#take shelter in from the icy winds whipping outside. and he just sits there and waits for the cold to take him
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how am i supposed to process the fact that lilia's UM lets him see the memories etched into physical objects and yet despite all the tons of stuff he has in his room the one thing he wanted to make sure he took with him was the bracelet silver made for him when he was little. how am i supposed to process that even though lilia's magic is gone and he can no longer peer into all the memories imbued into that bracelet he probably doesn't even need his UM to do so, because all those memories are already tucked away safely deep in his heart
#twst silver#lilia vanrouge#twst spoilers#twst#twst book 7#oh but imagine lilia fleeing to the highest mountains of the land and red dragons and he finds a nook or cranny to#take shelter in from the icy winds whipping outside. and he just sits there and waits for the cold to take him#and he cradles his baby's bracelet against his chest tracing his fingers across the rotted wood#trying and failing and trying again to use the last dying sparks of his magic to summon those old memories one more time#just one more time#but he can't
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Sit and Heal (JJK) (Teaser)
Pairing: Werewolf!Jeongguk x Witch!Reader
Summary: “You have scars, Y/n, both on your heart and on your skin. The one on your arm may be healed, but the one on your heart isn’t. Please. Let me lick your wounds,” Or: The wolf that visits you every afternoon is your shoulder to lean on as you realize it's time to learn to love and trust again, even if it’s hard.
Word Goal: 10k+
Approximate Release Date: Beginning-Mid May
Note: If you wanna be tagged when Sit and Heal comes out, just comment or message me :) Also, I was literally so anxious to post this, I’m so worried people will think it’s trash :)
“Go home. You have others waiting for you, don’t you?” You spoke, and the wolf turned back towards the forest, where the trees grew thicker and the brush became more unforgiving. Again, the wolf looked towards you for a second, before it ran into the thicket. Gone. Its presence seemingly no more than an apparition. You felt like you met a ghost.
“Goodbye...”
Meow
“No, Yume,”
Meow
“No, bub”
Meoooww
“Yume, it’s raining. We can’t go outside,” You scold the cat who is currently eyeing you while you prepare supper for the night. You caught a chicken the other day, so you were happily making some chicken soup. Or you were trying to, if it wasn’t for the black cat who was currently whining his heart out next to you. “You’ll get snatched up by that wolf if you go out there,” You playfully threatened.
Yume grumbled out an annoyed mew, already familiar with the wolf you met and had previously rambled to him about the exact day you met it. It’s been about 3 days since your first run-in with the chestnut-colored wolf, and everything's been relatively normal. You did your daily spell work, foraged until the days turned to night, checked your snares with hope in your heart.
And you never saw the wolf again.
But life goes on, and you’re hungry.
Meow... You sighed, dejected, tired of explaining to the cat that it’s cold, wet, and dark outside. Not the best weather for outside time. Meow. You put the spoon that you were stirring the soup with down, turning to the black furball with your hands on your hips. “Alright, out,” You groaned, shooing the cat away from the kitchen towards the living room. “It’s warm here, your favorite kind of temperature. Just lay down until dinner, okay? I’ll even put more wood on the fire,”
You did as you promised as Yume begrudgingly got on the couch, still boring his green eyes into the back of your head. You grabbed some wood from the stack that laid next to the brick fireplace and threw it in. You flicked your wrist causing sparks came flying out towards the wood. The flames revived energetically, painting the living room in a serene orange glow, illuminating both you and the black cat behind you.
You dusted off your hands, turning around to give Yume a kiss on the forehead. “Maybe tonight we can do a tarot reading for the two of us, yeah?” You bargained, earning a content meow from the cat. You chuckled, scratching behind the familiar’s ear before you went back to the kitchen.
The rain furiously beat against the windows of your small cottage; the wind howling as it whipped against the old wooden boards. The house creaked and groaned under the power of the storm, but you knew your protection charm wouldn’t allow anything to happen to the cottage. Luckily, there was no thunder booming or lighting running bright white cracks in the dark grey sky, it was just the rain and the wind.
You were humming the tune of a folk song you remember your mother singing as you chopped up some carrots and plopped them in the soup, unaware of the cat that was currently sneaking towards a window. Yume jumped up on the windowsill, expertly avoiding the terracotta pot filled with different herbs and flowers. The window was unlatched. An error on your part, but a perfect stroke of luck for Yume.
Yume bumped the window open, causing the shudders to catch in the wind and bang against the wall. You jumped, dropping the spoon into the pot, splashing the soup around the stove and onto you. You hissed at the feeling of hot soup on your cheekbone, but ultimately ignored it, turning off the stove and walking back out into the living room.
An icy chill met your skin as you entered the room, causing your skin to rise with goose bumps. You shivered. The fire was now a low ember and the curtains furiously whipped around in the harsh wind, rain seeping in and dripping onto the floor. You groaned, realizing that you probably forgot to latch it. “Just my luck,” You sighed as you closed and latched the window, turning to go tend to the fire again.
That’s when you stopped mid-step, swirling around to look at the couch, noticing a lack of a Yume. “Yume?” You called out into the quiet house. No answer. Yume was a cat. It wasn’t like he was going to say “Hello” back, but he would come if called. Nothing. “Yume!” You shouted, a bit more panicked. Again, no sign of the furball. Quickly, you rushed through the house, checking every room. You looked under your bed, behind the dresser, under blankets, everywhere. But there was no Yume.
Anxiety seeped into your veins like viscous tar, clogging up your lungs and throat. “Y-Yume...?” You choked out, your mind and heart running a mile a minute. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes. They burned as they ran down your cheeks. You sat down on the couch, covering your face with your hands as you tried to calm your breathing. With each inhale you choked, coughing with trembling lips.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. Yume probably went outside. He’s a smart cat, it’ll be okay,” You whispered to yourself in a shaky voice, taking in a few more gulps of air. You willed yourself up on trembling legs, stumbling over to the coat rack. “It’s okay,” You sighed out once more, throwing on your raincoat and boots, stepping outside into the ferocious storm.
Wind licked the wet trails of your tears as rain battered against your body. Trees bent over to the will of the storm, looking ready to snap, as their leaves rustled together producing an eerie symphony that made your hair rise. The sky was void of any light from the stars or the moon, covered in a thick layer of intimidating grey clouds. “Yume!” You called out into the night, desperate to see any sign of the lean cat. Nothing again.
You continued to call for Yume, walking deeper and deeper into the dense forest. It was getting darker the further you walked away from your cottage, making it hard to see the sharp stones and slick moss that covered the muddy forest ground. You reached into your pocket, fishing out the amulet that you always had on hand. It glowed. It didn’t give off light like a flame, but was enough to light your way.
The amulet let out a soft green hue as you continued to call for your cat, voice progressively getting more desperate. “Yume! Please!” You shout with a trembling voice, the biting cold and gripping fear threatening to push you down to your knees.
Meow!
You gasp, whipping around in a circle, trying to spot the source of the noise. You felt dizzy as you continued to turn, straining your eyes to peer through the thick trees and bushes. “Yume!” You yell again, continuing to turn in circles. “Yume! Please... Baby please,” You cry, bending to the will of your aching heart, falling to your knees. The wet, sloppy mud seeped through your pants. The rain splashing dirt on your face. But you couldn’t care less. “Yume...” You sniffled.
Meow
Yume called back, his call sounding just in front of you. You looked up, expecting to see just your little black cat with his green eyes and soft fur, but what was actually in front of you threw you into a living nightmare. You froze, your heart dropping as you hyperventilated, lungs burning from the cold. You couldn’t move. Your eyes locked onto the scene in front of you, like a cruel form of torture.
There, Yume was hanging by his scruff, in the mouth of a giant wolf.
“Yume!” You shrieked, finding your voice again. You reached out for the black cat, shying away when you registered that a wolf was right there. “Nonono, Yume, please...” You lamented, covering your mouth as sobs threatened to bubble their way out of your throat.
But instead of the wolf dropping a dead carcass at your feet, it gently let Yume down, allowing the cat to run over to you and lick at your tears. You sniffled, reaching out a shaky hand to pull Yume towards you. You buried your face in Yume’s fur, letting out the sobs you were desperately holding in.
Yume let you hold him in the chilling rain, licking your face to comfort you. “You’re okay... You’re okay,” You choked out, hiccuping on air. Mew... Yume spoke up, nudging his sopping wet head against your cheek, as if saying, “It’s okay. We’re okay” Even if in your brain you knew everything should be fine now, that you should stop crying and get back home, you couldn’t move. Your tired heart chained you in place like a rock sunk to the bottom of the ocean.
It felt as if all the strength you were fiercely clinging onto while you wandered though the forest had slipped between your fingers like sand. You wanted to lay there in the mud and stay there until morning, but you knew you had to get yourself together. Yume was shivering, you were shivering, and it was dark. Yet you couldn’t move. You sheltered Yume inside your coat as you tried to pick up the scattered pieces of yourself, .
Whine...
You lifted your head from where you buried it in the wet cat's fur, catching the eye of the wolf you’d forgotten all about. It looked at you with drooping ears and a bent head, like a scolded puppy. It whined again, lifting one of its paws like it was going to step forward, but opting not to, hesitating. “You found him,” You whispered out, voice scratchy from the sobs that had wracked through your throat.
The wolf tilted his head in confusion. You would’ve too. Why are you talking to this animal like their Yume? Yume was special in a witchy way. He was your familiar. Like a loyal companion, but sassier. Yume was in tune with your emotions 9 times out of 10. Yume played around with you when you were happy, snuggled you when you were tired, and comforted you through times of panic and sadness. Yume understood you because he was made for you.
A wild wolf wasn’t
Yet, that didn’t deter you as you continued to speak. “Thank you...” You sniffled. You took a closer look at the wolf, looking it up and down. The same golden chestnut fur, now soaked and illuminated in a hue of green from the amulet that currently laid in the mud. Despite the lack of light, its yellow eyes seemed to glow. “Ah, you’re that wolf that was stuck in my snare...” You said, and the wolf took your friendly tone as an invitation to get closer.
Slowly, it approached you, ears and head still down to look less intimidating. You were too emotionally exhausted to be scared again. That, or you subconsciously trusted the wolf more than you thought. “You must be cold,” You commented, staring at the wolf saturated coat. The wolf nudged at your own soaked coat, as if saying, “You too,” and you softly chuckled. It nudged you again, this time on your side, trying to get you to stand up. You didn’t. You couldn’t find the energy too, but the wolf kept nudging.
You gradually stood on trembling legs out of annoyance, tiring of the wolf’s persistence. You held Yume in your arms, still under your coat, as the wolf tugged at your dirty pant-leg. You took a step forward, and the wolf went on ahead until it realized you weren’t beside it. It jogged back, pulling on your pant-leg again. “You’re a weird one,” You mumbled out with a small smile, indulging the wolf by following it.
The wolf led you through the rain and mud. Looking back occasionally to check if you were still there. You didn’t know where it was leading you, but the trees thinned out, meaning you were moving away from the thick parts of the forest that are easy to get lost in. The storm continued to beat down on the three of you, creating a thin veil-like fog that hindered your ability to see.
But the wolf seemed unfazed as it continued to walk without fault, walking until an orange glow pierced through the fog. Your eyes widened when you realized it was your cottage. The wolf had led you back to your cottage. “Wha? How did you...?” You breathed out, looking down at the wolf who was now looking at you.
The wolf was definitely odd. It seemed more aware than the average lupus, like it could hear and understand you. Like it knew what you needed. Strange, no doubt, but you were a witch, you experienced strange things all the time. Hell, the entire forest you lived in was renowned for being supernatural and “dangerous” as in, magical.
Birds often brought you pretty stones and flowers, the squirrels liked to share their food with you, and the plant life seemed to come alive around you. Nothing in your life was “normal”, it was all strange. The wolf was probably like the birds and squirrels. A forest helper of sorts.
So with that rationalization, you left it be.
You walked up to your porch, opening the front door and letting a wet Yume free in the house. You turned around, locking eyes with the wolf once again. It was a few yards away, sitting in your front garden, looking even more humongous next to your tiny daisies and tulips. It was waiting for you to go inside. “It’s cold...” You said, “And your wet...” The wolf tilted its head once again, unmoving. “I have towels... And a warm place to sleep until the morning,”
The wolf stayed seated.
“Come on,” You coaxed, patting your leg as an invitation for the wolf to move closer.
Slowly, the wolf stood up, trotting up to you and cautiously stepping into the house.
“It’s okay, they can’t hurt you anymore,”
“Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean the scars don’t burn,”
Out Now!
#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jeongguk#jeon jeongguk#bts jungkook#bts#bts fic#bts werewolf au#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jeongguk x reader#jeon jeongguk x reader#bts fluff
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Thank You For Your Service IV (M)
Thank you @7stars-aligned13 for the beautiful mood board!!
Pairing: Jimin x Reader
Genre: smut, angst, fluff
Warnings: mentions of trouble conceiving, lots of time skips, squirting, face fucking, dom!Jimin, slight role play, impreg kink, dirty talk, fingering, cream pie
Word Count: 24,500
Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4
You hiccup, already crying fat tears before you’ve even heard the news. You fear those words, feel the emptiness, and it hurts your soul. The straight faced doctor takes her time coming into your room, letting out a sigh once she sees your face. It’s from exasperation, but you would like to interpret it as sympathy. She stands at the foot of your bed, waiting until you calm your breathing enough to hear her.
“As I am sure you have guessed, you are not with child.” Those words break your heart for the sixth time and you break down into sobs, hiding your face in Jimin’s pillows.
Six months. It has been six long months since you were wed and you still are not pregnant. Even after all those late nights, early mornings when you’d send the servants away before your schedules began, the remedies and special foods, the slightly uncomfortable positions and pillow mountains, you still are not yet carrying your husband’s child. And it crushes you.
Yes, you know having children is not all you are good for, but it is one of your duties as a Queen. Having heirs is something that only you can do and the entire kingdom awaits expectantly for the news of an incoming prince or princess that they can idolize and adore, so you feel the pressure at all times of day— as well as guilt in regards to your barren womb. You should be fertile at this youthful time in your life. Both you and Jimin have passed every physical examination and remain in excellent health, which is why it is so perplexing to you that you are having trouble conceiving. Rosé, Queen of the kingdom just north of yours, is already pregnant and she was wed to her husband an entire month after you. Twins, you hear she’s having. You’d hate to fall behind her kingdom in any aspect, even in such a trivial competition as having children. She has nothing to do with your family, and yet, you still feel so inferior because you do not yet have one.
“To put it bluntly,” Your doctor begins, looking down at the paper she’s holding, scribbled with notes. “I believe the cause of your current condition— or lack thereof— is due to the poisoning you endured several months ago. It is possible that the potion affected your reproductive organs in some imperceptible way; your kidneys exhibited symptoms of its effects for nearly a month after your recovery, so we cannot completely rule out this possibility. But, Your Highness, the only way I would be able to test this hypothesis is through surgery to visually inspect your organs.”
You shudder at the thought of being cut open, shaking your head animatedly. Maybe you would consider this “inspection” after a year of effort and failure, but you would not take such drastic measures this early. No matter how much the constant failure hurt.
“If my infertility is due to the poison-“ You swallow thickly when your voice comes out as a mere whimper.
“Let us not be so hasty in calling it infertility, Your Majesty.” She interrupts, stare lightening just slightly. She’s learned the tiniest bit of respect since working under Jimin, his low tolerance for rudeness and spiny disposition during medical examinations slowly beginning to unnerve her cold discourse. Many a time has he reprimanded her for speaking to you informally or for her lack of sympathy, and you are finally starting to see a change, though she still interrupts you to interject.
“If my current inability to conceive is because of the poison,” You try again, “Are there any elixirs or pills I could take to lessen its effects? There must be something!”
“Because we do not know entirely if this is due to the poison, I am hesitant to give you treatment— sometimes getting pregnant is difficult for some people and there is nothing medically wrong with them. For now I can only give you advice on conception: try to lower your stress levels, eat more fruits and vegetables for vitamins, and do not over exert yourself. That is all for today, I will be back in a month for your regular check up unless I am needed sooner.” With that she turns and leaves, not waiting to be dismissed and leaving you alone in your room.
It is the middle of winter and the bone-chilling winds whip against your windows. The palace is heated by fire, but you refuse to light your fireplace, choosing to sit and suffer in the cold alone as you wallow in your gloom. Jimin has been busy all day with kingdom affairs, out and about performing duties that not even your father cared enough to get done. The people love him, love how involved he is and how much he cares, and they never hesitate to alert him to any problems they might have that Jimin could take care of. Of course he doesn’t mind, you knew he would never be able to stay inside these sheltered walls for long when he was so used to the excitement of training and battle, but you wished he would spare a little time to cater to your issues. His absence during your monthly checkups is not unusual. For the first three he held your hand and sat with you, on the fourth he left in the middle due to an urgent matter, and these last two he has been out of the castle altogether. Since your third appointment, when your hopes of being pregnant were at its highest, he seemed to have a very negative attitude toward your checkups. He told you he did not intentionally avoid these meetings, and you think that is partly true, but you know that he must hate the constant rejection and is deliberately making himself unavailable when he thinks you will be rejected again. He would much rather hear the bad news from you instead of your cold doctor.
When you asked your father to accompany you, he sort of grimaced and then politely declined. You understand, the thought of addressing the fact that your daughter has not only been deflowered, but is being repeatedly taken in the efforts of bearing fruit is sickening to you, too. Also, he is not very adept at comforting you when you break down like this, face buried in your husband’s pillows and shoulders shaking with sobs.
Telling by the ache in your skull and the completely soaked through cushion beneath your head, a long time has passed by the time you finally raise your face at the sound of Jimin shuffling into your bedroom. He shivers once the door is closed again, expecting warmth but being met with bitterness.
“It is freezing in here.” He rasps beneath his breath, ignoring you momentarily to light the fireplace, moving to shed the outer layers of his clothing once the fire is of decent size. The single glance he took at you upon entering is all he needed to know what has transpired, and he is in no rush to hear the devastating words. It’s only until he is in comfortable attire that he turns to face you, easing your head onto his chest with a curled bottom lip before he’s even settled properly on the mattress. “My love...”
Your tears flow freely onto his chest and he says nothing, sighing into your hair because by now this has become a common occurrence.
“She said it might be,” You snivel, “because of the poison.” He closes his eyes, having suspected the same thing but praying that it was not true. He wondered if the poison would have any long lasting effects on you, or on your future offspring, but dismissed the thought immediately. Although he knows nothing of what the doctor has said, he feels discouraged nonetheless. His past failure to protect you continues to circle around his head like a vulture, tormenting him to no end and making its appearance to pick at his wounds whenever he starts to move on from it. Six months feels like a long time, but it is apparent that his emotional scars need far longer to fully heal. And for that he owes to Jinwoo.
“I am s-sorry for being s-so weak.” You wipe your nose, face red and puffy from both tears and embarrassment. “Half a year ago you had not yet seen me shed tears, and now...” Almost as if the word itself had summoned them, fresh droplets fall from your eyes, looking pitifully up at the man who had stolen your heart. Only, he must have given it back to you at some point because you feel too much these days and you are tired of hurting like this. God, you probably look so ugly right now, you can feel how swollen and red your eyes and cheeks are, your self confidence plummeting to an all-time low.
“You are beautiful and strong, (Y/n), do not ever think less of yourself. You have good reason to feel the way you do, please do not think that you have to be stoic in front of me.” Like always, Jimin says exactly the right thing to ease your mind, using his hand to wipe your wet face and burrowing into the sheets with you attached to his side, his heat warming the icy sheets that drowned you when you had been alone.
You retired to bed early last night, which is why you can afford to wake up with the sun this morning. Jimin sleeps soundly behind you, but his presence is felt stiffly on your ass between the thin layers of clothing. Snow twinkles on your windowsill, probably the last snow of the season, but you find the sun beaming as brightly as ever to illuminate the room. With the weather beginning to warm in preparation for spring, you’ve grown accustomed to the gentle sound of melting snow dripping outside your window. Mornings like these are scarce and you plan to make the most of it.
You attempt to turn and face your beloved, but his arms tighten around your waist, locking you in your position. A sleepy groan tickles your ear, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver through you.
“You’re up early.” Jimin mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. His voice is always so deep and raspy in the mornings, his dialect coming forth with a yawn. You could listen to him speak like that forever, but all you can think about at the moment is how good his moans would sound with the added rumble of bass that comes from sleep.
“So are you.” You snort with a sly wiggle of your hips. The twitch of his length against you sends a flash of exhilaration through your system— time has been short lately and it has been far too long since you’ve last felt him. Apparently he feels the same way, his hand effortlessly gliding up your rib cage to palm at your clothed breast with a deep sigh. You can tell his eyes are still closed due to the laziness of his movements, but it doesn’t matter when his tender touches set your body on fire like this.
His lips find their way to your neck as he shifts closer, kissing and sucking gently enough not to leave marks but to get your heart racing with need. “Take this off.” You follow his instructions and promptly shed the nightgown from your body, leaving you nude against him as he presses himself to you once again, this time slipping a hand between your legs. Your nipples harden from the brief chill of the room before you adjust the covers over your shoulder again, and Jimin takes advantage of this with two fingers, twisting the bud between them to send a spike of pleasure down your spine.
You muffle a groan once his fingers begin to tease at your lower lips, spreading them and toying with the outer skin just to build your anticipation. He wants you to drip before he’s even touched you properly, to whimper into the sheets until you can’t take it anymore and call out his name in frustration. Your clit gets pinched between his fingers when he squeezes them closed, trapping the bud as he continues to rub you up and down, and you find yourself panting in a matter of seconds. Soon, his fingers start to get coated in the essence that seeps from you. It’s so sexy that he can barely stand it. Jimin loves to feel your warm juices trickling out of you, working you up almost feels better than tending to himself, and his breathing hitches too when you begin to wiggle in his grasp.
“Look at my gorgeous Queen, getting soaking wet from just a few light touches. So cock hungry this early in the morning.” His words make you quiver and whine, the teasing quality of his voice right up against the shell of your ear driving you absolutely insane. “I’ll give you what you want if you tell me~” You hadn’t expected him to be so playful after just waking up, but it’s a pleasant surprise.
“I want you to make me cum,” You breathe out between pants. “Then I want you to pump me full of your seed. Please, My King.” Your words have their own special effect on him, evident by the lustful groan he releases into your hair and how his hips subtly shift behind you. Immediately, his fingers move to your clit to lightly graze over the hood until you buck into him, only then does he add pressure. Your back arches into his palm as he continues to play with your nipple, having turned his attention to the other in order to provide the same treatment, pulling and tweaking at it, working the nerves until they’re raw and sensitive enough to have you gasping with every flick.
Jimin doesn’t need to be able to see you in your entirety to know how you look right now. You’re completely helpless to his touch, he can feel you writhing against him and heating up the space between the sheets as your temperature rises. He can feel your heart beating hard against your chest— and he wonders if you can feel his from his position pressed against your back. It has been a while since he’s allowed himself to indulge in these fantasies. He’s pleased to know that he still has every inch of you committed to memory and is able to so easily have you at his fingertips, quite literally. These past months, your focus has been solely on procreating in the bedroom and rarely for the fun of it, so this is refreshing. But he still asks anyway.
“You want me to spill my seed into you, hm? Are you fertile right now?” His words slip past your ears as you lose yourself to the circles he draws into your bud, but somehow you manage to catch them at the last second.
“It does not matter, I want you anyway.” The answer is no, you aren’t at your most fertile at the moment, but this isn’t about that. Regardless of if anything will come of it or not, you want to feel Jimin paint your walls white with his love, something you think you’ve become addicted to. You bask in the feeling of having him throb and twitch and lose control while at the mercy of your tight walls, even when he’s pounding your weak frame into whatever surface he’s decided to take you on, and the thought has you galloping toward your peak faster than expected.
His leg slips between yours to prop them open, two of his fingers dancing their way into your clenching entrance, the intrusion pulling a loud moan from your lips. They glide and twirl within you much to your delight, but before you can enjoy it fully, they pop out and slither back up to your clit with a thick coating of your own slick. It doesn’t bother you, you could cum like this easily, but what really makes you gape is the feeling of Jimin’s hard member grinding against your ass. You can feel that his briefs are now damp with a mixture of precum and your wetness as you continue to drip down your thighs and make a mess of yourself, and you can’t help but rock your hips into his motion. You grind into each other with sensual synchronization and soon he’s panting along with you, the swollen head of his cock peeking out from his briefs to wet your cheek, teasing you endlessly.
“Jimin,” You whine, praying that he’ll let you cum quickly this morning despite his teasing mood. Every buck into his fingers shoots jolts of pleasure through you and every press against his hot cock has you throbbing at your emptiness. It’s a never-ending loop that has both of you moaning in no time, and it isn’t long before the coil in your stomach tightens to its peak. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” You whisper quietly, your breath being stolen away by the feeling of your orgasm. Your husband groans behind you, forcing his own hips to jerk to a stop as you roll against him to ride out the waves. He can feel you pulsing against his fingers and suddenly craves to feel you around his member, removing his hand from between your legs to push away his bottoms.
“Are you ready for me, darling?” He whispers with soft kisses to your shoulder as you begin to relax again. His tip glides effortlessly against your drenched lips and the fire inside you reignites instantly.
“I am always ready for you, my love.” Turning your head, you find his lips and savor the passionate kiss you share, a warmth blooming in your chest that saves you from the cold of the bedroom. Ever so slowly he pushes inside you, bringing a hand up to hold your face to his as his tongue slips between your lips. Vibrations mingle throughout your bodies as you both moan, the insertion tight as he stretches you open in the early morning light, his morning wood always so sensitive especially with your recent bout of abstinence. On the first thrust his fingers intertwine with yours, and this is the most intimate moment you’ve had with him in a long while. It feels like ages have passed since you’ve indulged each other in slow sex and you are starting to realize just how much you’ve craved it. “I missed you.” You mumble against his lips, barely wanting to pull away to look at him.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Jimin smiles, his eyes still closed but hand still caressing your face. He uses it to skim down your figure, hooking under your leg to lift it over his own and allow him deeper into your cavern, angling himself until you squeeze his hand with a shaky moan.
He honestly thinks he could stay like this forever: wrapped up in your warmth, surrounded by blankets, giving you all the love and pleasure he can provide. Things have been so hectic these last few months, an odd tension growing between you two that he can always feel but can’t quite put his finger on, but in these calm moments before the chaos of the day, he feels completely safe and at ease. Being King is no easy task, this he expected, but this is the only time he gets to shed the expectations, the pretenses, the pressure and just be your lover. Just like at the beginning of your relationship— and how things were 8 months ago, when the Crown was first placed in his hands.
You feel almost like a rag doll in his arms as he snaps his hips into you, allowing him to take you and guide you to bliss. Your hips rock back into him subtly, inner muscles squeezing around his shaft and gripping onto him, begging him to stay buried inside to occupy your lonely walls and empty womb. Pressure builds in your lower abdomen again, accompanied by a flush that takes over your body and warms you uncomfortably under the sheets. Jimin tosses the coverings aside when it gets too much, sweat slicking where your bodies connect. Your nails dig into the flesh of his ass when you reach a hand back to rest on the muscle, groaning at how you can feel every movement whenever his hips surge forward, his strength jolting you with his slow, powerful strokes. His length curves perfectly inside you, touching all your favorite spots and it becomes increasingly apparent that you won’t last long like this. He encourages you with gentle sweet nothings tickled against your ear.
“My lovely wife, always so good to me.” Jimin nuzzles his face in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as his hand returns to your breast. “Always so soft and wet around my cock, darling. Are you getting close again, my love?” You whimper loudly and nod, not trusting your voice entirely when you’re feeling so breathless. “You sound so sweet moaning for me like that. Shall we let the entire castle know what a splendid morning we’re having together? Let them hear how well your King takes care of you.”
“Jimin~” You croon as he picks up pace, hips slapping against your backside and filling the air alongside your heavy breathing. Removing his bottom hand from yours, he props himself up on his elbow to look down over you, opening his legs wider to gain as much leverage as possible to fuck into you. The speed and power he achieves like this has you crying out into the open air, uncaring of who hears how wrecked you sound. You’re certain that the guards keeping watch at your door are uncomfortable by the display of lust, but who are they to judge when Jimin touches just the right places within you to have your body coming apart at the seams?
“Cum for me, my love,” Your husband’s voice feels distant as your thoughts float away. You are not aware enough to marvel at the sheer strength and endurance of his hips, his pace not faltering even once. Crumpling the sheets beneath you, you turn your face into the pillow as your body starts to quiver, a warm hand gripping onto your hip to keep you in place against the onslaught of pleasure. “There you go, milk me of my seed.”
Just the simple thought he plants in your mind’s eye is enough to send you into heaven, your walls clamping down around him with a scream of bliss, just as he requested. Feeling him so deeply makes your eyes roll, every stroke kissing the entrance of your womb and you pray he gives you every last drop he has. With only a few more pushes of his hips, you feel his body tense behind you and shiver, an overwhelmingly sexy groan breathed right into your ear.
It takes several moments of gentle thrusting before he’s satisfied, your body sufficiently full of his sperm and skin tingling with the aftermath of a beautiful orgasm you happily shared. Jimin kisses his way down from the side of your cheeks and neck to your shoulder and arm, ignoring the thin layer of perspiration that dries quickly in the brisk morning air. Though soft, he remains inside of you as he settles himself back against the mattress and holds your body to his, lifting the sheets to cover you before the chill returns. You feel safe. Completely and utterly safe and comfortable in your lover’s arms as you drift back to sleep.
But the peace is short lived because just as you begin to dream again, you feel Jimin pull out of you and shift away, attempting to be as stealthy as possible as he slips from bed. He winces when you turn to your other side to face him, sleepy eyes watching as he pulls on his underwear again. You are unable to return the sweet smile he offers you, already missing the way his skin felt against yours.
“Will you not stay to cuddle me?” You ask quietly, unable to understand why he must leave so soon. The smile on his face turns sad, eyes flickering to the door as several consecutive knocks sing on the wood.
“I have many duties to fulfill today, my love.”
‘And no time for me...’ You think with a poorly concealed frown, burrowing deeper into the bedspread when he opens the door for your servants, who get to work on preparing him for the day immediately. Deep down you know you likely will not interact with him until nightfall as he scrambles around the castle and kingdom serving his duties, but you try not to feel the distasteful irritation in your chest and send him off with a kiss when he makes his exit. Sometimes, though, you cannot help but think he was more eager to be with you when he was merely a soldier.
Jimin sits at a round table meeting with his advisors to discuss the affairs of the kingdom, in which there is not much to report. This is a mandatory meeting they must have weekly and they rarely last long. Most of the time, the conversations divulge into unrelated, off topic subjects just to pass the time, and Jimin has no problem with this on most days. He has a good relationship with his advisors and there is almost never any need for him to use his status as King during their discussions. Today, however, his fuse is a little short. It may be because of the all too frequent restless nights he has been experiencing, or from the lack of quality time he has spent with you, but he is far more irritable than usual. All he can think about is how disappointed you looked when he left and how much he’d rather be cuddled up back in bed with you instead of sitting in front of this counsel.
“Do not worry, the Queen has already taken care of it.” Someone says, he does not know who said it because he is barely paying attention.
“Pardon my coarseness, Your Highness, but it is my understanding that Her Majesty has not yet conceived.” The man presents this in a questioning manner, but Jimin can hear the underlying condescension.
“You are correct.” He replies in a low voice.
“It has been 9 months since your matrimony. She should bear your heirs with haste.” The room swells with voices as his advisors begin to talk about you, each taking their turn to put in their opinions and criticism. He can hardly believe what he is hearing. They speak as though it is your fault that you are not pregnant, as if you are being defiant by not bearing him children, like it is a choice that you have made consciously. Anger bubbles in his chest, blood boiling as they continue ranting about you right in front of him as though they were not saying terrible things about his wife. He stands abruptly upon hearing someone tell a story about how his wife refused to birth him any more children because he “was acting like one” himself. Jimin interrupts just as the man is about to make a comment about stubborn wives, his voice billowing from his throat like heavy plumes of smoke that quickly engulf the room.
“How dare you speak of my wife— your Queen— in such a disrespectful manner! Do you accuse her of treachery against me? Against this nation? You have the gall to insult her efforts on something she cannot control, to doubt her intentions and loyalty to this kingdom and her own family? I should have you all removed from this castle permanently for suggesting such a thing, what do you have to say about that?!” He looks around the silent room at each of their faces, all of them looking utterly shocked by his outburst. Jimin has never needed to assert his authority over them like this, but they have gone too far today. Though he is the youngest in the room, he is easily the most intimidating when angry, regardless of if he were the King or not. Drawing in a deep breath, he tries to calm himself, running a hand through his hair as he takes his seat once more. “It is my fault anyway, not hers. It is my duty as well.”
It is quiet for a long while, the men around the table hesitate to speak again until one man builds up the courage to break the stillness.
“Do not despair, Your Highness, you are both still young, there is plenty of time to have children.” He reassures, followed by similar comforting phrases from the others. Jimin does not respond as he stares out of the window, a solemn look overtaking his face in place of the relaxed and neutral expression he normally wears. He wonders if you face this criticism regularly wherever you go, if people who are supposed to be your supporters are slowly losing hope in you. You already beat yourself up about not being pregnant, he fears what would happen if those thoughts were validated by others. Something must be done about this immediately.
It is silent for another long pause. “You are all dismissed.” He says with a flick of his hand.
*** *** ***
Your servants follow you around quite stubbornly, attempting (and failing) to be as unnoticeable as possible, but their presence is the only thing you can focus on. If you sigh too heavily they all come scurrying over, asking what was the matter, offering to take care of whatever task you had set out to complete. Yes, it was your mother’s dying wish for you to accept your loyal attendants, and it was your father’s order for them to look after you, but you cannot help but feel that this treatment is a bit excessive. It is almost laughable when you reflect on it: how just a year prior you were known largely for your independence, and now you could hardly find a moment to yourself. The only times you can get away with having minimal supervision is when you go out into town, where you may request only one or two guards or servants to accompany you.
Since becoming the official Queen of this nation, you have taken it upon yourself to care for the nuances of your society, to help individuals and keep a close relationship with the people. Jimin was focused on many of the larger issues that affected groups of citizens, like rebuilding one of the marketplaces that suffered damages in a fire last week, as well as handling international business with neighboring kingdoms. Naturally, everyone took a great liking to him and his policies and the people offered him immense support, but your job as Queen was to support the people. So, every week you go into town and buy a book from a novice writer, read it, then publish an unofficial review for the stories you enjoy. Not only does this boost the writer’s credibility, popularity, and sales, it also allows you to communicate with your people. Your presence in town never goes unnoticed, and often times people give you great recommendations on stories you should interest yourself with. It is the highlight of your week since all you can do is read in the quiet moments within the castle.
It is now early spring, trees budding with sweet smelling blossoms and the beginnings of greenery, displaying their proud potency in brilliant hues that bleach you into the gray of a dead willow. Still, your spirits are beginning to lift the farther you distance yourself from the castle. Walking through town, you breathe in all of the scents around you. Street vendors sell an array of foods that you do not see within the castle often and your mouth waters as you step up to one, picking out a pastry covered in sugar, something that you can easily pull apart with your fingers without the need of utensils. Before you can lift it to your mouth, the guard beside you stops you, plucking a small piece for himself to taste for poison. As a royal, you always thought this job was unnecessary and ridiculous before, but after the catastrophe at your wedding, you now understand it’s significance. That does not stop you from pouting, however, as you are forced to wait at least 5 minutes before the stiff guard allows you to dig into your snack.
You continue through the market, admiring crafts from artisans with masterful handiwork and struggle to keep your hand out of your purse whenever something catches your eye. This market is not the closest to the palace, in fact, it is quite far from it, but you have found that the most valuable work comes from the honest workers that live in smaller homes and lead honest lives, not from the traders and merchants who buy their goods from others and claim them as their own in the wealthy districts. The people who live on the outskirts work harder, and they are the ones you need to support the most.
“This would look beautiful hanging from the palace walls, don’t you think?” You turn toward Lilian as she browses the collection of jewelry that sits beside the tapestry you are holding, her eyes inspecting it briefly.
“I think it would look lovely in one of the sitting rooms.” She grins. Lilian always accompanies you on these types of trips. You value her opinion and reason and sympathize with her lack of outside interaction. Both of you are in the palace at almost all times and you are sure you both would go crazy if not for these couple hours outside those claustrophobic walls.
“I think so, too!” You agree, turning to the guard who continues to survey the area. “What do you think, Kyungsoo?”
He looks at it for a while, then at the others around it, finally bringing his eyes back to yours. “Whatever you desire, Your Majesty. My opinion is insignificant.” His answer causes your face to fall, rolling your eyes at him because he always says that. This is another reason why you bring Lilian along.
Sauntering into your favorite bookstore, you cheerfully greet the clerk and begin browsing for newly released books. Not long after, two women approach you, one of which you recognize to be the bookkeeper’s daughter and a new friend of yours. She always comes to talk to you about the store’s newest additions, and it gives others around her the confidence to speak to you as well. Today she is with a slightly older woman who she introduces as a rising author.
“I believe I have read one of your books before; remind me, which ones have you written?” You prompt, making the woman blush and brighten.
“Snowflower is my most popular work. It is all thanks to your review that I was finally able to get noticed in the writing community!” She beams, sparking conversation with you and Lilian about the book that the two of you enjoyed so much. It must be more than 15 minutes later that you finally decide on what to purchase, you have been listening closely to all that the ladies have to say about each author and the summaries of each story. There were multiple that piqued your interest and you could not decide so you ended up with 3 books in hand as your friend walked you to the register. One of them happens to be a story following the trials and struggles of a mother who becomes pregnant during a war. Of course you hadn’t picked this book for its theme of motherhood. It promised to be a good read— though you had overlooked it many times before today— and you certainly did not choose it because it was the closest thing to a lesson on pregnancy you could get without purchasing the entire series of “Preparing for Parenthood”, perched on a shelf that you found yourself eying the majority of your stay in the store.
Your friend talks mindlessly as she rings you up for your books, inspecting your odd selection. “So tell me, Your Majesty, are you with ch- ow!” The woman beside her pinches her arm just out of your sight, offering up a tight lipped smile when she turns to pout at her. A short flash of realization crosses her face before she returns her attention to you.
“Am I with whom?” You ask, confused.
“Are you with t-the children! Have you- have you come to see the preschoolers perform today?” She covers quickly with a nervous smile. Lilian glares at her when you are facing the other way.
“Oh! I recall hearing that they will be performing a play today, I nearly forgot!” The people around you sigh in relief at your obliviousness, resuming conversation as though nothing had happened. They give you instructions to the school and you rush there, Lilian carrying your books and Kyungsoo leading the way.
When you arrive, there are only parents and family members filling the auditorium, signifying that the play has not yet started. They chat amongst themselves in a rumble of murmurs, but the noise quiets quickly once you are noticed by a teacher that stands near the stage area.
“Her Majesty!” She gasps. “Welcome, welcome!” She practically runs to you, approaching clumsily while Kyungsoo moves to shield you with his body, stopping the woman before she can get too close. You gently move him aside to allow the woman to see and speak directly to you. “I had no idea that the Queen would be visiting today! To what do I owe you the pleasure?”
“I have come to see the children perform. It is imperative of me as Queen to support our kingdom’s youth.” You smile, noticing a weird look that crosses her face for a moment before smoothing out. Lilian has a tight smile spread across her lips just out of your peripheral.
“Of course! Well, you are just in time, the show is about to begin.” She tries to clear the front row of parents for you, but you insist that the parents of the children should get the best seats, settling for the chairs she pulls up for you at the sides of the small theater.
The moment the toddlers waddle onto stage in their costumes, your heart liquifies. They are the cutest things you have ever seen. Some of them look confused, some are pouting, but most of them are excitedly waving at their parents in the crowd, nearly tripping over each other from not looking at what’s happening in front of them. Even more heartwarming is the reactions of the parents, each and every one of them sitting up straighter and beaming with joy at the sight of their offspring, even the parents who had previously looked bored. Your attention is split between what is happening onstage and in the crowd throughout the entire play, watching the silent interactions between child and parent. You could always tell which tot belonged to which parent because of their reactions. Every child had their own lines, and whenever one stepped up to speak, the parents would lean in closer to the stage or straighten up to send a thumbs up to the wide eyes that stare back at them.
At some point, you had begun to imagine what it would be like if your own child were up there. You scan the faces of the toddlers, determining that a shy little girl bears the closest resemblance to your future baby, and you watch her the entire rest of the play. Her finger reaches into her nose several times during the performance, something your toddler would be forced to learn not to do, and she appears to be quite hesitant to say her lines. You and Jimin would act just as her parents are now, waving at her and mouthing words of encouragement when it seems like she will not speak at all, smiling proudly after she executes her parts flawlessly. Jimin would probably hold your hand as you watch her and you would be able to feel the sweat on his palms from how much he would worry for her, whispering to you how he hopes she will not cry because of how shy and quiet she tends to be. And you would whisper back that your baby is talented and will do great because she is very mature for her age, being a Princess and all.
Your eyes do not leave the girl for a minute and you are so caught up in your fantasy that you almost miss when everyone stands to clap at the end of the show. You rise slowly and offer your applause, cheeks hurting from smiling too much, but you cannot ignore the bittersweet feeling in your chest that comes when all of the children disperse and run into the arms of their waiting parents. And you are forced to remember your situation. The teacher begs you to make closing remarks and you take your place on the empty stage to address your people. Unable to focus properly, you barely know what you are saying; you thank the students and teachers for a great show, repeat a total of 4 times how adorable the children were, speak at length about how much you enjoyed everything, and once you notice that you’re rambling, you conclude quickly and move from the spotlight awkwardly. The families don’t seem to notice as they return their attention to gushing over their babies.
Just as you are about to make your exit, someone runs up to you and stops at your feet, her hair barely reaching the bottoms of your knees as she looks up at you. It is the girl you had been watching, and her arms reach up to be held once you make eye contact with her. At the approval of her parents, you lift her light body and rest her on your hip, the position comfortable and natural despite you having held a child only a few times in your life. You congratulate her and she smiles at you, turning to look at her parents as you try not to marvel at how perfectly innocent and sweet her face is.
“Your Majesty,” Her mother greets with a bow. “I was very surprised to see you here today. I had heard that you often come to these parts of town, but I would have never expected you to grace us with your presence on an occasion like this.” She is very polite, noting how the little girl has taken a liking to you already.
“I believe it is important to keep in touch with my people, and what better way is there to connect with you all than to attend a performance of my kingdom’s children?” You grin.
“I heard rumors that lately you had been feeling quite under the weather.” At this you quirk an eyebrow. She continues. “Many had assumed you were pregnant, so word spread that the King would not allow you out of the palace and that is why you had been absent for the past few weeks.” As if Jimin could tell you what to do. Yes, it is true that you had not gone outside of the palace in about 3 weeks, but that was of your own accord.
Jimin’s mother had taken a short vacation to your home upon your request after you detailed to her your troubles with conceiving in a lengthy letter, and she spent those three weeks improving your physical health with things like yoga and kegal exercises, as well as offering you very blunt and personal advice that you were almost too embarrassed to put into practice. Jimin warned you of how she was unafraid to talk about intimate topics, recalling a specific conversation she had with him in his teenage years, but you were still unprepared for the sheer amount of information she gave you during that time. You simply did not have time to go on your weekly shopping trips.
“That is... not the case.” You reply, adjusting the girl on your hip.
“Oh, then you are not pregnant?” The woman seems surprised and Lilian seems almost outraged, cutting in when you open and close your mouth with no other response.
“We have not been to this part of your town yet, are there any places you suggest we visit?” Lilian’s voice sounds through her teeth, swiftly changing the subject. You didn’t think you would have trouble talking about this, but here you stand, blinking away tears at her question. The girl’s mother seems to realize her mistake when she takes in your watery eyes that you try to hide with a fake smile. You let Lilian continue her conversation as you wander away a few steps, pretending to inspect your surroundings as you gather yourself, until a nearby newspaper catches your eye. On the cover are the words “KING’S NEW ORDERS! PROTECT THE QUEEN” and your heart jumps at the suddenness. You bend carefully to turn the page and read the article, a mix of emotions rushing through your body that almost makes you lose grip on the child in your arms when you understand their significance. You quickly return her to her parents, excusing yourself from them on the pretense that you had to be back at the palace for important business, and you instruct Kyungsoo to guide you back to the carriage to head home.
Upon entering your bedroom, Jimin finds a note on the bed in your writing, reading it with curiosity. It leads him to a familiar place and he hurries there with mild concern, mind rushing with thoughts of what your note could have meant.
Curled up in your favorite chair, he finds you reclining with a new book in hand as you look through the window of your Secret Library. Your servants know nothing of this place, you and Jimin have made certain that it’s location remains hidden, so this is the only place you can truly be alone. To his knowledge, you only come here when something is troubling you or when you need to think, and his mind jumps to all of the worst case scenarios of what could have happened.
“My love, you wished to speak with me?” He asks, approaching urgently as according to your urgent letter. But you remain relaxed and unresponsive as you continue to flip through the pages of your novel. He looks down to inspect your choice reading, taking note that it speaks of a woman who, in this current scene, is just learning that she is pregnant. You take your time reading it, only turning to him after the chapter is finished. When you turn to him your eyes are blank and unreadable.
“Why have you placed a censorship on our people, My King?” You ask suddenly, and it takes him aback.
“A c-censorship?” He stutters out.
“Yes, you recently placed a censorship on the people of this kingdom, have you not?” You look him in the eyes and find that he can barely hold eye contact, his entire body tense. It is difficult for him to respond, especially since you were not supposed to know about this, at least not this soon.
“It is not a censorship.” He evades.
“Really? So you have not ordered our people to be silent about anything pertaining to pregnancy and children around me?” He fidgets under your piercing tongue, unsure of how to respond. “That sounds quite close to censorship to me.”
“It is only to protect you, My Queen,” He relents, stepping closer to you as you snap your book closed. “People can be very insensitive and I did not want you to be hurt by their words.”
“Hurt by their words? What words would they have said to me? I am not a child, Jimin, you need not protect me from words!” Your volume rises along with the redness of your face. “Are the people criticizing me in some way? What have they said? What have you heard to make you so wary of words?”
“Their words hurt me, (Y/n).” He says quietly as he lowers himself to his knees and takes hold of your hands when he sees the worry in your eyes. “What I heard hurt me, and I could not bear the thought that you may hear such things too. I did not do this because I think you are not strong enough to endure it, I did it because you do not deserve to hear such negativity.”
“Even so, how dare you make such a rash decision without consulting me.” You remove your hands from his and he does not reach for them again. “You saw me directly after your council meeting last week and mentioned not a word of this to me. If you had asked, I would have told you that none of this is necessary, that I can handle whatever my people have to say about me because I am the Queen!” Your voice cracks annoyingly as you fight back hot tears. “I should be able to answer them when they ask me questions. And maybe I should hear what they say about me. Because they are correct, I am not pregnant and I do not know if I can ever become pregnant and maybe they should be worried. My sensitivity should not warrant their silence.”
“You are not sensitive, my love, you have every right to feel the way that you do.” You ignore him.
“But what troubles me the most is how you so easily excluded me. You acted without my consent and planned to keep this from me indefinitely— you even made sure Lilian was the first to know so that she could keep watch over me today! What happened to our communication, Jimin? We should be able to talk to each other about anything and everything, but instead you felt the need to keep something so important a secret from me. You could have simply talked to me and told me how you feel. It feels as though we have not spoken in days, it is almost like you aren’t trying anymore. It feels like you have given up.”
The fire in your tone dies down until all that is left is pain, and Jimin realizes that it is he who has hurt you the most.
Lilian told him about where you went today and how you acted. She told him of the lost and pained look in your eyes as you watched the children, even though you were smiling. Most importantly, she relayed your exact reaction when that woman asked if you were pregnant. It was just as he had feared. Putting these pieces of information together with the book you had been reading, Jimin knows that this argument is about more than what you’d like him to believe.
“This is no longer about the censorship, is it?” He asks cautiously, guilt leaking onto his features. You appear shocked at first, not having realized your own subliminal shift from the topic, but then your face twists with emotion and you bite your lip and turn your head from him in an effort to hold yourself together. You are tired of crying in front of him.
“You-“ Sniffling, you try to control the shakiness of your voice. “You do not talk to me anymore. I never know how you are feeling these days because you have been avoiding me.”
“I do not try to avoid you, my love.” He frowns, moving his hand to rest on your knee.
“It feels like you are. You do not come to my health examinations anymore, you can never seem to make time for them.” He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t let him. “I am always forced to go through them alone and I sit there the entire time wishing that you were there to hold me or reassure me, but I’m always alone. And it may be easier for you to hear the bad news from my mouth, but it hurts me more every time I am forced to tell you that I have failed once again. And we haven’t tried in a long while, I am beginning to fear that you no longer want to touch me.” Your eyes convey a deeper pain than your words can communicate, and the earnestness in them when you look at him breaks his heart. He didn’t mean to make you feel this way, it‘s the last thing he would want.
“I still very much want you, My Queen, I always will. I have been hesitant to initiate anything with you as of late because you seemed so disheartened and dejected and I did not want to further upset you with inappropriate timing. I have also been struggling to keep my optimism, forgive me for my misjudgment.”
“That is another problem,” You sigh, knitting your eyebrows. “I have no idea what you are thinking or feeling. You always comfort me and tell me that I can be open with my emotions with you, yet you do not listen to your own advice and tend to lock up around me. It will not lessen my sadness, but to know that you are just as affected by this as I am and that I am not overreacting would give me the tiniest bit of comfort. But when you force yourself to appear unaffected, it feels as though I am the only one who cares.”
“But I am the King,” Jimin starts, conflicted. “I cannot afford to show weakness or lament in our misfortunes. I must be strong for the people.”
“Strength is not the only trait of value!” You hiss, irritated that he has this perception that is so inaccurate. “Emotion does not always entail vulnerability and the people will see that. They adore how much you care about them, how you grieve with them when you learn of their losses, so why would it be inappropriate for you to care about me? Do not forget that you are also my husband. That is what you signed up for on our wedding day; you married me and the kingdom followed. Why is it that I am never your priority?!”
Sadness transforming into boiling rage, you stand and push past him toward the exit. This is your first real argument with him and it seems that everything that has been bothering you for the past few months is now exploding out of your mouth. You did not mean for your words to be so harsh, yet you could not control them and figured that you should let everything out while you had the chance. Much of your frustration is about your own incompetence, but you redirect it toward him because you cannot handle anymore mental self-abuse. A tiny part of you wants him to yell back at you and affirm everything you already thought about the direction of your relationship just so you could be right about something for once. Most of you, however, wants him to run after you, take you into his arms, look you in the eye and dispel all of your worries by pouring out his heart to you.
And that is exactly what he does.
“My love, do not run away.” He says gently, grabbing your hand before you can even make it 3 steps past him. He moves to the front of you, taking your face in his palms so he can stare into your eyes, hoping they can fill in the blanks between his words. “You are always my priority and you always will be. I-“ He sighs, looking away for a second before returning to you. “I do not always make the best choices, and for that I apologize. Being your husband and a King is far different than being a military general, and it is taking longer to adjust than I anticipated. I love you so much, to the point where I am afraid of making mistakes and losing your heart somehow, so I try too hard to be perfect. I take care of your kingdom because it was yours before it was mine and I know how dearly you hold it’s people. I try to be as tough as possible for you because I thought you would expect it of me when you were feeling weak.” His hands fall to your shoulders. “As a General, I learned that the only way to gain respect and love was to work hard and solve all issues, but it appears that I will need a different mindset in this situation. Because it seems I have become too consumed with work and too busy to show my love for you, and I know I will need to change that if I want to be a good father to our children.”
“You do not need to change at all, Jimin. Who you are trying so hard to be is not the same man you were when I met you. Yes, you were strong in front of others, but you never closed yourself to me. I do not want you to change or pretend to be tough, I want you to be you, because that is who I married.” This causes him to think back to how he has behaved in recent months. Maybe he was avoiding your appointments purposely so he wouldn’t have the chance to break down in front of the doctor or Lilian. And maybe he had been ignoring you so he wouldn’t have to face his own pain that you reflected. He’s been treating you unfairly in an effort to play a role that doesn’t exist, and he welcomes the guilt that slaps him in the face at the realization. He hates that he ended up like this even after all that you went through in the aftermath of your wedding. It is like he had forgotten all that he promised you.
“I apologize for everything, My Queen. I will remove the censorship immediately.” His head bows with heaviness. “I do still want a family with you, but maybe we should take a break from trying, just for a little while. Maybe this building friction between us and the stress it caused has been affecting our fertility. Maybe we are trying too hard and should take your advice to just be ourselves. A baby should be made from love, not by expectation. I do not want-“ He thinks about his next sentence carefully. “I want to improve our relationship first, before our attention is shifted to other matters. We are young and have not yet been married a year, my love, we will have plenty of time to conceive. Let me make up for the neglect you have suffered these past months. Let us take it one day at a time.”
He’s right, your relationship has been strained, and it is not only from the fact that you are not pregnant. The discord between you two has taken a toll on your body: you are constantly exhausted, your head pounds with headaches most days, and the loneliness has changed your positive attitude into one of sulking and disdain. It has changed you. So how could you think of bringing a child into this world when you are at this level of dysfunction? Things needed to be resolved first, and here he is, willing to work everything out with you after accepting his faults. You couldn’t possibly reject him.
It’s been nearly a month since your argument, and things have taken a turn for the better. You helped Jimin realize something he didn’t quite understand before: that as King, anything he says goes, so he has been taking frequent days off to spend time with you. He’s taken you on many dates around the kingdom, showing you his favorite places to go when he was a child, exploring different towns you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet, he even accompanied you on your shopping day to meet some of the friends you’d made. Being able to spend time with him like this reminds you of what it felt like in the beginning of your relationship. The novelty of seeing him and the excitement you’d feel in the pit of your stomach. Except this excitement is now from your curiosity of what activities you’ll do with him that day and not from the thrill of possibly being caught together by servants.
You’ve kept things fairly innocent these past few weeks, focusing on rebuilding your emotional connection instead of being physical. You’d lost a lot of weight during the months you were at odds with Jimin, but you’re happy to say that you’re gaining it back now that you’re paying more attention to your health and happiness and not the crazy diets and detoxes that people recommended to you to help with conception. What’s more, you’ve been keeping busy by accompanying Jimin on his political duties instead of remaining put away in the palace. He didn’t want to involve you in political affairs to keep your stress levels low, but you remind him that you’ve been involved in things like that since you where a young princess, so this is the norm. So now you happily travel with him out of the kingdom to attend meetings with neighboring rulers and assure them of your health.
This is the first trip you’ve taken, and it feels absolutely liberating. Seokjin insisted that you and your husband stay in his family’s vacation home located in the area— one of many acquired throughout his travels as a collector and salesman— and it is arguably nicer than the one offered by the royals of this kingdom. Perhaps not as luxurious (though very close to it) but certainly more private. You’d take any opportunity to escape any hovering servants. Your eyes sparkle as you walk through the doors, taking in the modern furniture, high ceilings, and breathtaking view of the green valley and hills surrounding you. The altitude is quite a bit higher than you’re used to, the kingdom poised along a mountainside and sourcing its water from the river that flows through the valley below.
You blame this altitude for the sick feeling in your stomach and the lightness of your head, trying your hardest to keep your etiquette and not plop face first onto the huge mattress. You sit gingerly on the edge, aided by Jimin, who kept hold of your arm ever since he saw you swaying when you stepped out of the carriage. He fusses over you, letting out a disgruntled grumble when you remind him that you saw the doctor before your departure and she found no troubling conditions within you— not even pregnancy, which you were disappointed to hear, but not surprised. The symptoms come and go and you assure him that all you need is some rest and you’ll be back on your feet, and he leaves you under the watch of Lilian and Kyungsoo (who accompany you everywhere) while he travels to the castle to greet the King and assure him of your safe arrival. You nap while he’s away and awake just in time for dinner, feeling refreshed and symptom free, much to his relief.
Being away from the palace and kingdom is sure to do wonders for your physical and mental health. Just being here with the people you love is a breath of fresh air, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face. Seated at the table accompanied by Jimin, Lilian, and Kyungsoo, you feel this is the closest thing you’ll have to a family dinner for a long while. As your servant, Lilian never eats with you at the same time, let alone at the same table, but you begged her to join you and fill the evening air with casual chatter. Kyungsoo is your favorite guard and you’ve always wanted to get to know him, but he remains relatively quiet throughout the meal and never lets his guard down, taking the farthest seat from his monarchs to silently observe. Typical. With your energy levels still quite low, Jimin and Lilian do their best to raise your spirits by showing off their goofy sides, telling stories and making you laugh almost nonstop. But just seeing them bond so well is enough to make your heart swell. You wonder if Jimin will have this type of relationship with your children, one where they can joke freely and build trust with each other without being hindered by the forced power dynamic. You hope their relationship will be better than the somewhat estranged one you have with your father.
“Are you comfortable, my love?” Jimin asks as you settle in for bed. This mattress seems to be made from the clouds of the heavens, you’ve never felt relaxation like this. You’ll have to purchase one for your own bedroom.
“Yes, My King.” You return, grinning at the way his cheeks lift. He climbs in behind you after blowing out the lanterns, the scent of smoke wafting gently through the room.
“How are you feeling? Better?” He sounds tired and you have no desire to keep him awake with your troubles, so you nod.
“Yes, after my nap and dinner, I feel just fine.” You don’t mention your growing headache because you’re certain a good night’s sleep will resolve it. You’re feeling uncharacteristically tired, exhausted even, and it’s most likely from the long journey here. Hopefully, you’ll wake up refreshed and energized in the morning.
“Alright. Let me know if you need anything tonight.” He whispers, already starting to drift off.
“I won’t trouble you.” You assure him, sinking into slumber.
“Are you sure you are well enough to go out today?” Lilian sifts through your clothing, trying to decide what to dress you in for today’s events, accounting for the warm mid-spring weather. She is alone in the bedroom with you, Jimin having stepped out to give you privacy while getting ready.
“Yes, I am feeling much better.” This isn’t a lie. Although you felt extremely sluggish upon first waking up, you now feel great. Jimin had asked you about a thousand questions before leaving bed this morning and at breakfast, and you dispelled each one of his worries with confidence.
“I am glad to hear that, but please do pay attention to your condition, Your Highness.” She says this as she holds up a pristine gown for your approval, handing it to you when you nod both at her words and fashion choice.
She doesn’t need to vocalize what’s on her mind, you know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you’ve been having the same thoughts. But your doctor was very clear that you are not pregnant when you saw her before the trip. Also, you bleed 2 weeks ago, and though it was short-lived, it was accompanied by cramps and headaches, dutifully reminding you of your empty womb. So you ignore Lilian’s concerns and move about your day like normal, smothering the tiny bud of hope that tries to bloom in your chest.
“Are you excited for today’s meeting?” Moving away from the topic, she smiles at you through the mirror at the way your face lights up, beginning her work on your hair.
“This is the most excited I have felt in a long while! It will be my first diplomatic duty as Queen.” Finally, you feel useful.
“Would you like me to accompany you?” What she means is ‘would you like me to keep an eye on you to make sure you are feeling okay/ nothing bad happens’ but you pretend not to notice.
“No, Lilian, I want you to treat this as a vacation of sorts. You work so hard my humble, loyal friend. Go and explore the towns, have fun while we’re away from the kingdom.”
“I do not want a vacation, I want to make sure you are alright.” She responds quietly, blushing. You hum.
“Respectfully, I do not need to be looked after like a child.” You chuckle. “I can do well on my own. Besides, Jimin and Kyungsoo will be there if anything happens.”
“Then I will take my leave tomorrow after I make sure you are alright today.” She says stubbornly, not meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I cannot relax in good conscience without being assured of your safety.” Nodding, you accept her terms with a smirk.
“Always a pleasure to see you, Queen (Y/n).” King Jackson smiles at you, bowing his head in greeting. You grin widely as you sit across from him and his wife at the large conference table, Jimin placed closely at your side.
“You as well, Jackson.” Last you saw him, he was a prince. In fact, he submitted the first marriage proposal you’d ever received, asking your father for your hand in marriage as soon as he heard you were of age. He is a little less than 4 years older than you, handsome, bubbly personality, likable and charming on all fronts, and you had no qualms with marrying him, but you also had no desire to leave your kingdom to rule another. As King, he would have you move into his castle and be at his service where you would likely not hold any power or say in most matters involving the people, something that deeply displeased you, so you turned him down. Now he has a wife and several small children, as well as the throne and an entire kingdom to lead. And as of your coronation, he is your kingdom’s closest ally.
“No need to be so formal, Queen.” He jokes, immediately setting a relaxed atmosphere. You are meeting to discuss and update the terms of a treaty between your allied nations, one that your fathers had written and agreed upon many years ago, but legally needs to be reviewed thanks to the recent shift in power. Your father is quite close with Jackson’s own, therefore you have a good relationship with the young King from years of getting acquainted during your childhood. Jimin, however, has no such history with the man and seems rather tense around the lighthearted playful. “I was disappointed when you refused by marriage proposal, but it seems that you have chosen a handsome and competent spouse in my place, just as I have.” He grins, winking at his wife, Lena.
“It was never ‘your place’, do not be so big headed,” You roll your eyes but he ignores your quip, eyes trained on Jimin.
“We spoke yesterday evening, but I am intrigued to get to know more of you, King Park. May I call you Jimin?” Jackson barely waits for a reply before continuing. “I must know more of the man whom I am to be allied with, and the man who married the ever-so-independent princess.”
“I must admit, I am curious about you, too. But if my beloved trusts and acknowledges you, then I will do the same.” Reaching under the table, Jimin’s hand finds yours and you smirk, pleased that he won’t let the other King intimidate him.
“Regarding the treaty;” Jackson pulls out a long document, skimming over the lengthy script that you are both irritatingly familiar with. “Will our kingdom’s continue to remain allied during times of war, help financially and provide resources in times of natural disaster, respect the borders set by each nation without the intention of gaining territory, and continue to keep trade borders open?” He reads off the major points of the list, you and Jimin answering with a ‘yes’ to each. “Is there anything else you would like to add?”
“Not that I can think of.” You respond, Jimin saying the same. Feeling satisfied by your responses, Jackson signs his name under the print of your fathers, passing the document to you for your signature. But you slide the paper to your husband, whose name appears in ink now instead of yours. Surprised by this, you can see the unfiltered comment bubbling out from the brazen King’s dome.
“I would not have expected, (Y/n), that you would submit the powers of your status to a man.” It is obvious that he has already assumed that your action means that you no longer hold the highest authority in your own land, but you are both quick to correct him.
“You are mistaken.” Your voices harmonize into one as you say this, Jimin continuing on to explain. “My Queen has not yielded even an inch of power to me. As I am sure you know, she is fully capable of handling affairs such as these, any responsibility she has shifted to me has been due to her own discretion.” Though his tongue is quick, Jimin is sure to keep a light, non-malicious tone so as not to offend your friend. You’d much rather focus on internal public affairs, leaving international and business related issues to your husband. But it seems others have the wrong idea about you.
The man across from you blinks at this, raising his eyebrows, and you know Jimin has just gained a large amount of respect in his eyes. You find it quite flattering to see him so defensive of you and you give an approving squeeze of his hand.
“As expected,” Jackson hums with a grin, receiving the document as Jimin passes it back to him. “Well, it seems that our business here is complete! Shall we have champagne to celebrate this swift agreement?” He doesn’t realize his error until his wife nudges him in the ribs and he looks up to see your faces pulled into wide-eyed frowns. “Ah, yes— my apologies,” He scratches his neck bashfully. “Then, may I interest you in some exercise?” Eyes boring straight into Jimin’s, he asks this as the men share a look.
“Oh, this is so exciting!” Lena beams, nearly bouncing in her seat as you both observe from a bench on the side of the field. Somehow you hadn’t expected this when Jackson offered his proposal. Your husbands are standing in a marked area with protective gear covering their bodies and gleaming swords, preparing for a sparring match in the warm weather. The sun beats down on you as you squint at them, using your hand to shade your eyes before Lilian appears with a parasol to place over your head. “Have you ever seen your husband fight before?” She asks, staring at your side profile.
“Never.” You respond. “This should be interesting.” Admittedly, you tend to shy away from violence, resenting the thought of people battling each other for bloody glory. Though you are in charge of the military, you never ask for too many details, and skillfully avoid any training grounds near the castle. It may be ironic, then, that you married a General who has seen more battles than he’s cared to mention and carries more scars than he’d care to explain. But you must admit that you’re intrigued by the spectacle he’s sure to put on for you, comforted by the fact that this is completely safe.
“Jackson has been training sword for most of his life, but has never seen an actual battle. I wonder how their skills will compare.” Lena states proudly, sipping from the drink one of her servants comes to offer, dismissed when you decline.
“I hear that you were a General, King Park.” Jackson checks the cap at the tip of his sword, nodding to the instructor that stands at his side.
“I’d like to think that I still am one.” Jimin responds as he stretches out his stiff muscles.
“Even after being promoted to Commander in Chief?”
“I’ve done nothing to earn that title but get married.” The man before him hums.
“I assume you are quite skilled with a sword then, have you practiced fencing before?”
“Of course, it is taught as the basics of sword fighting. Though, I would not say I am a master.” Humbly, your husband lowers his head to inspect his blade, shaking his head at Jackson’s outcry.
“Nonsense! Any man who has done battle for his life is surely a master. Though, I do ask that you do not hold back on me here; I certainly will not do the same for you.” A wolfish grin creeps up onto both Kings faces, mirroring each other as they pull down the hoods of their face guards.
“You’ve said nothing of your own skill thus far, I will not make the mistake of underestimating you.” The match starts swiftly after they take position, Jackson lunging forward and barely missing Jimin’s side as he dodges out of the way.
Your mouth falls open as they move, each motion calculated and precise. You know nothing about fencing, but it is clear that they are both highly skilled. You’ve never seen your lover move this way before, so dynamic and captivating as though he were performing a dance. Powerful and graceful in every step taken toward his opponent, wielding his blade as though it were an extension of himself. He is beautiful to watch, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest as you are enraptured by the display. Both King’s are even in size and capability, but you can see the ease of movement Jimin possesses compared to Jackson’s deliberate strokes, almost as if he were teasing him. Lena cheers from beside you, but you can’t make a sound. Seeing him like this— completely in his element and moving so gracefully— has your body heating for another reason unrelated to the unrelenting sun. You’ve married an amazing man.
“You’re quick.”
“That is a great compliment, coming from you,” Jackson grunts, keeping Jimin on the defensive with his bold attacks. “But I can tell you are merely playing with me.”
“Not playing.” Waiting. One thing Jimin is an expert at is waiting. Patience is his strength, in fighting and in his daily life. He was patient when it came to you, taking his time with each step of your relationship until he was entirely sure that you were ready, that you wanted him. He was patient with each of his military promotions, climbing up the ranks with hard work and diligence until he was recognized. And he will continue to be patient with the next stage of his life, trying his best not to lose hope that you will become pregnant one day, so he will deal with the disappointment and trials with you for as long as it takes.
As soon as Jackson falters he takes his shot, attacking with swift consecutive swings until his opponent is pushed far back on his side of the space and leaves an opening, one decisive lunge ending the match. They both pant as Jimin’s sword makes contact with the center of the other King’s chest, the cap pressed into the padding protecting his flesh. There’s silence for a beat before they both drop their guard, retuning to the start position. Jimin turns his head to make sure you were watching, lifting his mask to wink at you and smirking salaciously when you blush.
“Well done.” Jackson nods. “But I won’t let you get the better of me next time!”
“Your husband is a bit intense, no?” You ask Lena as she giggles, humming in agreement.
“And it seems your husband is a bit competitive.” You also nod, the heat drying your mouth as you watch her sip her drink again. She calls over her servant when she catches your stare and they hand you a glass— Kyungsoo swooping in annoyingly to try it first before you can taste the sweet liquid. “He seems very fit and possesses a beautiful physique, I’m astounded that you have the willpower to leave bed with a man like that, especially as newlyweds.”
You choke on your drink mid-swallow, nearly spitting it out because of her words. Jackson has a notoriously dirty mind, it is no surprise to you that his wife shares that quality— she’d have to, in order to tolerate him. She laughs as Lilian takes the drink from you as you wipe your mouth, turning the comment back on her.
“I could say the same to you, Jackson is just as built.”
“Oh, trust that he kept me in bed for months after our wedding date. It is no coincidence that I have this many children now.” Her eyes shift back to the men on the field, seemingly satisfied with the rosiness of your cheeks. Recovering, you address her once more.
“Speaking of, may I meet them?”
“I’ve known (Y/n) for most of my life,” Jackson speaks up during their final round. “Though I submitted a proposal, she’s grown to be like a sister to me over the years.”
“Is that so?” Jimin grunts, their swords clashing loudly.
“I was skeptical of what kind of man she had chosen when word spread of your betrothal. Wondered if you would be able to protect her as she tends to venture out and do things on her own; sometimes-” He jumps back as Jimin closes in. “-befriending the wrong people. I worried when I heard of the catastrophe at your wedding ceremony.” The cap of Jimin’s sword touches to his opponent’s chest once again, ending the sparring match. They both remove their helmets and masks, breathing heavily as they look at each other. “I truly empathize with what you were forced to experience. I could not imagine being in that situation with my wife.” Both men turn to look at you and Lena, their 4 children surrounding you as you hold the youngest in your lap. It is a sight that simultaneously melts and breaks your husband’s heart. “Nonetheless, after meeting you, I am confident that she is in good hands. I like you a lot, Jimin, and though my approval may mean nothing, I think you are an excellent match for her.”
You look up to see them shaking hands, both of them walking over to you with content looks on their faces. The child in your lap looks up as his father approaches, making grabby hands at your friend until he reaches down and lifts him from you. You watch with starry eyes as Jackson props the child up on his hip, kissing over his chubby cheeks and forehead, but then your attention is pulled away when Jimin stops to stand in front of you.
“Did you win?” You ask, already knowing the answer.
“Yes, My Queen,” He bows dutifully, running a hand through his sweaty hair. It should be offensive how sexy he looks right now, standing in the sun with his wet hair, skin shining with hard work and eyes landing lazily on your figure with a lazy smirk. Your heart jumps and you have to look away before your mind slips even further away. “Do I get a victory kiss?” He bends down toward you, puckering his lips, and you push lightly at his chest with a laugh.
“But you’re all sweaty!” Your nose wrinkles at him but your eyes still lock onto his lips, even as you continue to swat at him.
“No kiss for your King?” Jackson quips, turning to his own wife who is already shaking her head in disgust. “Lena~ Don’t I get a reassurance kiss after my defeat?” The same look Jimin has on his face is contagious to the other King, who grins at Lena as she shields her face with another one of their giggling children, peeking out from over her shoulder. Both men approach with puckered lips, causing their Queens to squeal at their playfulness— you even hop up from the bench to avoid him, taunting him as Jimin chases you around the field. It’s rather immature, but you feel no need to pretend here or uphold appearances in front of your hosts. Lilian and Kyungsoo look on fondly, never having seen you so carefree.
“You never minded my sweat before, my love.” Jimin whispers to you when you finally allow him to give you a peck on the lips, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. You don’t respond, rolling your eyes at him with a barely hidden smile.
“You seem to be getting along nicely with Jackson.” You comment as you rummage through your luggage, searching for one specific item. Jimin replies from behind the partition of the bathroom, bathing away the grime of the day in preparation for the night. You had both sent Lilian away when she offered to help and she took off to explore the nighttime activities of the kingdom, one of Jackson’s male servants offering to be her guide. You’ll be sure to ask her for details in the morning.
“Yes, he is quite an interesting character. He gave me his official approval to marry you, which I suppose I am grateful for.” Hearing the smile in his voice, you giggle, silencing the gasp that leaves your chest when you pull out the delicate lace garments, your heart rate speeding up. You aren’t sure why you feel so anxious about this. It’s not like you to get nervous about being intimate with Jimin, but you’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while since you last had him, the recent abstinence keeping your body on edge. Or maybe you are worried about what he will say when he sees you. Embarrassment colors your face as you quickly slip on the set, covering yourself with a robe when you are finished.
“He gave you his blessing to marry me?” You chuckle.
Stepping onto the tile of the partitioned washroom, you stand before the full length mirror to inspect yourself before tying it closed. The robe covers you from Jimin’s viewpoint behind you as he finishes washing up, and you try to appear productive as you move to moisturize yourself. When he is finished, your husband approaches from behind, a towel hung low on his waist as he comes to wrap his arms around your midsection. You can feel his sturdy body pressing into you as he pulls you closer, his eyes staring into yours through the glass when he rests his chin on your shoulder.
“His ego hasn’t shrunk an inch since I last saw him.” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two of you sway gently together.
“Well, he is a King.” Jimin reasons in a whisper.
“But so are you.” His arms loosen around you when he feels you start to turn, both of your eyes open now as you peer up at him with glittering eyes, gingerly locking your fingers behind his neck. Your heart kicks up as you watch the easy grin on his lips, the absolute and unwavering adoration he holds for you so evident in his gaze. It reminds you of earlier times, his expression the exact same as when he first confessed that he was in love with you and you reciprocated, kissing him so certainly. Now, you kiss him with practiced ease and press ever closer into his warm body. Jimin’s tongue dances with yours, both of you getting lost in the moment until you are forced to pull away for air. “You were amazing today, General Park.”
The use of his former title makes his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It isn’t like he doesn’t like the name, it is simply that he never expected to hear it come from you again.
“I did not realize that you were so agile and powerful, I was very impressed with what I saw.” One of your fingers trails down his chest, playing in the dip of his v-line before coyly tracing back upwards with each slow word you speak. “That is not to say that I was unaware of your capabilities, you have found great success in protecting me and my kingdom, but watching you was eye opening... and quite arousing.” His breath hitches in a way that gives you more confidence, courage swelling in your chest that helps you ignore the redness of your cheeks.
“Is that so?” Jimin swallows, curiosity lighting his gaze.
You hum in affirmation. “You must work extremely hard to become that skilled, so I thought it appropriate to give you a gift to show my appreciation for all that you do.” Taking a step back, you play with the ribbon of your robe, amused by the sudden change in Jimin’s expression. He watches you like a predator stalking it’s pray, detailing every movement of your nimble fingers with a heaving chest as you move at a snail’s pace to untie your robe. You decide to tease further once the ribbon is finally untied, only revealing the tops of your shoulders from the silk, holding yourself in modesty until it looks like he’s going to go insane before you open the from to reveal yourself.
Jimin feels like he could faint from what he sees when the robe drops. You are decorated in a lacy white lingerie set that is quite transparent, your nipples visible through the designs of the fabric. The bra of the set extends downwards under your cleavage and he feels his hands lifting to rest on your ribs to touch the material, following it delicately until he cups your breasts with his palms. Maybe it is due to the design of this expensive undergarment, but you fill out the bra much more than either of you would have expected, your breasts round and pushing at it in all the right spots. This is the lingerie set that Jin had hidden behind your commissioned painting as part of your wedding gift, and Jimin had completely forgotten that it was in your possession. He chooses not to question how Seokjin knows your body measurements in order to purchase the present. Eyes trailing down, Jimin takes in the equally scandalous panties that adorn your hips, all parts solid white except for the crotch that remains lacy and see-through giving him a view that makes his mouth water.
You look absolutely stunning, and he tells you in as many words as possible.
“Your gift is not yet complete, General.” The look on his face is everything that you had hoped for, and you wish to shock him even further with your next move. Hooking your fingers into the towel at his waist, you unravel it and expose his growing length, sinking down in front of him.
Quickly, he grabs your arm once he realizes what you are doing, preventing you from going lower. You pout up at him. “My Queen, a woman of your status should never kneel on the ground for any man. You must remain dignified.”
“My dignity,” You half scoff at the notion, rising to look him in his beautiful brown eyes. “I have neither dignity nor pride. You have it all, my love; I have given myself to you completely.” You allow yourself to break from your role play just this once, he needs to know that your words are true. If there is anything he should know by now, it is that you hold no reservations toward him. With him, you are equal and you trust him completely. It is not like you have never serviced him before, but he has never seen you on your knees below him due to his own beliefs and you would like to change that tonight. “I want to do this for you.”
This time when you lower yourself, he allows you to drop until your knees rest on the ground. The view he has is undeniably sinful. You can tell how much he enjoys it by how rapidly he hardens in front of your face. But when you look up from your own spot on the floor, you find that your view is equally as jaw dropping. Jimin looks down at you from over his nose, the damp hair on his head sticking to his forehead and dangling over his eyes, shadowing his features into sharp lines. Every inch of his body is chiseled to perfection, displaying the hours of training he has undergone over the years to get to the level of skill you witnessed today, and if it were not for you already kneeling on the marble, your knees would have buckled right from under you. He is like a statue carved by the gods. And he is all yours.
“If a Queen wants her soldiers to keep performing for her she must reward them, and you are the very best, so I will be sure to give you special treatment.” Lightly grasping his member, you take the time to feel how he grows in your grip. Just the feeling of you running your fingers over his plush balls has him almost fully erect, the muscles of his abdominals tensing as you lean forward to slide him into your mouth, caressing the underside of his cock with your tongue without closing your lips just yet. You’ll work him up slowly, you decide, wanting him to savor this rare occasion in hopes that he will allow you to do it again sometime. Your palm smears your saliva around his shaft and starts to steadily pump him up and down, the simple action causing a groan to tear from your lover’s throat.
Jimin does not know where to look in this moment. Should he focus on your hands as the diligently work to pleasure him? Your tongue when it peeks out from your lips to tease at his slit? The dip of your cleavage that lie in his direct line of sight, framed so perfectly by the underwear you don? Or perhaps those smoldering eyes you stare up at him with, those plotting, gorgeous eyes that call to his deepest desires? You look as if you would do anything for him at this moment— you have intentionally put yourself at his feet to show how vulnerable you are willing to be with him, that you trust him to the utmost degree and you would sink this low, literally, to demonstrate that.
“Shit,” Jimin curses, eyes trained on the way your lips wrap around his reddening tip. You sense his hands fidgeting at his sides, so you take them to place on top of your head, nodding encouragingly until he weaves his fingers into your hair. He throbs in your mouth and you fight back a smirk.
Working meticulously, you take the time to circle your tongue around every sensitive place at his cockhead, licking slowly over his frenulum and flicking over his slit as it starts to leak. The flavor is slightly salty and entirely him, and it makes your legs press together from where your knees dig into the polished marble. Your lips and tongue play at his upper half for a while, one of your hands rubbing whimsical patterns along his tensing thigh while the other tends to his aching base, pumping in time with your mouth with a slight twist to your wrist that has his fingers tightening against your scalp.
“Are you enjoying your gift?” You break away to speak, twirling your tongue around the line of saliva that connects you to his tip in the most lewd way possible.
“Yes,” Jimin pants, clearing his throat when his voice comes out raspy. But the sound makes you drip into your designer panties, the flimsy material doing little against your increasing wetness. “How did you become so skilled at this, My Queen? You are such an angel but possess devilish talent with that pretty mouth of yours.”
“I had an excellent teacher.” You wink up at him, hoping he was imaging all the times he guided you when you wished to taste him, becoming more confident as time passed and you no longer feared your gag reflex. You figure now is a good time to demonstrate just how well you absorbed those lessons, you finally sink further down on him until he touches the back of your mouth, collecting your spit to slick him before pushing him deeper and into your throat. Your stomach quivers as you hold back the urge to gag, but he sees none of that because when you look up his head is tossed back in ecstasy and concentration. He must focus so he doesn’t cum so soon.
“Just like that.” Biting into the plush of his bottom lip, Jimin falls into the trance of your movements, bobbing up and down on him with his tip lodged in your throat. The first moan he lets out has a shiver crawling up your spine, deep and loud so it echoes against every surface of the room. Drool slides out of your mouth as you continue to suck him but you pay no mind to it, only focused on the way your lover’s body reacts to you. His chest heaves for breath and you can see perspiration beginning to coat his chest and neck, Adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. The hand that was previously occupied with the rest of his length moves to his balls, kneading and massaging the sack gently as more moans pour from his mouth. Your clit throbs the longer you suck on him, his cock now at full length and hardness and feeling so thick and heavy on your jaw that you can’t help but fantasize about feeling it inside you again.
His hips eventually begin to twitch and rock into each of your movements, but you can tell he is restraining himself from bucking into you fully. When his eyes connect with yours again, you nod as best you can, pulling off slightly to take a few deep breaths and kiss along his silky skin. Once you have your breathing back to normal, you poise yourself with your mouth open wide and tongue poking out, the sight of you inviting him into your warmth while dressed so scantly and looking up at him with such confidence making it incredibly difficult for him to keep his composure. Here you are, his Queen, the ruler of an entire kingdom by birth right who possesses such elegance and high esteem, sitting below him and offering your throat for his pleasure. This is something that no one else in the entire world will ever see and he feels something similar to pride swelling in his chest at that fact. He knows what you are silently asking him to do, so he does not keep you waiting a second longer before inserting himself back into your mouth and easing his way in until your nose is nestled in the trimmed hair above his pubic bone.
Curses leave him in a continuous string as he takes time to adjust to the sensation, a lightness filling your head that makes you feel like you are floating through the clouds. And that feeling only increases when he starts to move, pulling his hips back for you to take in air through your nose before thrusting in again. Jimin fucks your mouth slowly at first, warming you up to it before he starts to get a bit rougher and visibly more eager, his lips sucked into his mouth as he glares down at you. In any other context, you would think him angry if he ever peered at anyone this intensely, but now you only feel the pool of arousal that builds in your core and gushes out of you at the intimidating glower. Still, his muscles are rigid with hesitance.
“May I go faster?” He breathes, never pulling out to free your mouth to respond. You moan out an answer as best you can, running your tongue against him in approval until he finally releases his tension and follows the urges of his body. He doesn’t aim deep into you, but his pace is quick, surely bruising your esophagus, yet you cannot bring yourself to be bothered. The sensation is indescribable, his hands cupping the back of your head and the sheer heat of his body almost overrides the lack of oxygen in your lungs— and simply imagining the pleasure he is feeling because of you has electricity shooting down to your core. Jimin has his eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth, but they quickly shift when your hands find their way to your chest to pull down the bra just enough so your nipples poke out, both hands pushing your breasts together to give him a sight that almost causes him to lose his load right then and there. His hips lose control, stuttering and twitching as his eyes widen comically at the dream-like image of you, and he is forced to pull away after little over a minute of fucking your face. “Fuck-!”
“Is something the matter?” You ask innocently, knees screaming out from your sustained position. The veins in your husband’s hand bulge as he grips himself so tightly his knuckles turn white, his length jumping every time he opens his eyes to look at you. His use of hard profanity is enough to tell you how much you have unraveled him and you revel in the accomplishment.
“Get up here.” He pants, taking your arm in his free hand and helping you to your feet. You hear him click his tongue at the redness of your knees, but don’t have much time to dismiss it before his lips are on yours. Jimin kisses you deeply as if your face is not sloppy with saliva and his precum. He kisses you like it could save lives. And above every filthy thing you have done with him, this kiss is what makes you feel a bashful heat color your cheeks when he pulls you closer.
“Am I to assume I performed well?” You mumble against his lips, eyes crossing slightly to see his smile.
“You were outstanding. So much so that I nearly came down your pretty throat.” Smugly, Jimin unclips your bra, parting from your lips after several minutes of kissing to trace his tongue down your neck until he reaches your chest, forgoing all teasing to wrap his lips around a pert nipple.
“Oh-“ A surprised yelp leaves you and he has to use his strength to keep you from falling over, your legs suddenly feeling like jelly. Your fingers card through his drying hair, tugging at the unbothered man as he has his fun marking and sucking at you. As always, his mouth works miracles, but you have never felt anything like this before. Each swipe of his tongue around your nub has you moaning out his name, when he twists at the other nipple your head falls back in absolute bliss. He’s not doing anything extraordinarily notable, but it is like your body has reached a sensitivity that is completely new to you both. Jimin certainly is enjoying it immensely. His eyes are closed but you can see how they crinkle gleefully at the sides, his cheekbones high almost as if trying to conceal his amusement at your reactions. With puckered lips, he suctions one of your nipples before pulling back to speak.
“I can’t wait,” He grazes his teeth over your other tit before continuing. “-until these fill up with milk for our baby. I’m sure you will look incredible carrying our child inside you— even more amazing than you already look, my love. So round and plump... your cute little womb filled to the brim with my cum and baby.” Your eyes roll when one of his hands slips down your panties to tease at your lips. A growl resonates in his chest at the feel of your wetness. “You like the sound of that, don’t you? What would the people say if they found out that their elegant Queen got soaking wet just from sucking cock and thinking of getting her pussy stuffed full of cum? Hmm? Surely they will know how filthy you are once they see you swollen with my child, walking around the kingdom so shamelessly after getting marked by my seed. They’ll know just how good you’ve been for me, darling.”
“I want them to know I’m yours; I want to be pregnant with your baby so badly!” You sob, hips bucking into his hand as soon as he makes contact with your clit.
He soothes you with soft kisses along your face, ending with a lick to the corner of your mouth as you pant out loud moans for him. “I know, love. The time will come soon enough.”
Once again his lips return to your chest, and the combination of his mouth and fingers has your walls fluttering and clenching around nothing. Even after he removes his hand from your panties to hold you closer to him, you feel the building of an orgasm. Your body is completely taken by his tongue and teeth as they suckle cherry blossoms into your skin. And when his wet fingers travel up to twist at your unattended nipple, you feel your body careening off the edge unexpectedly.
“J-Jimin, I-“ Your sentence is cut short by a long whimper, mind going blank at the pleasure. You are able to feel how your walls snap open and closed, each pulse growing more intense as the high drags on for what seems like an eternity to you. Jimin groans at the sounds you make and he looks on in awe from where he still laves at your breast as you bite down on your lower lip to ground yourself. He doesn’t mind the way you tug at his roots in your bliss. The pain only adds to the throbbing of his cock.
“So sexy,” He murmurs as you regain your senses. You seem embarrassed, unable to meet his eyes, and he questions it.
“I have never-“ Averting your eyes to the ground, you look for words in your scrambled mind.
“You’ve never cum like that before?” For some reason you find it slightly humiliating and you have no idea why. Were you really that sensitive from not having sex with him for a few weeks? Your nipples were never that receptive before. Nodding in agreement, you hide your face until Jimin lifts your chin with his finger. “Do not shy away from me, My Queen. You look gorgeous when you cum.” Before you can process it, his hands are yanking down your ruined panties, drenched all the way through and dripping. Your back connects with the wall next to the mirror as you are pinned against the surface with his weight. His fingers slide over your clit and you jolt, attempting to close your legs, but he is faster and jams his thigh between yours to hold you open. “In fact, you look so good that I want to see you do it again.”
Without warning, he plunges 2 fingers knuckle deep into you, searching with little trouble for that spongey area inside you. You are wet enough to lubricate his fingers until he drips down his hand, the slick part of his palm beginning to rub harshly against your clit when his fingers curl upwards.
“Oh fuck,” You gasp brokenly when he reaches your spot. Feeling you clench, Jimin hums and goes to work massaging the area with the pads of his fingers, pressing his other hand to your lower stomach to increase the pressure. Since the first time you squirted he has been almost obsessed with the sight, working diligently to figure out how to make you do it again. There have been many nights dedicated solely to that cause— nights that you endured with bright red cheeks each time he made fun of your fucked out expression and hoarse voice— it is to the point where he now knows your every weakness and can manipulate your body with mastery. He knows exactly how much pressure you like when his fingers are deep inside you. He knows just the right way to massage that sensitive area to get you to fall apart again even if you feel overstimulated. He knows how to move his entire arm to hit that spot each time without fail, his technique flawless as he moves rapidly inside your clenching heat. Almost like a balloon filling with water, you feel another high building up in your core frighteningly fast and the lewd squelch coming from between your legs soon becomes the loudest noise in the room.
“Let go for me,” Jimin encourages into your skin, burying his face in the crook of your neck and panting hot breaths. It is easy to tell how easily he gets himself worked up when pleasuring you. His hard, wet cock twitches incessantly against your thigh, teasingly close to where you want him, and the feeling alone has you galloping closer to your second release. “You look so beautiful like this, pushed against a wall and taking my fingers. I bet you are just starving for my cock, aren’t you, My Queen? I’ll give it to you right after you cum for me. I want you to show me how badly you want it by soaking my arm with your sweet juices.”
The filthy words he feeds you only add to the hunger you feel for him. One of your legs lifts to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as the balloon in your core continues to grow. Your heart is in your ears, beating rapidly, and you have no other choice but to listen to him and release your pleasure. With one synchronized prod of his fingers and circle around your clit, you descend into depraved ecstasy and let the balloon pop. You black out slightly, ears ringing and body numb to the world except for everywhere that your husband touches you, but you are aware of the satisfied moan he gives at your obedience. Whispers of delicate praises tickle your chest as he rests his forehead on your collarbone to watch you soil the floors and his lower half with your clear cum. The sound of it splashing and splattering against each nearby surface is quite embarrassing but you can’t bring yourself to think of it when your legs are shaking this hard and your body is tingling with joy.
“Good girl,” You hear Jimin groan, pulling his fingers from you to wrap his arms around your waist so you don’t topple over on your wobbly leg. He figures it may just be easier to keep you up if both of your legs are off the wet floor, so he moves your other leg to wind around his waist before carrying you out of the room and away from the mess to the bed.
Your glazed eyes take him in as he stands above you, a hand running through his disheveled hair as he studies you as well. His face is flushed and sweaty and his chest rises and falls quickly, but you’re sure that is only partly due to the effort he has just put in. There are claw marks on his shoulders and you gasp. You hadn’t realized you were gripping him so tightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind the marks at all, focused entirely on the throbbing member between his legs. Your eyes drop down his toned body to where his hand leisurely strokes up and down his shaft, purposely avoiding the tip to keep himself on the edge. It is almost purple with built up pressure, likely painful by this point, and you will yourself to move your weak limbs to reach out for him, pulling him closer to invite him between your open legs.
He takes his place at your center, one hand pressing into the soft mattress beside your head as he leans over you. You want him to kiss you so badly, but you want him inside you even more. He acquiescences this by sliding into you smoothly before swooping down for your lips.
“Mm~ Jimin!” The thick girth of his shaft stretches you perfectly, ignorant of your ticklish sensitivity as it searches for the deepest spot within you. In no time at all Jimin’s hips are flush with your ass, lips and tongue swallowing your moans into his own mouth.
“(Y/n)-“ He moans in response. Eyes squeezed tight, he forces himself to remain still. “I lose my breath every time I take this dripping pussy of yours. I’ll never get used to it.” Flattered, you hide your face with his by pulling him in for another kiss. The two of you stay like this for a long while, adjusting to each other’s bodies and basking in the intimacy of the moment.
“My love, please move.” You whine when the stillness becomes unbearable, yet you grieve at the loss of his heat when he leans away to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.
The first thrust of his hips already has you squirming. Your slick makes it so easy for him to pump into you that he barely has to put in any effort at all, his hips snapping sharply into you from the beginning. You let your legs fall farther apart at his sides and bite your lip when Jimin’s eyes land between your thighs, staring intently at the place where your bodies connect. You’re sure he can see everything, from the way your lips spread open around his wide member, to the shiny streaks of your arousal that quickly slick the inside of your thighs. It’s like you can feel his gaze caressing you, your body feeling sensitive everywhere he studies. You moan unabashedly at the sensation.
“Do you like it, My Queen? Does this feel good?” He prompts, eager for your praise.
“Y-yes, I-“ It has been so long without his cock inside you that you can’t think clearly. All you can do is shout his name and cling to the bedsheets as he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds them flush against his front. The angle makes you stutter, his tip touching somewhere sensitive that has your thighs squeezing closed. “P-please, harder. Use me.”
“Keep these fucking legs open.” Jimin growls, thrusting more harshly now. You attempt to follow his command and unclench your thighs, but they shake violently as soon as they part and it takes immense focus for you to hold them there. Looking up at your lover, you see the dark look that overtakes his features, dominance radiating off of him as he gets lost in you. You haven’t seen this look on him in a long while, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t sexy. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, devour you whole and leave not a morsel of you left until he’s had his fill.
Watching Jimin gain so much pleasure from you takes you to another level of bliss. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pounds his cock within your depths, determined to pull more desperate sounds from your throat, and his teeth bite down on his plush bottom lip in concentration. Sweat now trickles down his brow from the humid heat of the room, undoing the bath he took prior and replacing the soap with the scent of sex that leaks from his pores. This man is undeniably the hottest person you have ever laid eyes on and you can’t help but clench around him at the visuals he’s giving you.
Feeling you clench, Jimin moans, dragging his eyes up your figure until they land on your breasts. They jolt with every harsh thrust he gives you and dance flirtatiously in front of him— he can’t look away. Suddenly, he leans down and snatches up your hands, pinning them above your head with his fingers intertwined with yours, nearly drooling at how delectable you look under him. Your breasts certainly look different, the shape has become rounder and they jiggle slightly more than he can remember, but Jimin doesn’t think much of this as he focuses on delivering hard strokes. You shiver when his tongue licks a stripe up your damp neck, sucking a spot just below your ear before nibbling the lobe. He knows this is a weak spot for you, and just as he expected, your walls tighten around him once more. You push against him, trying to free your hands, but he has them locked sturdily in his grasp, silently forcing you to submit to him. You probably want to wind your fingers in his hair or grip onto his biceps, but he won’t give up an ounce of power at the moment. Not while he is ravaging you like this. So you settle for squeezing his hands and soaking in their warmth, gasping breathlessly as he takes you. You are entirely at his mercy and you absolutely love it.
One of his hands moves down to grip your thigh and push it open, unlocking you from where you have been clenched around his hips. Both of your wrists now held in one hand and still pinned against the sheets. The bed frame creaks noisily as he changes pace, abandoning his hard and fast thrusts for a slow and deep grind that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Something feels different about you, about the way you feel around him as the head of his cock licks at your cervix. It’s softer than usual and open for him, almost begging for his sperm, and he thinks this is the perfect time to get you pregnant. He aims to stay deep inside you. Each powerful movement is purposeful, everything down to the slight arch of his back that allows his pubic bone to grind into your clit, and you feel like you’re going crazy.
“Oh fuck, Jimin! I’m close again!” Your voice is strained in your throat and he smirks at the sound. He can feel it, the swell of your walls around him as you near your third high, and he swears it’s tighter than usual. Your muscles begin to tense up and push against him, preparing for your inevitable release. And just because you feel like pushing his buttons today, you allow your thighs to attempt to squeeze closed again.
“What did I say?!” The depth of his voice shocks you briefly and your eyes snap open to look at him. His jaw is tight as his stare bores into you with deadly intensity. “Keep your fucking legs open. Or do I have to hold them for you?” You let out a whimper, not daring to move your hands from their raised position when he drops your wrists to push open your other thigh, leaving you dripping and exposed in front of him. Your skin dimples where his fingertips dig into you— though he is careful not to bruise you— and he seems to hit even deeper like this. “You used to be so well behaved, My Queen. Are you acting out just to get a rise out of me?”
You dodge the question. “Please, Jimin, please make me cum again.” You can hardly hear anything aside from the slap of his balls against your ass and the squelch of his cock pushing through your warm walls.
“You think you deserve to cum? What will you do for it?” A dark chuckle leaves his throat when he sees you genuinely thinking of a response, biting so hard on your lip that he fears it might bleed.
“Anything.” You breathe. You’re unsure of how long you can hold back your orgasm, he feels so good fucking you like this, pushing his whole length into you without mercy.
“Anything, darling?” A lecherous grin plasters itself onto his mouth at your expression. “Hm, are you just saying that because you’re desperate? I can tell it feels good, you’re leaking all over me. Do you like it when I go deep like this?” You nod with a whine, eyelids pressed closed to hold back from cumming. “Open your eyes. Look at how deep I am inside you.” Peeling your eyes open, you peer down at yourself upon his command and see where his own eyes are glued. A small bulge presses against your lower abdomen every time he pushes in, disappearing when he pulls out only to reappear with the next thrust. Neither of you can take your eyes off of the sight, absolutely mesmerized by it.
“Please, I’m so close!” You groan loudly.
“You say you’ll do anything, my love?”
“Yes!”
“Will you be a good girl and let me put my baby in you? Let me cum right here against this fertile womb and get you pregnant with my baby?” The effect of his dirty talk is immediate and you clamp down on him, barely holding back as his hand rests over the bulge in your tummy, adding the tiniest amount of pressure to it.
“I will! Please!” Tears wet your doe eyes as you look up at him, digging your nails into the soft sheets above your head to keep from moving your arms from their position. He notes this with a hum, speeding up his hips in reward for your obedience.
“I know you will. Now cum.” On command, your body lets go of all the pent up pressure in your core, gripping onto his length with unbearable strength. Your walls pulsate with so much force that you nearly push him out, and when he finally pulls out of you, you squirt once again over the ledge of the bed. His hands on your legs do nothing to quell the wild tremors that overtake you and the streams of tears that flow over the apples of your cheeks. You are truly a sight to see, flushed red and glowing with the aftermath of yet another ferocious orgasm. Your sensitivity once again shocks him into silence. He didn’t even need to touch your clit for you to climax.
His stiff member bobs like a flagpole in the wind as he takes you in. It’s so hard that it stands straight up against his abdomen, jumping with its own pulse. When you open your eyes it is the first thing you see, and your body heats up again.
“Can you take any more, my love?” Jimin questions with concern, tracing his hands up your waist soothingly.
“Always. I can always take more of you.” Despite the screaming in your limbs, you sit up abruptly and pull him down to the bed, rolling the two of you over as you lock lips. Jimin seems surprised but not opposed to the shift in power dynamics, sensing that you want to take the reins for now. Your fingers wrap around his base and line him up with your slit, showing not even a moment’s hesitation before dropping down and knocking the wind out of both of you.
“You do not have to-“
“No, Jimin, I want to. I am supposed to be treating you after all, let me make you feel good.”
Fuck, you’re hot. Not only do you look amazing on top of him, but your pussy feels much hotter than usual. And it’s so tight, as if it’s greedy for every inch of him and eager to suck out his release. He won’t last long like this, that is for certain. His hands support you as you shift into a squat above him— and maybe it’s the novelty of the position, but he swears it’s never felt this good before.
“I imagined this so many times, but I never thought I’d actually get to see you riding me like this.” He confesses in a strained breath. You press your palms into his chest to lift yourself up, lowering yourself experimentally before repeating the action with less restraint.
“Am I living up to your expectations?” It could just be the angle, but his cock feels unbelievably deep inside you, and you half expect it to hurt yet you feel no pain. There is not even the slightest bit of discomfort as he nudges at your womb and you attribute this to the three incredible orgasms you have already reached tonight.
“God, yes.” He can’t look away from where you impale yourself on him, your shaky legs spread wide to let him see every second of the erotic display. From the way you grip him every time you lift up, to the strings of your arousal and cum that weave a sticky web between your ass and his pelvis, and even to the way your clit swallows in delight, he almost goes lightheaded as he takes it all in. His throat bobs as he gulps, back arching off the sheets under your warm hands.
“Faster?”
You don’t wait for a response before you start speeding up. He’s close, you can feel it in the way he swells against your walls and see it in the way his neck and chest color that pretty pink color you adore so much. Your limbs are aching for relief and it takes all of your remaining energy to keep up your efforts, but you wouldn’t dream of stopping. No, you are determined to bring Jimin to his end no matter what. The high pitched moans he lets out for your ears only are more than enough motivation to keep going, but you are working for a prize much more valuable that the lovely sounds he makes for you. You want his cum. You want it so badly that it is the only thing you can think of, so despite the pain in your fragile legs as you bounce yourself as hard and fast as you can, you continue for him. You’ve never been afraid to put in a little effort, and this is something you are willing to work for.
“(Y/n), I’m gonna cum!” Jimin’s dialect shines through strongly as he grits his teeth through the pleasure you bombard him with. You know it must feel different for him, the pleasure is always so much more intense when you aren’t the one doing all the work, and this is the first time you’ve pinned him down like this. It’s the first time you’ve dropped yourself down to clamp your knees on either side of him and wrap yourself around his upper body as you pant into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses and coaxing him toward his high with whispered words. Now that the roles are reversed, you can see just how wrecked he is for you— the usually composed king now lies spread in a heap of matted hair, sweaty skin, and bitten lips, completely speechless and grasping onto your thighs in a desperate bid to hold onto his sanity. “Please, I- I-“
“Cum for me, My King,” You are sure your body has just about reached its limit, but you feel no pain or fatigue when you look into your lover’s eyes and find an unraveled man. “I promised I would take your cum and let you get me pregnant. Give it all to me, my love, I want it. Cum inside me, Jimin.”
Bucking his hips, Jimin loses all control and throws his head back in anticipation as he aids your movements with his strong arms. When he feels your lips on his chin, he leans forward and allows you to swallow his groans of pleasure, both of you starved for breath but unwilling to pull away from the kiss. Everything you have done for him tonight— wearing sexy lingerie, getting on your knees to please him, squirting not once but twice— culminates into this one moment and he doesn’t think he can take take it. It’s all too much. With three sharp thrusts from both of you, he climaxes with a shout, lifting you up along with him as his hips rise off the bed.
“Oh fuck!” Maybe you shouldn’t feel this way, but you giggle giddily at the state of rapture he’s in because of you. The veins in his neck pop out of his skin as he dumps spurt after spurt of his semen into you, and you think this is the biggest load he’s ever given you. It takes a long time for him to come down from his high and for a moment you wonder if he will be okay with the way he twitches and shivers as your hips roll to a stop.
He doesn’t seem to mind your weight resting on top of him, nor does he react to the light kisses you press to his drenched skin. He does, however, wrap his arms securely around you when you shift to roll off of him, holding you on top of his body until you both have caught your breath and can open your heavy eyelids enough to look at each other with tired smiles.
“I love you.” You grin, running your digits through his disheveled mop of hair.
“I love you more, My Queen.” He pulls you down for another kiss to silence whatever rebuttal you surely have prepared at the tip of your tongue because he knows what you will say. And the thought makes his heart swell.
It seems like hours pass before both of you can work up the strength to part from each other. You have to be carried to the bathroom because your limbs feel far too weak and Jimin is not yet willing to let you go from his embrace. He is mindful of the puddle that you left on the floor as he carries you to the bath, and both of you sink into the depths together to wash away all your sins. You stay like that until your toes are pruned and the water is slightly cooler than lukewarm, the time flying by as you talk freely about everything you can think of: your hopes for your future family, your day with Jackson and Lena, gossip about Lilian and her whereabouts— she has not yet returned to the lodge even at this late hour and you hope that she is safe, but more importantly, you hope that her night with that handsome male servant ends similarly to yours. She could afford to take tonight and tomorrow off to unwind a bit, you feel a tad guilty that her needs may be neglected in the kingdom as she tends to you nonstop in the castle. Sleep finds you both easily and you cannot drop the smile from your cheeks as you cuddle up with the man you love.
This afternoon would have been perfect if not for the way you were feeling. Sparse clouds float through the sunny blue sky, the mountains surrounding you blossoming with vibrancy, but the beautiful scenery is dulled in your bleary eyesight. The lightheadedness you’d felt upon arrival two days ago has returned, along with a pounding headache that dampens your mood.
Jimin and Jackson walk ahead of their queens, talking casually as though they had been friends for years. The sight makes your heart grow warm and you use it to distract you from your discomfort as you walk along the outside pathways to a different section of the enormous castle. Lena notices the shift in your demeanor fairly quickly, commenting that you look less energized than yesterday.
“Did you not sleep well last night?” She implores, her brow creased with worry.
“I had a very restful sleep last night, but it feels like my body is dragging behind.” You try to keep yourself from rubbing at your face. Royals are not supposed to show weakness and vulnerability in public, and even though you are only surrounded by Kyungsoo and a few of Lena’s servants, you wish to uphold your appearances. “I do not feel sick, however, so I do not think it is caused by illness.”
“Would there be any other reason for you to feel fatigued? We did spend quite a considerable amount of time in the heat yesterday.”
“Well,” The guards and servants lag behind you far enough for them not to hear your conversation, but you still lower your voice in modesty. “Jimin and I were intimate late into the evening...” You figure your late night activities are also the reason for the tenderness you feel in your breasts, your tight undergarments causing slight pain as they bind your chest.
“Ah, I see!” She beams back at you, giggling. “You were not used to such strenuous exercise. I have experience with that— one time Jackson kept me in bed for so long that I nearly fainted from dehydration! Jimin seems like he would have a lot of stamina, be careful with that one.” The wiggle of her eyebrows lifts your spirits a bit. Speaking of such lewd subjects is seen as unladylike, especially for royalty, but you find yourself uncaring of that when you are with Lena. You have never had a woman of your same age and status to converse with before, no one could ever relate or felt comfortable enough to speak freely with you. This closeness you have with her is a novel feeling— and it is likely that Jimin feels the same with Jackson.
“I’ll be sure to be mindful of that.” You smile, staring at the back of his head. Your husband turns to look at you when he feels your eyes as he passively listens to the other King recall a story, sending a wink your way before returning his attention to the man beside him.
“Is there any other possible explanation for your symptoms?” Redirecting your gaze to Lena, you catch how her eyes flicker down to your stomach, a small smile on her lips. As soon as you realize her meaning, you stiffen, legs nearly bringing you to a halt.
“No,” Your eyes fall to the ground. “I... do not think it is pregnancy. Before I departed from home I was examined by my doctor and she-“ You sigh. “I am not pregnant.”
“Hmm. Well, I have been pregnant 4 times and have experienced many symptoms with each of my children. What you described to me sounds familiar. Do not dismiss the idea just yet, (Y/n).”
Before you can even open your mouth to form a reply, you are hit with a wave of dizziness that makes the world spin. Kyungsoo is by your side in an instant, stabilizing you as someone asks if you are alright. You are led to a nearby bench where all of the servants crowd around you, Jimin rushing over when he hears the commotion.
“(Y/n)?! What’s the matter?” The world spins a little less when your eyes are closed, so you do not look up at him, but you can imagine the almost sickly worry covering his lovely face. You know he has been especially traumatized by the events of your wedding and you never want to put him in a situation like that again, but you can’t help the way your body feels. Distantly, you hear Jackson order a servant to get the doctor, footsteps skittering away as he comes to squat down in front of you.
“Are you ill?” Jackson’s voice calms the anxiety you weren’t aware you were feeling. It is frightening not knowing what’s going on with your own body. Lena’s words ring in your mind.
“N-no, it is just the altitude. I just need to rest for a minute.” Your excuse is almost convincing, but no one moves— except for Jimin, who moves closer to you on the bench to support your back. After a few minutes, your head begins to clear, though your vision remains blurry. Eyes silently peer at you from all sides and you can feel them hot on your skin, embarrassment now the prominent emotion you feel. “Please do not worry about me, I am fine, really.”
“Are you certain? We can rest here for a little while longer.” Jimin suggests gently, but for some reason this irritates you.
“I said I’m fine.” You snap, earning an even more concerned look from him. Just then, the doctor approaches, slightly out of breath and sweating. “I don’t need a doctor! I’m feeling better already. Look.” You no longer feel dizzy anymore so you attempt to stand, rising quickly from the seat to come face to face with Jackson as he rises as well. Jimin still has his arm around you, both men watching you closely. “See?” But as soon as you’re stable on your feet, the spinning returns as if on cue and you come toppling forward into Jackson’s arms, everything going black.
“You don’t need to do this, Jackson, I told you I feel okay now.” You grumble as he carries you to the infirmary inside the castle. He took you into his arms without hesitation when you fell, offering to carry you because Jimin was rapidly descending into distress. While you were only out for about 2 minutes before you regained consciousness, everyone had reacted as if you were dying.
Looking at your husband now, you can see how unnerved he has become. Because he is a General who has seen many battles, he has trained himself not to react emotionally in stressful situations— but you can read the look in his eyes as clear as day as he walks alongside you, watching you more closely than what is in front of him.
“That is what you said earlier, and then you fainted immediately afterwards. Do not worry, I don’t mind carrying you. I needed a little exercise today anyway.” Always a jokester, you crack a smile at his comment, rolling your eyes as the doctor leads him into a room to rest you on the bed. The doctor works quickly, taking a blood sample from you and leaving for the lab, having already taken your vitals when you initially passed out. “We’ll be waiting outside.” With that, Jackson takes Lena’s shaky hand and exits the room, leaving you in bed and Jimin hovering over you awkwardly.
“Please sit down, you are making me nervous.” You breathe. He blinks and nods absently, perching himself on the edge of the bed next to you. “Are you okay?”
“I should be asking you that.” He laughs dryly. Jimin bites his lip when you give him a sympathetic gaze and take his hand. Your words from the argument you had nearly a month ago echo in his head. This is a chance for him to open up to you about his emotions and seek your comfort, your expression shows that you are expecting it of him, so he takes a deep breath. There’s no use hiding his emotions from you. “Truth be told, I am a wreck. You fainting brought back some rather unpleasant memories.” He confesses.
“I’m sorry.” You really are apologetic, stressing him out is the last thing you ever wanted to do.
“It is not your fault. I just worry about you so much. I cannot bear to lose you, my love, and I feel so helpless when things like this happen, it feels like I always have to wait for others to come to rescue you.”
“Would you like to become a doctor so you are more prepared, then?” He wasn’t expecting that response and snaps his head up to look at you when you laugh. “You cannot control everything that happens to me, Jimin. It is okay to let others help. All I need is for you to stay by my side, your presence is more than enough.” He nods at this, accepting the kiss you plant on his cheek and squeezing your hands.
Long seconds of silence pass as you wait for the doctor to return. Then, a sudden thought pops into your mind that makes you groan aloud.
“Lilian is going to be pissed at me.” You can’t help but chuckle at the circumstances.
“Why is that?”
“I told her to take off today and enjoy her time here, but she was worried about me so she initially refused. I assured her of my health this morning before we left. I can only imagine to look on her face once she finds out what happened.” You do feel a bit bad, Lilian knows you better than anyone and it is clear that she could tell something was off, but you convinced her that her instincts were wrong and now you find yourself in the infirmary. She will surely put herself down over this incident because of her absence when you most needed her.
“You can worry about her after we confirm that you are okay. For now, let us focus on this.” Just then, the doctor enters the room again, coming to stand at the bottom of the bed as you and Jimin look up at them with expectant eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest. You’ve become so used to hearing bad news from doctors, you are almost conditioned to be nervous and guarded around them.
“(Y/n), I have determined the cause of your sudden collapse.” Jimin squeezes your hand tighter and you can feel the sweat on his fingertips. “It appears that you are pregnant! Congratulations! The blood tests showed high levels of-“
“Pardon?” You interject with a raspy voice. Your brain is having a hard time processing the words and you blink slowly for a few seconds, unaware of Jimin’s shell shocked expression. “I- H-how can this be? My physician tested me right before I left and she said I was not pregnant.”
“Well, it is entirely possible to get false negative results, especially when it is early in the pregnancy. I don’t think it reflects poorly on your physician, these things just happen sometimes and are completely out of our control. But looking at my test results and the symptoms you have been experiencing, I am certain that you are about 6 weeks pregnant.”
“B-but I bled last month.”
“For how many days?”
“One or two...”
“Then that was likely implantation bleeding, which is to be expected. Dizziness and even fainting are also fairly common symptoms, so there is no particular need to worry about today’s incident— though I recommend that you make sure to get adequate rest and nutrition to avoid complications in the future. Once again, congratulations.”
Finally, you drag your gaze over to your husband who has been silent since the doctor appeared, and his eyes are filled to the brim with tears when they connect with yours.
“You- (Y/n), you’re finally pregnant!” He whispers, and the way his voice cracks causes the dam to break within yourself and all of your emotions come flooding out. Before you know it you’re wrapped in his embrace, both of you simultaneously sobbing and laughing into each other’s necks from pure joy and surprise as the doctor excuses themselves from the room. It is like all of the building frustration from the past several months has been crushing you slowly and now that weight has been lifted, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time. Jimin feels similarly. He has been holding back so many of his emotions since you first started trying to get pregnant and that has taken a tremendous toll on his mind and body, but for the first time, he can finally release those emotions and let himself feel the heaviness of it all. He is crying harder than you are, soaking the top of your dress as you cradle his head to you and hold him there. His hands ghost over your waist and lower abdomen so delicately, as if protecting the growing life inside of you.
When you’ve both gotten yourselves together enough to allow Jackson and Lena to visit, they rush in without hesitation.
“Is everything okay?” Lena is by your side first, immediately noticing your red and puffy eyes. You’re a little bit hesitant to tell her because you know she’ll gloat about her “sixth sense”.
“Yes, I’m alright. We just found out that I am pregnant.” The room erupts into noise, the two of them sounding like an entire circus as Jackson nearly jumps on Jimin in a bear hug and Lena squeals excitedly beside you.
“I knew it! You dismissed me so offhandedly and it turns out that I was right! I have a sixth sense for these things, you know; you should trust me more often.” Just as expected.
“And here you were, just telling me how worried you were about not yet yielding an heir to the throne,” Jackson throws a heavy arm over Jimin’s shoulder. “I suppose we should celebrate before you depart in the morning. I will throw a lovely ball tonight in your honor!”
“Oh, I must oversee the preparations then! Get some rest, (Y/n), and congratulations again!” And just like that, the couple is gone, rushing back out of the room and leaving you and your husband giggling.
“I am sorry, Lilian.” You apologize for what feels like the thousandth time. She continues to pout as she helps load your belongings into the carriage, barely sparing you a glance.
“I knew I should have stayed; I had a feeling something would happen.” She turns to scowl, not necessarily at you but it is in your direction. “I cannot believe I missed such a huge announcement as well! Both Jackson and Lena found out before me, this is so unfair.”
“You sound like a child,” You snicker, taking Kyungsoo’s hand as he helps you into the carriage behind Jimin.
“Yes, well I think I am allowed to throw a tantrum just this once.” You catch Kyungsoo crack a grin at her, the first time you’ve seen any emotion from him, and it brings a smile to your own face.
“If it makes you feel any better, Kyungsoo found out after Jackson and Lena, too.” Jimin comments, taking your hand and pulling you into his side.
“It does not make me feel better because he still found out before me!”
The sun is still low in the sky but slowly rises as you depart from the kingdom. Once you return to the castle, there are many duties that you must take care of, and many traditional processes you will have to go through now that you are pregnant— you are carrying a possible future heir to the throne after all. But you have never been happier. For now it still feels surreal, even though you have waited nearly a year for this moment, but as soon as the people of your kingdom come to greet you and celebrate the news of your conception, the reality of the situation will hit and you are sure you will be overwhelmed with new challenges. Pregnancy is not an easy thing, but at least you will have Jimin with you to help you through it all, just as he has always done. You rest your head on his shoulder with a mischievous grin.
“So Lilian, how was your date the other night? You seemed rather cozy with that young man at the ball yesterday evening.”
“It was not a date!”
#tyfys#jimin smut#ksmutclub#btscreatorscorner#clubjimin#ficswithluv#Jimin angst#jimin fluff#bts royal au#purplearmynet
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Warmth
Zenitsu Agatsuma x Reader
A/N: this is entirely self-indulgent 😂 I love him so much and I get cold rly easily myself so I couldn’t help myself 😌
Pairing: Zenitsu Agatsuma x Reader
Warnings: None rly!
Words: 1900
The blizzard winds howled as the sky powdered the earth with little white flakes of frost, chilling you to the bone. Your hands tightly gripped your arms as you cross them over your shivering frame, trying to hold in whatever body heat you had left. Walking beside you was your comrade and best friend Zenitsu, the two of you had been sent on a mission to a village high in the mountains. His teeth chattered as he too wrapped his arms around himself to keep himself warm however he could. The coats the two of you had brought gave you a bit of warmth but did little to block out the piercing cold of the icy storm. You were always one to get cold easily, so the situation you had found yourself in was hell, seeing as you were absolutely positive there was going to be no way you’d be able to get any sort of warmth on this journey.
“Th-this sucks! We’re going to freeze to death out here!” He whined, a panicked undertone to his words. You half agreed internally, yet kept your thought to yourself as you attempted to respond in a way that would calm his worries, “I think we should find shelter and wait out the blizzard!” Having to raise your voice to be heard above the storm, your throat stung from the cold air you were sure was in the negative temperatures. You received only an eager nod in response, turning your gaze to scan the area around you for any semblance of a shelter. Your eyes landed on what looked to be a sort of cave in the side of the mountain you were ascending, pointing towards it with hope, “There! Come on Zenitsu let’s hurry!” You grabbed his hand to tug him towards the cave causing him to blink in surprise and pushed down the pink that dusted his cheeks to focus on following you.
Shuffling hurriedly through the deep snow, the two of you stepped through the mouth of the cave, pushing forward to the back wall to put distance between you and the blizzard. Your breath puffed in clouds but the lack of strong winds and falling snow was a welcome change.
After catching your breath you decided to build a fire using the sticks you had packed in your bag. “You brought firewood with you?” Zenitsu broke the silence with a curious tone.
“Well, yea. I knew we wouldn’t make it to the village in one day, and it’s on a snowy mountain,” you stated in a matter-of-fact way, “I decided to play it safe and bring some stuff with me in case anything were to happen. And lo-and-behold!” Ending with a slight smile, you struck sparks onto the patch of kindling, gently blowing on the small flames to help them grow. Placing the kindling under the firewood and making sure they stayed lit, you sat back with crossed legs and moved your bag to the side to give yourself room, all the while honey-colored eyes watched your every move subconsciously. As you shivered and warmed your hands against the flame you felt his gaze and looked up to match it, casting him a smile that warmed his cheeks. He looked away bashfully as he too and held up his hands to the fire, not a sound between the two of you other than the howling winds and crackling firewood. The silence between the two demon slayers left Zenitsu to his thoughts, all of which seemed to wander to (Y/N). The way your contagious smile could brighten his mood to matter what, the way your angelic laugh made his heart squeeze, the way you never ran out of patience for the boy and his antics, the way kindness seemed to drip from your very being; everything about you was absolutely infatuating to him.
“Zenitsu?” The boy was dragged out of his thoughts by your call, concern lacing your tone.
“Y-yes?”
A soft sigh made its way past your lips, which curved upwards in a gentle manner, never once losing your seemingly endless patience. “I said I’m going to try to get some rest, silly. Are you okay?” (Y/N) leaned forward and put the back on their hand on their partner’s forehead, “You feel a bit warm, did you catch a cold?”
The blonde-haired boy gasped and quickly leaned backwards, his blush deepening to a cherry-red and his hands shooting up to frantically wave off your concern, “N-No! I’m fine, really!! You don’t have to worry, just get some rest!”
A small chuckle escaped you and you leaned back as you agreed and unpacked your belongings for the night. With your futon rolled out and bedding set up you turned to Zenitsu whose face was still basically steaming as he stared intently at his hands still being warmed, “Hey Zenitsu,” you called out hesitantly, “Can... Um, c-can you turn around for a bit please? I want to change into my yukata so I can sleep.”
“Oh! Y-yea! Of course!” Whipping around to face the rock wall, he desperately tried to focus on anything but the sound of fabric falling to the ground as you undressed. Slipping on the sleepwear, you turned around to let him know you were done. “I’m done now, Zenitsu. Thank you!” Mumbling a response he turned back around to face the only source of heat in the hollow as you crawled under the covers of your bed. Before you could close your eyes, you realized something that made you sit up and stare at the boy sitting across from you with furrowed brows, earning a confused look from him.
“Hey, Zenitsu, did you bring your futon?” You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, and eventually, with a stroke of horror he realized he hadn’t brought it with him and let out a scream, his hands gripping his head and tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
“I didn’t!! I thought we would’ve gotten to the village by now so I didn’t think I’d need to!! I’m going to freeze to death out here! I’m going to freeze to death and it’s all my fault!”
“Sleep with me.”
His frantic cries stopped as your words processed through his brain. Immediately a blush so bright it was nearly glowing flushed over his face, ears and neck as you too blush at your misconstrued statement, “N-not like that of course! I just thought, well, since I’m the only one who brought a mattress and I don’t want you to freeze... You could sleep next to me..? There’s enough room...” Your voice trailed off near the end of your sentence, muttering under your breath, but Zenitsu heard. He heard every word, and with every word he grew impossibly redder and his heart rate sped up.
“You don’t have to right now, think about it for a while if you need to.” Your restful tone and tender smile certainly wasn’t helping the boy calm down.
‘Sleep!? With (Y/N)!? They’re okay with that!?’ he thought to himself, ‘They actually care about me enough to do that?’ Of course he knew that you cared about him, but he had his doubts and insecurities that he struggled with. The fact that you had been so willingly open about being concerned for his wellbeing threw the butterflies in his stomach into a fit. Removing his shoes and belt that carried his katana as quietly as possible, he decided that he’d rather nearly have a heart attack lying next to his crush than freeze to death as he padded across the cold cave floor. Gulping, he crouched next to your sleeping form, your back facing him. Swallowing his anxiety and embarrassment, he silently slid into bed next to you covering himself with the blanket while making sure you had more than enough for yourself. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment while he struggled to calm his racing pulse but quickly snapped open as he heard the one next to him shift around to face him. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, but somehow you were even more beautiful in the warm light cast on your features from the still burning fire that burned behind him.
You smiled sweetly, “Thank you Zen, I was worried about you.”
The nickname you had given him made his heart flutter, ‘I should be the one thanking you,’ before he could respond you shivered and pulled the blankets draped over you closer, attempting to draw in the small amount of heat your body had created. Getting cold easily was already annoying to deal with, but being stranded in a cave with a raging blizzard outside really looks you in the eye and gives you a big ‘Fuck You.’ Even though you had started a fire and were swamped in the blanket you had brought with you, you still struggled to generate enough body heat to keep yourself warm.
He frowned, seeing you unhappy and shivering cold made him hurt, he had to think of a way to help. Taking a deep breath to steady himself he shakily drew you into his arms, swathing you in his haori and the blankets. You gasped as your face heated and your heart skipped a beat, “Zenitsu?” you questioned. “Y-you were cold and you offered to share this bed with me and s-so I wanted to keep you warm!” You could see the nervousness behind his golden eyes and couldn’t help your lips curving upward, he was too cute for his own good. The smile was sweet and held an expression he couldn’t quite decipher, “Thank you,” you whispered in a tone that dripped of affection.
“Of course... I hope I’m not making you uncomfortable. I-If I am I can move-” you cut him off by snuggling closer into his chest and giving a soft sigh, finding comfort in his scent, “Can we stay like this?” you spoke timidly, your voice barely above a whisper. He froze, if his hearing weren’t so great he would swear he misunderstood. You want to stay cuddling with Him? Of course it’s not like he would turn down the request, he would stay like this with you in his arms forever if he could. It was simply the fact that You, (Y/N), the most incredible, beautiful, kind, and lovely person he had ever met, enjoyed laying in his arms breathing in his scent.
“Yea...” his tone grew faint, “Yea we can stay like this,” finally answering, his pounding heart slowing ever so slightly as he relaxed. It was as though you were made for him, your frame fit so perfectly in his arms. His haori was just the right size to hold you in. This moment was just so perfect. You were so perfect.
“Hey Zen?” You broke the comfortable silence briefly, mumbling sleepy words. “Yes, (Y/N)?” he replied meekly. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Zenitsu smiled and looked down at you laying against his chest to reply only for his heart to swell with warmth as he found you fast asleep curled into him. Instead of replying, he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead and snuggled closer, closing his eyes.
Suddenly the storm outside didn’t seem cold anymore.
#was this self indulgent?#yes.#do i regret it?#no!#i love this boy too much#demon slayer x reader#kny x reader#zenitsu x reader#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#zenitsu agatsuma#reader insert#constructive critism welcome#my words
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baby, it’s cold outside
summary: a snowstorm would put a damper on most people’s vacations. but you, pride, and gibbs find a way to make the most of it.
words: 9,122
warnings: smut, PWP, female reader, light cumplay, slight OOC
tags: @stanathanxoox @pageofultron @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @6adb0y @thegoodlonelydalek @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @starryrevelations @thebeckyjolene
author’s note: it’s finally here!! thank you all for your patience and support while i finished this monster of a fic, and i really hope it lives up to the hype
Red and orange flames, small as they were, flickered from the charred remains of the fire that Gibbs had started upon arrival. And you were sitting as close to the fireplace as you could, without the risk of going up in flames. The heat it provided was a necessity to the frigid cold in the rest of the cabin.
Even the cup of coffee gripped in your hands, which had once been a lifesaver, was starting to lose its heat.
It was difficult to believe that, just last week, you and Pride were excited for this vacation. Coming up to Virginia for a weekend of solitude in the woods. Three old friends enjoying each other’s company; reflecting on old times and taking the much needed time away from the stress of work. It’s been much too long since the three of you have had actual time together.
That was before a snowstorm rolled in the night before. Froze up half the state.
You set the coffee mug aside, blowing into your numb fingers. Just as you were starting to mentally complain about the lack of a good fire, the door to Jethro’s cabin was kicked open. He and Dwayne stumble inside, snow clinging to their clothes, arms full of wood. The wind is loud and bitterly cold and blows in a fresh icy breeze before Pride kicks the door shut behind him, and both men drop their loads by the door.
Though, you were keenly aware that the firewood they’d collected wouldn’t last long. Not with how cold it is. “That’s all you got?” You ask them, eyeing the logs before looking to Gibbs.
“Snow started coming sooner than we thought. We’ll just have to make it last,” he answers simply while toeing off his soaked boots.
“Will it be enough?”
“Hopefully.”
Hopefully?
You huff at his answer, but your attention wavers away from Gibbs picking out the driest logs of the bunch to look at Pride, who had plopped down next to you by the fire. He scoots closer to the last lickings of the flames, hands reaching out in hopes of warming them up. And it occurs to you that the man has lived in Louisiana his entire life. He’s traded swamps for snow, and the weather must be killing him.
So you move a little closer until your shoulder nudges his. And when Pride glances over, you offer a little smirk. “You okay?”
He lets out a shivery exhale, mimicking your smile. “Cold,” Dwayne answers simply. His shaky voice proves that.
There’s still snowflakes clinging to his hair, which you reach up and brush away before motioning toward the bathroom. “You might wanna change into something drier. You’ll catch your death.”
Dwayne’s reluctant to leave the warmth of the fire, but he knows you’re right. He can feel his clothes sticking to his numb skin, further sapping away his own body heat. So, with another shivering sigh, Pride stands, grabs his bag, and quickly enters the bathroom to change.
You turn back to the flickering flames in the fireplace - happy, at least, that the two men were able to bring back some amount of wood for the duration of the snowstorm. In the silence, you can heard the wind pick up outside. It’ll probably get stronger. The walls of the cabin may creak, and you’ll be wishing you were somewhere much warmer.
A tap on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. Glancing up, you meet eyes with Gibbs, who’s handing you a mug. That’s when you show him yours. “I got coffee,” you tell him. And you leave out the fact that it’s lukewarm.
“It’s not coffee.”
He gives no other explanation, only motions the mug closer until curiosity prompts you to take it. The contents are hard to make out in the lowlight, so taking a sip is the only way to find out what it is. The taste of the mystery liquid burns and you didn’t expect just how strong it’ll be; strong enough to make you gag and glance over your shoulder to Gibbs as he chuckles and takes a seat beside you. “What the hell is this?”
“Whiskey,” he answers simply. “Found it in the cupboard. It’ll help keep you warm.”
Gibbs takes a sip from his own mug, and there’s no hint that the strong whiskey affects him in any way. So you scoff. “I got my coffee. And the fire,” you tell him. Though, his eyes don’t leave the orange light. Gibbs simply shrugs, and you end up taking another sip of the whiskey.
Pride comes out of the bathroom moments later, looking much more comfortable in a dry pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He thanks Gibbs when the Marine hands him a mug and, like you, Pride’s nose wrinkles harshly when he gets a taste of the whiskey. The sight makes you smirk before turning back to the fire.
A comfortable silence settles between the three of you. All huddled around the fire, quietly sipping at the harsh liquor and listening to the groan of the wind outside. It reminds you why you’d been so excited to take this trip; the moment reminds you of old times. Sure, you’re all older now. More worn out. Been through hell and back so many times and it’s left you all scarred. But this was like better times, and the sentiment of it all brings a soft smile to your face.
It takes Pride all but a few seconds to notice, and his eyes narrow curiously. “What’chu smilin’ at?” He asks, voice much more lively than it was just minutes ago.
You shrug at him, both hands clutching the whiskey mug tightly. “Nothing. I’m just glad we’re here. Even if we’re snowed in and facing hypothermia.” you answer, playful eyes glancing over when both men start laughing.
Then the night devolves into nostalgia. Bringing up old cases and old memories that haven’t seen the light of day in years.
Remembering Pride’s first winter in Virginia - when he fell into a snowbank and had a cold for damn near two weeks.
Remembering when Gibbs had a pistol leveled at his crotch by a very angry woman because she didn’t appreciate his little joke about blondes.
Despite the nip in the air, Gibbs was right; the whiskey was warming you right up. Made your face blush to chase away the numbness of your nose. Plus, it made your head light in a way that had the three of you laughing your asses off. Even Gibbs had a dopey grin on his face.
Time passed damn quickly. It was Pride who settled down first; his face squished against his pillows, which thankfully muffled his soft snores. And you follow not long after, sighing once you hit the middle bedroll. Gibbs was the last to go, after throwing in another log so the fire doesn’t go out while you slept.
The three of you had decided to sleep close together, by the fire. Straying too far would mean waking up shivering, and the warm glowing light was too good to leave. Still, even on your bedroll with two grown men sleeping on either side, it’s pretty chilly. You have to pull the blankets up to your chin and curl up into yourself, wondering how you’ll get to sleep when it’s so cold. But eventually, it’s the whiskey that puts you to sleep.
Along with the snores of the men beside you.
-
The next time you open your eyes, it’s considerably darker.
But that was only the second thing you noticed. The first was the fierce, bone-chilling cold that cut right through your blanket. You wouldn’t have been surprised if the frigid air is what pulled you from your slumber. Instantly, you let out a shaky exhale, breathing into your fingers so they weren’t so numb.
Your warm breath alleviates the numbness for just a moment, but it gives you a chance to focus on the sounds bouncing off the wooden walls of the cabin. Shuffling around and frantic whispers. Whispers that you recognize as belonging to your old friends - Pride and Gibbs were awake, as well. And it sounds like they’ve been for a while; Gibbs’ hushed voice rises a little in frustration, while Pride’s stays low. Shushing him before he can wake you.
Despite the little warmth that the blanket provides, you pull your face away from the shelter. It’s propped up on the pillow, squinting through the darkness toward the hushed whispers. And you quickly find out why Gibbs sounds so frustrated; the fire had gone out during the night. Burned right through the wood he set in there and left faint embers behind.
Gibbs and Pride were trying to cultivate those embers with more wood. Trying to grow a new fire to chase away the cold, but it doesn’t seem like they’re succeeding.
With a huff, Gibbs tosses his old lighter on the floor and glances to your bedroll. Likely to check if you’re still asleep, but he sees your groggy eyes blink at him questioningly. He huffs again. “Yeah, I know it’s cold. We’re getting the fire started up again.”
Pride’s head whips up, blinking to Gibbs before noticing you’re awake. Even in the dark, you can see his hands clenching and unclenching. And it reminds you of your own numbed extremities. “Well, hurry up. I can’t feel my hands,” you respond, sinking back into the warmer shelter of your blanket.
Gibbs just grumbles something, but he remains by the fireplace while Pride returns to his bedroll next to yours. With him much closer, you can see his breath lightly billowing, reflecting the pale moonlight. It was fucking cold. “Hey,” he greets lightly.
“Hey.”
He’s quiet for just a moment, sitting on his bedroll before shrugging his broad shoulders. “Ya know, until the fire’s back up, you outta use my blanket,” Pride says. And just as the sentence ends, he’s tugging the fleece cover from his bed to yours.
It covers your legs, and honestly, the thought of having an extra layer was tempting.
But not tempting enough to fall back asleep to the thought of Dwayne freezing his ass off in a dark cabin. Despite the chill in the air, you sit up and toss his blanket back at him. “No, you need it,” you tell him firmly.
Dwayne tries to give it back. “Oh, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not stealing your blanket, Dwayne.”
“It ain’t stealing if I’m handing it over.”
“Quit it. We’ll all need our blankets,” Gibbs cuts in. And when the two of you look over, the Marine is moving back to his bed. There’s a small fire going, thankfully. But not enough to give off any real warmth or light. “It’ll still be a little while until the fire’s back up.”
He’s moving back under his covers, seemingly unaffected by the bitter cold, but you can also see his breath. Notice how his nose and cheeks are just a little more pink than usual. And beside you, Dwayne shudders and exhales into his numbed fingers. It prompts an idea - perhaps a little silly, but damn better than freezing all by yourself. “We should share blankets,” you blurt out.
From his bedroll, Gibbs turns his head and squints at you. “What?”
“We’d be warmer. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to try to fall asleep when I’m shivering cold.”
“I agree,” Pride chimes in. Though, judging by the shudder in his voice, he’d be down for just about anything that would provide some warmth. “Sharin’ body heat and all that.”
Gibbs doesn’t reply. You barely make out his expression, with only the faint moon and firelight to see him by. But he must be thinking it over, so you just have to nudge him a bit more. “What? Afraid to share blankets with two of your oldest friends?” You ask him teasingly. Then you glance back to Pride, whose eyes are crinkled with amusement.
The teasing worked, evidently. Gibbs breaks his silence with a cross huff, disbelieving that you got to him too easily. But, he concedes - you do know him pretty damn well.
He pushes his bedroll over until it connects with yours, and Dwayne does the same. And with that, the three of you maneuver the precious blankets until they’re spread out to cover each person. In the end, you’re basically all huddled in a big blanket pile, with Gibbs’ shoulder pressing against your spine and your knees touching Pride’s.
And yeah, at first, it’s a bit awkward. You’re facing Dwayne and the only way to quit the eye contact is to close your eyes and push your face into the pillow. And you’ve gotta be careful how you move, lest you press your ass back against Gibbs.
But despite the awkwardness, you’re already getting much warmer than you would’ve been sleeping alone. With the whiskey still swimming in your system, and the body heat of two grown men, you’re quickly growing groggy and heading back towards sleep. Though, Gibbs mumbles something from behind, low and deep, that makes you smile into the pillow:
“Something tells me you got the sweeter end of this deal.”
-
The next time you’re pulled from sleep, it’s not cold.
On the contrary, you’re almost hot.
Other than the snores of the two men beside you, the cabin is silent. The storm outside has calmed down, in comparison to earlier. But wind and ice still beat against the windows and makes you thankful for the warm glow of the fire.
But it doesn’t take you long at all to realize that it isn’t the fire that’s making you so damn hot. Yeah, you feel its heat, but it isn’t as all-encompassing as the big, solid body pressing against your back. The muscled arm around your waist keeps you close, and if it hadn’t been for the knowledge that your head is resting against Gibbs’ shoulder, you’d have to concentrate damn hard on which of the men was currently cuddling up to you.
Jethro’s earthy scent was all you could smell, but it was Dwayne’s strong heartbeat that you felt beating against your back.
Somehow, even while laying down, you felt a little lightheaded. Because it doesn’t take long for your body to tell you that this feels damn good.
You think about moving. Shuffling just out of Dwayne’s grasp, but with he and Gibbs so close, would you wake them? Could you even move? While you’re strategizing, Pride’s snores are interrupted by a soft sigh that billows your hair slightly. Then he hums, and his arm moves up from your hip, and the movement makes your head go blank. His hand is dangerously nestled under your chest.
To make matters worse, his body shifts to get more comfortable. It wouldn’t have even been so bad, but his hips roll just a little. Barely even noticeable, but through the intense heat and the blurred lines, you could feel something press against your ass. Half-hard. Trapped in denim.
Some small part of you was mortified. Embarrassed, because this was your close friend and if Pride were awake, he’d be blushing and apologizing as if this were all his fault and then Gibbs would find out, too.
But the deep, hot wave of arousal makes it difficult to care about the embarrassment. C’mon, this was Dwayne Pride. Broad-shouldered agent of The Big Easy. You’d have to be blind not to notice his handsome laugh lines or muscled body and not think about them from time to time over the years of your friendship.
Even still, he was a friend. That’s all he’s ever been.
So, carefully, you pull your legs up closer to your chest. Use your arms to drag your body just a couple inches away from Dwayne. Away from his heat and his body and the little noises he makes every time you move against him.
Away from him, and towards Gibbs.
You hadn’t even noticed how close you were getting to the Marine until he sighed in his sleep. The messy silver hair on his head reflects the orange firelight - turns it amber, but you barely notice because Gibbs smells like whiskey and lumber and it becomes painfully obvious you’re stuck between a handsome rock and a gorgeous hard place.
Gibbs almost pulls you in, as if he has his own gravity. But you’re able to shift back with an unsteady breath. What to do....what to do.....
The sleep and the last lickings of the whiskey has your mind running at a snail’s pace. Unable to just decide on a single course of action that doesn’t involve cuddling up to either Gibbs or Pride. But that option is taken away from you when Dwayne’s breathing starts picking up.
All your moving around must’ve woken him. The arm he has resting on your flank, unfortunately, doesn’t pull away. Only half-awake, evidently, but his hips do that light roll again. The gentle grin of his hips against your ass prompts a moan from Dwayne. Right in your fucking ear and the sound goes right between your legs and you almost can’t stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together because as fucked as this situation is, he sounds so good.
Though, that brief moment of arousal is over quickly. Because from behind, you feel Dwayne’s muscles twitch and tighten up. Hear his breath lodge in his throat, and you know he’s finally woken up enough to realize what’s going on.
Is he in shock? Is he mad that you didn’t do enough to separate the two of you?
The questions linger in your mind until curiosity forces your head to turn. Eyes carefully peering over your shoulder, and they instantly meet Pride’s wide, green, terrified gaze. Blurry with sleep, but still clear with understanding. “I, uh-” he mumbles out, voice hoarse and choked back. “Sorry.”
Simple. Straight-forward. Maybe if he pulls away now, the two of you can wake up in the morning and pretend this never happened.
His arm starts retreating. His body shifts so Dwayne can turn around and try to go back to sleep facing the other side of the cabin.
“Don’t be.”
That makes him freeze. Hand now settled on your hip and unmoving.
The seconds that pass during this time feel like minutes. Dwayne’s eyes blink once at your two surprising words. Confusion was the first emotion that flickered in his gaze before another one followed it. Something darker and hotter and you readily fall into the smoldering look in his eyes because it’s just so damn easy to.
You both are leaning toward each other in a heartbeat. Lips crashing together in a clumsy first kiss but neither of you care because it just feels good. Dwayne lets out a small noise in the back of his throat and you have to stop yourself from gasping against his lips. It’s hot and passionate and needy because your head is swimming in heat and, judging by the light rocks of his hips, Dwayne is damn horny.
His hand squeezes your hip, wanting to move it under the blanket and touch your warm, soft skin - and you want him to. Need to feel the calloused skin of his palm more than you’ve ever needed anything.
So you flipped on your back (carefully, to not wake Gibbs) and tangled your fingers in his hair to pull Dwayne in closer. The change in position is all the permission he needs; his hands all but fumble to push past the thick blanket until he finally just throws it off you to give himself the room.
Your hips arch upward. Legs spread just a little. Pride’s hand reaches the waistband of your jeans, and as he starts to unbuckle it, there’s a brief moment of clarity. Probably brought upon by the noise of Gibbs sighing in his sleep right next to you.
The sound makes you think about what’s to come. About Dwayne tugging your jeans down. Kissing you hard while fucking you with his fingers and making you cum...all while Gibbs is quite literally right there.
And it would have been a reality, if Dwayne were able to get your belt unbuckled.
His soft, frustrated swearing draws your attention away from the sleeping Marine. Dwayne’s attempts at undoing your belt with a single hand aren’t going so well, and despite the need, you find yourself laughing quietly.
He notices. “What the hell kinda belt is this?” Dwayne whispers loudly.
“The normal kind.”
“You sure? I can get the normal kind.”
His raspy, annoyed complaints keep the amused smile plastered on your face. And your fingers lightly comb through his hair. “Want some help?” You offer lowly.
Pride’s head shakes once. “Nah. I got it.”
“I’m not really in the mood for waiting, Dwayne.”
“Trust me, sweetheart, neither am I.”
“Can you two bozos be any louder?”‘
In an instant, Dwayne’s hand stops its attempts at opening your belt. A breath stuck itself in your throat, threatening to completely cut off your breathing but in that moment, you thought that might be preferable to facing Gibbs, like this.
Regardless, your eyes finally flicker sideways. Part of you was terrified of looking up and seeing disgust in the Marine’s gaze. But seeing his bleary eyes and wild bedhead did nothing to calm your nerves. Serves you right for thinking you’d be able to tell how Gibbs is feeling so easily.
Dwayne’s hand is instantly pulled away from your half-open belt, leaning back into his own bedroll as Gibbs slowly brings himself up to lean on his elbows. And you’re frozen there; laying on your back and watching as he looks down and seems to inspect you. The usual icy-blue of his eyes is much darker, despite the golden firelight. Narrowed and unreadable and so, so different than the open door of raw emotion that were Dwayne’s eyes.
Gibbs gives a small tilt of his head before glancing up to his old friend. And to your utter shock, he fucking smirks. The devious, mischievous little smirk that you’ve never trusted before in your life. “Nah, you need some help, King,” is the only thing he says. Voice hoarse and deep with sleep and sends an involuntary shiver down your spine.
You don’t see the perplexed, and defensive, look on Pride’s face.
Instead, your eyes are all focused on Gibbs and the hand that he brings to your belt. There’s ample time to move away or find the words to speak out, but you just stare at his hand. His big, muscled, scarred hand that reaches your belt and has it open in a fraction of the time that Dwayne did.
Beside you, Pride gives a light huff. But you can’t will yourself to look at him. Gibbs and his hand and his eyes are much too captivating, in the moment. They lock onto yours and keep the connection, even as Gibbs pops the button of your jeans, pulls the zipper, and simply lets his fingertips graze the skin below your navel.
In reaction, your hips shift upward. Not so much the raw, visceral arch of your hips that Dwayne elicited, but its enough of a sign that prompts Gibbs to know what you need from him.
He’s merciful. Gibbs pushes his fingers past the waistband of your jeans. Though, your underwear serves as a barrier between you and his fingers. Even still, the friction and the pressure is enough to make you whimper. To instantly clasp Pride’s arm because it’s the closest thing and if you didn’t hold onto something, you’d start grinding against his hand - and you didn’t want to give Gibbs that satisfaction.
But it gets so much harder to keep from keening up once he starts moving his hand up and down, even curling his fingers just a little. Teasing you. Making you want him and if that bastard knows how to do anything, it’s how to get under people’s skin.
Your fingernails dig into Pride’s arm when you finally whimper out Jethro’s name.
The small sound has Gibbs leaning in a little closer. Arousal flickers in his eyes, brighter than even the orange flames in the fireplace because it’s so raw and real and for you. “Are you sure?” Gibbs prompts lowly, his voice rough. “Seems like you wanted King just a minute ago.” At that, his eyes move up to his friend.
Pride had been motionless, admittedly frozen and not quite knowing what he should do. His cock is still hard and pressing against the zipper of his jeans; that much hasn’t changed. In fact, seeing you so desperate has only turned him on that much more.
But Gibbs and his words surprised him. He’s torn - there’s nothing he’d rather do than climb over you and continue where you’d left off. But if you decided you’d rather fuck Gibbs, then Dwayne will just have to accept that. He’s not sure how, but he’ll get over it.
Pride leans away, almost as if he’s trying to pull himself out of the picture. But the hand you have gripping his arm tightens to keep him from straying too far.
“Both. Both of you.”
You’re looking at him, now. Eyes half-open and hazy. Chest panting and hair all astray and looking damn gorgeous.
But even the picture you present doesn’t stop both men from looking shocked. They both were expecting you to choose one or the other, but both? A third option had never crossed their minds.
Had the circumstances been different, they might’ve thought a bit more logically about this. But neither man was so keen to ignore your breathy pleas. Pride was panting, too. And Gibbs felt that familiar stirring in the pit of his stomach that only got worse when your hips started moving in tandem with his fingers.
So even if Gibbs is the one with his hand down your pants, Pride is the first to truly act.
He’s leaning back in, resuming the hot kisses. But this time, you’re so much more hot and needy and wound up, you’re moaning into his mouth. Opening your lips to taste more of Dwayne while your thighs squeeze together, hoping to just selfishly ride Gibbs’ hand.
He has to pry your legs apart to pull his hand free
Your body instantly reacts to the loss of his touch, huffing into Dwayne’s mouth and wishing you could break the kiss to yell at him - even though Gibbs is currently tugging your trousers down your legs and throwing them off somewhere in the darkness of the cabin.
It’s fucking cold, even through the rush of heat that leaves you gasping.
Dwayne’s hand is equally cold when it ventures up your shirt.
But really, it’s the chill of Jethro’s fingers as they trail up your inner thigh that really makes you shiver.
Or maybe it’s not at all the cold that elicits the shiver. Maybe it’s the realization that this isn’t some fucked up dream you’re having. That Gibbs and Pride really are seeing and touching so much of you, and it’s overwhelming. They’re two of your oldest friends, and yet, it was scarily easy to forget all that for a little while and just revel in their attention.
Like when Dwayne finally pushes your shirt up, revealing your belly and breasts that seem to glow like embers in the firelight. His breath is hot against the goosebumps. “You’re damn beautiful, honey,” Dwayne mumbles. It’s the first time he’s spoken in a while, and he sounds absolutely wrecked.
You want to hear more of that crackly voice, but his lips are creating a trail of kisses up your belly, across your sternum and into the valley of your breasts. The sensation is hot and electrifying and you tangle your fingers in his hair to keep him there.
Though, unfortunately for him, Gibbs once again steals the show.
Because this time, he doesn’t tease. Doesn’t make you seek out the pleasure: he readily gives it. Sinks his middle finger in with one fluid motion, and grinds the heel of his hand against you until your nails dig into Dwayne’s scalp with a harsh gasp.
Dwayne makes some kind of noise to the pain - you can feel the vibration, but he keeps on course.
“Dwayne’s right, ya know,” Gibbs comments. And from above, you can clearly see the light smirk playing on his lips. “You do look beautiful - especially right now.”
Cocky bastard.
Your mouth drops open, and you’re intent on telling him just that. But it seems like Pride and Gibbs are somehow working together. As if they know what the other is doing. Because in the same moment that Jethro curls his finger, Dwayne reaches his goal. His mouth is hot and wet, latching onto your nipple and flicking his tongue over the hard bud and the combination of the two makes your head tilt back in a loud, drawn-out moan.
As if Dwayne’s mouth weren’t enough stimulation, Gibbs thinks it’s a good idea to push in a second finger. It’s a tight, delicious stretch; damn near knocks the wind out of you. And as he pumps his fingers slowly, your hips start to writhe, seeking the friction you need to cum because it’s already so damn close.
Pride can hear your hard, panting breath. Can feel it against his hair and under his lips.
And it only gets harder and louder as time passes. Whatever Gibbs is doing, however he’s pleasuring you, must be fucking working. Because just seconds after he pulls off the first breast to pay attention to the second, your moans are so much louder. More desperate and keening and Dwayne can feel your body tighten up beneath him and it all makes him unbearably hard.
Your climax passes, and once your body goes slack, that’s when Pride lifts his head. His eyes are instantly locked on your face; cheeks pink in your exhilaration, hair mussed up and lips parted as you pant hard. And he wants you to lift your head to look at him. Pride wants to see that dazed look in your eye.
But he leaves you to rest. Presses a kiss to your heaving sternum, and then makes a new trail of wet kisses back down your body.
Pride can feel your muscles quiver, but Gibbs can see it.
Especially when he pulls his fingers free, and your body seems to miss them instantly. Your thighs squeeze together and you whimper softly, but Gibbs is far from done.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
Slowly, your eyes blink open. Jethro is leaning into view, blue eyes blown dark and his own lips are parted and panting because he’s just as turned on as Pride is (if the hurried kisses on your hips and thighs are anything to go by).
Gibbs watches you for a moment. Takes in your tired, but wanting, expression before he finally came in for a kiss. And his kisses are so different than Dwayne’s. Where his were sweet and allowed you to explore him, Jethro simply takes initiative and makes you keep up with him. Though, maybe you can blame his demanding lips on that fact that you just came hard on his fingers - but it’s enough to make your toes curl nonetheless.
His tongue teased your lips open, and just as you’re allowed a taste of him, Gibbs pulls away. His hot breath over your mouth, but before you could initiate another dizzying kiss, his fingers brush over your lips. Purposeful and wet, your mouth instinctively drops open. Gibbs slides them in, pressing down against your tongue, and you taste yourself between two thick fingers.
A moan rose from you, and as your tongue starts swirling between his fingers, his eyes go darker. His chest inflates in his careful breath to keep control.
You want to push him further. Make him lose control the way he did to you. But the feeling of two large hands pushing apart your thighs breaks the spell. In the time it takes for Jethro to pull his fingers free, slick in your saliva, those hands are replaced with two broad shoulders. Keeping your thighs apart while Dwayne gets himself comfortable, and the sensation of him there makes you gasp.
Your body is still receptive from the treatment of Jethro’s fingers; buzzing and sensitive and it only heightened the heat of Pride’s kisses across your inner thighs. It’s a light flutter against your skin, and you’re not positive if it’s his lips or the cold cabin air that gives you such vicious goosebumps. Maybe a little bit of both.
Either way, you know you’d just about die if Dwayne holds off on touching you.
Breaking your gaze from Gibbs, you look down to the man knelt between your knees - eyes turning a dark mossy green in the firelight, and it reflects off his messy hair. The contrast of light makes the sharp angles of his face pop.
The sight of Dwayne looking so raw, you can’t help but stare for a moment. But only a moment, because as soon as he pushes in two long fingers, your head tilts back again. Moaning out in the dark cabin and unwittingly giving Gibbs the perfect opportunity to suck a hickey into your neck.
Fuck it, let him. You’re much more interested in how Pride’s fingers are slowly pumping in and out.
Pleased with your reaction, you’re finally granted his mouth.
“Oh my fucking god, Dwayne,” you cry out, eyes screwed shut tight.
You can’t help it; his tongue is doing some magical things. Enough to make your back arch, toes curl, hips tilt up because the thing you need most in the world is to ride his face into another spectacular climax. Your fingers tangle into Dwayne’s hair, keeping him in place - as if he’d pull away when your noises are this fucking beautiful.
Gibbs doesn’t allow you to fall into the abyss that is Dwayne’s talented tongue. With a new hickey successfully inked into your skin, his lips move up to your ear, breath hot and hard as he whispers, “You the only one who’s gonna have all the fun?”
Your eyes blink open at his question. He should know you don’t have nearly enough brainpower for ask-and-tell. But seeing that familiar cocky look on his face, you figure it’s a question that doesn’t need an answer. Thank God.
Still, you can’t suss out what he meant. So you watch him, confused, until your eyes drop down the length of his body. And there it is; Jethro is using a single hand to undo his belt and jeans. Even from here, in the lowlight of the fire, you can see the hard outline of his cock press against the denim.
Instantly, your mouth waters just a bit. You blame it on the mental image of sucking Jethro off; of him fucking your mouth.
A noise comes up, somewhere between a moan and a whimper and it’s impossible to figure out the cause; Dwayne thrusting his fingers a little harder, or Gibbs coming up to his knees and crawling closer. Either way, you’re not thinking too hard about that. Not thinking too hard about anything other than pushing yourself up to your elbows and leaning towards Gibbs.
Your tongue comes out to wet your lips, and that only makes the Marine give a short chuckle. “Gonna be a good girl? You’ve been doing an awful lot of taking, sweetheart. Not doing a whole lot of giving.” he says in a rough voice.
“Then shut the fuck up and let me give,” you respond. And even to your ears, the words were much more solid and confident than you felt.
In reality, you should’ve sounded shaky and whiny and downright filthy. Because as your hand comes up to rest on his hip, helping Gibbs tug down his jeans, you want nothing more than to suck him off. To find out how he tastes and how he how he sounds.
His pants are tugged low, along with his boxers, until there’s finally enough room for his cock to spring out. Gibbs is hard and veiny and his head shines with smeared pre-cum. His hand wraps around it in a loose fist, strokes it slowly and the head just happens to brush against your lips. The contact - however brief and teasing it is - alights your body in a rush of hot desire that not even Dwayne’s talented tongue can really sate.
And the only real way to be sated is to suck him dry.
With your hand still on his hip, you pull him closer. Your tongue finally peeks out, running up under the head of Jethro’s cock and it makes him hiss in the most delicious way. And despite everything, you can’t help but feel just the smallest inkling of pride at the sound. Makes you wonder just how fucking cocky you’ll get when you make him cum.
That thought is motivation enough to drop your hand from Jethro’s hip, replacing the hand he has stroking his cock to continue the rhythm yourself.
And he’s much thicker than you thought. Hard and heavy in your hand, with a certain softness that prompts you to lean your head in and run your tongue up the length of his cock. Gibbs shivers, and he’s just wound up enough to arch his hips closer and let you work him up.
You’re getting bolder, with all these little reactions from Jethro. Twisting your fist around the head of his cock. Sinking half of him down your throat, just to try and draw out more. To try and turn the stubborn, hard-headed Marine into sawdust-scented putty in your hands.
But Dwayne chooses the worst time to start rubbing the pad of his thumb over your clit.
It’s a firm motion, with his tongue delving ever deeper, and you can’t stop yourself from outright moaning with Jethro’s cock still halfway down your throat. And you’re not too sure if it’s even considered a moan - it’s really only a series of stunted noises and vibrations.
Whatever the hell it was, Gibbs sure seems to have liked it. Pride’s little stunt that almost had you cumming on the spot was equally beneficial for Jethro, who gasped hard and suddenly had his fingers gripping your hair tight. His hips even give a very light rock, but you can tell he was really holding back.
“Your mouth feels good, honey,” Gibbs exhales. His voice is tighter than it was; like he’s fighting hard as hell to keep his control. You don’t see, but his eyes flicker down to Pride. “King, make her moan again.”
God. What a fucking bastard.
Before you can pull off and tell him that, Dwayne obliges. His fingers curl inside you, hitting a certain spot that would’ve been toe-curling alone. But this time, instead of his thumb, his lips are on your clit. Tonguing and even sucking it, and you’d be damned if you didn’t moan louder, this time. Hips angling to try and grind on his tongue, but your movements are awkward when Gibbs grips your hair even tighter.
He pulls his cock out, letting you suck in a lungful of air, before he sinks it deep.
Gibbs continues that pattern, reaping the benefits of Dwayne trying his hardest to get you to cum. He feels every little vibration on his cock, and even when he pulls back, you waste the chance to breathe because you just have to push a loud moan out into the air.
Eventually, the pleasure just builds to a point where even Gibbs can see you’re about to go over the edge.
He does grant the small courtesy of pulling back a bit to where you could breathe through your nose. But when Dwayne’s assault finally breaks you, he’s still in your mouth. Still feels your tongue glide against the head of his cock as you cum. Hard. Crying out and gasping as you ride Pride’s face and the vibrations of your moans still feel fucking heavenly. Gibbs is almost disappointed when you stop, and he only feels your hot panting against his cock. So he pulls it out and leans back against his feet.
The second orgasm really did take a lot out of you. Or maybe it’s because of the attack on two fronts and it’s all just a little much, right now. But your eyes are closed, readily falling into the satisfied afterglow that Dwayne had provided. You want to talk; tell him how fucking good he is with his mouth. But words don’t come easy, right now. Not with his hands stroking your thighs, and Jethro’s fingers lightly moving through your hair. Somehow, the combination of the two feels even better than the orgasm.
The sound of somebody moving, and the warm body heat that follows, prompts your heavy eyes open. Dwayne’s gaze, turned mossy green by the firelight, captures your eyes instantly. You scarcely notice his flushed face, or swollen lips, or messy hair because his eyes are so damn soft.
And then he’s kissing you, making you taste yourself on his tongue. When your teeth brush against his lower lip, Dwayne lets out a noise. Quiet, keening, more desperate than you’d expect from one of the most solid men you know.
Though, once his hips roll against yours and you can feel how hard his cock is straining against his jeans, you start to understand what’s got him so needy.
You hum softly. Wrap a leg over his hip and pull him closer, and the closeness has Dwayne hitching his breath. He pulls back from the kiss, blinking a couple times to see you through the horny haze he’s in.
“Your turn, Dwayne,” you tell him softly. And along with your hand slowly moving down the expanse of his chest, it just makes him shiver.
And he’s much too eager to take his turn. There’s even a light smirk on his face when Dwayne pushes himself up to his knees. After pulling his shirt off over his head, he undoes the button and zipper of his jeans to push them and his boxers down, revealing the deep V of his hips. His cock, sensitive after being locked away for so long, is long and hard. Longer than Jethro’s, and there’s a sudden small urge to derail Dwayne’s plans. To flip him over and give him the same treatment you provided to Gibbs.
But one of his hands grips your hip, the other working over his cock. Slowly, as to not get himself too close to the edge before he’s actually inside you. But as patient a man as Dwayne is, you can tell by the way he pants how much he needed this. Needed you.
So when he positions your hips in the right way, your spine arches to help. Granted, the help with nullified once Dwayne gently pushed the first inch inside - because you made a noise so fucking sweet, he could’ve came on the spot.
He doesn’t, though. It’s that famous self-restraint.
Dwayne does groan and screw his eyes shut when he gives a light thrust, pushing half his cock in. He wants more, but your gasp stills him. His cock is much thicker than his or Jethro’s fingers. It’s a stinging, delicious stretch that makes you grateful you have a leg around his hip; you tug him closer. Nearly all the way in, and that’s finally enough to make him swear.
His fingers will leave raisin-colored marks on your skin, that much is certain. But they still feel good - grounding, because the slow glide of his cock in and out surely would’ve made you forget how to breathe.
You’re more than willing to fall into the sensation of Dwayne, but suddenly, there’s a calloused hand on your cheek. Warm and strong and it prompts your eyes open. Dwayne and his gaping mouth and half-lidded eyes are visible for only a moment before your head is tilted to the side. And fire-lit golden skin is replaced with darkened cobalt eyes.
Jethro says not a word. You feel his breath on your lips, but he’s kissing you earnestly before you could babble out anything. A long moan - shamelessly wanton - rang against his lips because you’re too far gone with pleasure to even think, much less care.
Noses smush together. Tongues dancing and Jethro’s teeth nipped at your bottom lip, just to tease. And along the way, you wonder why the hell he keeps smirking. It doesn’t occur to you that Jethro finds it amusing that you whimper every time Dwayne hits a sweet spot.
Disappointingly, he breaks the kiss. Your eyes blink open, fighting to make out the blue in his eyes in the golden light of the fire. But Gibbs motions his head, silently beckoning your attention back to Dwayne. So you mindlessly follow his order and turn your head back. Your eyes meet Pride’s for just a moment, and it’s him who breaks the contact. Hanging his head to concentrate on keeping the (albeit sloppy) rhythm.
It’s still a fucking beautiful sight.
That’s when Jethro brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, his voice low and breath hot. “You like the way he’s fucking you?” He asks. “Like how it feels?”
Your brain isn’t in the state to be talking right now, so the most you can do is nod.
“You want me to fuck you like that?”
Again, you nod. More desperate, this time, as you keep watching Dwayne. His hips are going faster, harder, keeping less of a rhythm and more just chasing his orgasm.
Jethro pressing a soft kiss against the hinge of your jaw. “Can’t wait to hear you moan like that for me, honey.”
“Fuck!” Dwayne suddenly yelps. It’s loud, and you hadn’t been expecting a noise like that to come from him. And because of it, your attention wavers away from Jethro whispers things in your ear. Focus instead on Dwayne; his hips giving a few more sharp thrusts before he pulls out. His hand is instantly wrapped around his cock, pumping until streams of his cum shoot across your belly. Dwayne is breathing heavy with his eyes squeezed shut, moaning deep in the back of his throat until the orgasm passes. And his hand slows, languidly stroking his cock until he just stops altogether.
You hadn’t even noticed you were staring until Dwayne raises his head. Locks eyes with you and offers a small, shy smile. He’s still catching his breath, and the exertion makes his movements slow and wobbly. But after casting a brief glance to Gibbs, Dwayne moves away from between your legs. Collapses back on his bedroll next to you with a contented sigh.
“You really made a mess of things, King,” Jethro comments, moving to take his spot between your thighs. And a trail of goosebumps follow his hands when he moves them across your skin - you’re not yet so numb as to not feel the heat of his palms.
Dwayne lets out a small, almost disinterested hum. That’s when you shift slightly; throwing a smile up to Jethro as he uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer. “I don’t mind the mess,” you tell him. Voice all hoarse and rough and the sound of it is enough to attract Dwayne’s attention. Make him just a little less groggy.
Jethro just huffed before his attention dropped between your legs. And you take advantage of the small moment of peace by looking sideways to Dwayne. He’s watching you, eyes heavy but bright with his half-smile - that post-orgasm affection. The tips of his fingers gently run over the skin of your arm. A feather-light touch that would’ve tickled, had you not been so fucked out.
The hitch of your breath didn’t come from Dwayne’s soft caress. It wasn’t anything so innocent; the blunt head of Jethro’s cock was the culprit, pushing through and stretching you back out with little warning.
The hitch became a gasp when Jethro gave an experimental thrust of his hips. Testing just how well you take him and gauging his speed. But by now, you were so wet and fucked open, it really didn’t take him much time to bottom out. Fingers tightly gripping your thighs, it didn’t matter to him that he was going second. Jethro’s sharp breath showcased his pleasure.
“God- fuck...”
So he did swear.
The air pushed from your lungs with each slow, deep thrust he took. And when Jethro found a quick rhythm, it didn’t help. He pushed your thighs up, knees apart, making ample room for himself to drive in over and over. And he knew he wouldn’t last too long; the memory of your hot mouth on his cock was still too fresh. But he was going to make you cum for a third time before he was done.
Past the blind pleasure and the weight of Jethro slamming against yours, there’s a pair of lips on your cheek. The soft fingers that had been stroking your arm now resting against your ribs, hand blossomed out like an orchid in bloom.
“You doin’ okay?” A low voice murmured in your ear. His nose nuzzled lightly against your temple; soft and affectionate.
Immediately, you turn your head to face him. And in that moment, you never needed Dwayne more than you did right now. Jethro was hitting all the best spots, but somehow, you needed more. “Dwayne,” you manage to whimper his name. Unable to say much more and praying he understood.
He’s known you for such a long time. Of course he caught on.
The way he kissed you wasn’t as rough and desperate as all the others have been. And in a way, that made it so much more intense. Dwayne’s tongue ran along your bottom lip, taking his time, letting you taste him and allowing himself to breathe you in. His hand stroked over your abdomen, further spreading his cum into your skin but not giving a damn about it.
And when Dwayne breaks the kiss to move down, his mouth once again latching onto your tits, your fingers instantly move to run through his hair.
Maybe because Jethro was getting rougher in his thrusts. Forcing you to climb up toward your third orgasm with him, and you just needed something to hang onto. Dwayne was the closest thing.
Case in point, when Gibbs slightly changed his position. His cock hammered in differently - better - and you cried out. Fingers tugging hard on Dwayne’s hair and making the poor man yelp into your soft skin. His head instinctively pulls away and, despite the pain, he’s wearing a sly smirk.
“S-sorry,” you manage weakly.
“Nah, you pull as hard you want,” Dwayne replies. And the soft, yet wrecked, sound of his voice is enough to give you goosebumps.
And with his mouth coming back to sucking hickeys into your skin, you’re well aware how fucking close you are to cumming again. Release so painfully near; a literal breath away. And from the look of Jethro, he’s in a similar state.
His thrusts have grown sloppy, large hands branding your thighs with fingerprint bruises; gripping them so hard to give himself leverage. Jaw dropped to catch his breath because you can tell the Marine is exerting a massive amount of self-control to keep himself from cumming. But even Leroy Jethro Gibbs has his limits, and it would be cruel to ask him to hold off much longer.
You angle your hips up just a little. “Jethro,” you call softly. His eyes rise to meet yours; hazy and dark in his pleasure. “Need you. Please. Please- fuck...make me cum again.” You’re not above pleading. Putting that extra edge in your voice to wind him up a bit more.
He swears; low and deep in his chest. Nearly sounding like a growl as one of his hands leaves your thigh, dropping in between your legs. And once Jethro quickly starts rubbing hard, tight circles around your clit, that’s when he starts falling over the edge. It’s not really his fault; you tightened up around him and cried out into the dark cabin and Jethro noticed how your fingers once again curled into Dwayne’s hair.
His body acts on its own - giving one, two more desperate thrusts before pulling out. The hand he used to help you cum instantly wraps around his cock, and Jethro even lets out a tight groan as his cum hits the inside of your thighs. It trickled down your leg slowly as he came down from his high, leaning back to sit on his feet. And yeah, he selfishly enjoys the image you lay out for him; panting and fucked out, painted with cum.
While Gibbs recuperated, Dwayne is actually the first to move. His eyes drag themselves away from you, glancing around the fire-lit cabin to find the shirt he’d so desperately tossed away. And when he spots the familiar fabric, he uses it to wipe away the mess he left behind on your belly.
Dwayne handed the shirt to Jethro, and he does the same with your thighs.
You listen as both men finally settle in on their respective bedrolls; their breathing still heavy, but slowly evening out. That’s when your eyes open, blinking up at the ceiling of Jethro’s cabin. The firelight flickers against the old wood; a strangely serene image. So starkly different from the images of hazy eyes and eager lips.
With things slowing down, it would be so easy to just close your eyes again. Your body feels weightless and it’s warm and you could so effortlessly fall asleep.
But Dwayne speaks up, cutting through the sound of crackling wood and howling wind. “Hey, Jethro?”
There’s a slight hesitance from Gibbs. “....Yeah?”
“I reckon we outta come out here more often.”
Maybe it’s you. All those endorphins still flew around in your head. Or maybe what Dwayne said was legitimately funny. But you burst out laughing, and Dwayne followed shortly after. And through it all, you even hear Jethro’s deep chuckles.
Your laughs had devolved into light giggles by the time Gibbs is pulling a blanket over you. It’s hard to tell whose blanket it is, actually, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s warm and comes with a soft caress over your hair from Jethro as you turn away from him.
Dwayne’s shoulder does make a damn fine pillow. And just in case it gets cold in the night again, the press of Jethro’s body against your back will assure you won’t freeze.
#ncis x reader#ncis new orleans x reader#leroy jethro gibbs x reader#dwayne pride x reader#ncis nola x reader#ncis reader insert
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Snow and Fur
(You may need to click the image for better quality)
Happy New Year to @itstrulyastrangerthing! You were my giftee for the @sincerely-us winter gift exchange! I had such a fun time painting the fanart above and writing the fanfic below. I adored your first prompt, but you will find a little bit of your second prompt in the fic. I hope you enjoy, and may the new year bring you good things! <3
Quick Disclaimer: This is an AU where Connor is still alive, and there is healthy Bandtrees!
Ao3 Link
Evan fumbled with his hands. A mix of excitement and nervousness sat inside of him.
When Zoe brought the idea of adopting a dog to him one day, he thought it was perfect. The two had more than enough time to take care of one with the holiday season. Though Evan never had any experience with pets, Zoe recalled having a golden retriever, Sadie, in her childhood.
“Excited?” Zoe asks, remaining her focus on driving. The roads were a little icy in the late December weather.
Evan nods, “A little scared, but I’m excited.”
Zoe pulls into the parking lot of the animal shelter. The cold wind welcomed Evan’s face and lungs when he opened the car door, sending a chill down his spine.
Zoe intertwines her fingers into Evan’s hand.
“You ready?”
Evan looks at Zoe’s face. She gave him a subtle, reassuring smile. It was almost as her calm demeanor was seeping through her fingertips, transferring it to Evan’s hand.
Evan squeezed her hand tighter, nodding.
The shelter had a thick odar hanging in the air when the couple walked in. A lady greeted them, and Zoe explained what they were looking for. She led them to an array of dog kennels. Each dog they looked at, the lady told them their story.
Zoe looked up at Evan each time. What do you think?
Let’s keep looking. Evan would reply by shaking his head.
Soon, a dog finally caught Evan’s eyes.
A smaller dog sat in the corner of the cage. It’s back was to them, so all you could see was it’s thin light brown coat.
“This is Buddy,” the kennel lady explained to him, “six years old. We aren’t quite sure what breed he is, but we believe he is part corgi and part beagle.”
“How did he end up here?” Evan asked.
“Previous family abandoned him when he got older. They preferred cuter puppies, and traded him for a much younger, purebred dog.”
Evan’s heart ached for the dog, even feeling a little sympathy. His own father left, and traded him and his mom for another family. Evan remembered feeling hurt because of it.
Evan knew exactly what Buddy needed.
“Buddy barely moves though,” the kennel lady says, “there are more dogs over here.”
“Um… could I try to…?”
The kennel lady shrugs before unlocking the cage.
Evan slowly enters the cage. Buddy turned his head slightly, looking at Evan. Evan noticed he had amber eyes.
Evan crouched down. He extended his hand outwards, towards Buddy. The dog slowly, and cautiously, stood up, and began to approach Evan. Buddy extended his muzzle to his hand, sniffing Evan’s fingers.
Buddy inched closer. Evan slowly lowered his hand on Buddy’s back. Buddy tensed at Evan’s touch. The dog looked at Evan, and Evan worried he startled Buddy. However, Buddy relaxed, and melted in his touch.
“Well would you look at that,” the kennel lady said, “Buddy usually doesn’t like to be touched by others.”
Evan looks at Zoe, who is smiling at him.
“Can we get this one?” Evan asks.
“I don’t think we have a choice.”
-
Evan was getting used to having a dog around their apartment, and Buddy was used to having a home.
“You two look comfy,” Zoe smiles, holding two mugs of hot chocolate in her hands. Both mugs visibly had tall whipped cream dollops, and were sprinkled with crushed peppermint candy canes.
Evan was on the couch, Buddy on his lap. They were wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, and Buddy was enjoying the gentle scratches Evan was giving him.
Buddy had started to be relaxed when Evan or Zoe had touched him. The dog had let it’s guard down to them, and was more and more cheerful each coming day.
“Come join us,” Evan patted the spot next to him.
“Hold on, I need a photo of my two favorite boys,” Zoe pulls out her phone, setting the hot chocolate on the nearby coffee table.
Though Evan was usually camera shy, he gave Zoe a huge, goofy smile, making Zoe laugh as she snapped the photo. She then sits next to Evan on the couch. Evan wraps her some of his blanket.
“This may be my new favorite photo,” Zoe comments, “look how cute you both are.”
Evan blushes as Zoe puts her phone away. She reaches over to Evan’s lap, stroking Buddy’s fur. Buddy licks her wrist in return.
“Are we ready to start movie night?” Evan asks, sipping his drink.
“Yep,” Zoe says, popping open a fresh bag of plain popcorn. Buddy looked at Zoe, eyeing the snack. Zoe passed him a kernel. Buddy graciously accepted the treat.
“Zoe!”
“Relax,” Zoe says, “it’s not going to hurt him. Connor and I used to feed our old dog popcorn all the time.”
Evan could imagine Zoe and Connor as children, taking turns to feed Sadie handfuls of popcorn. He could also imagine Cynthia reminding them to stop feeding their dog (of course, they wouldn’t listen).
“Okay. What type of movie do you want to watch?” Evan asks, clicking the remote, scrolling through different genres.
They decided on a dog movie. It seemed fitting, since Buddy was in their arms to watch it. As Evan clicked ‘play,’ he curled into Zoe’s side.
“This is the best way to beat the cold,” Evan says, taking in the warmth of Zoe’s body.
“I’d have to agree.”
-
“He looks ridiculous.”
“Everyone needs to be bundled up,” Evan says, picking up Buddy, “including pets.”
Evan had dressed Buddy in a thick winter coat. Booties were on each of his paws, and the outfit was topped with a knitted dog hat.
“Besides, I think he is rocking the outfit,” Evan jokes.
Zoe hooks the dog leash to Buddy’s collar, “Whatever you say dear. You ready for a walk Bud?!”
Buddy wagged his tail, and began to pant excitly.
“Before we go, one more person has to put on some winter clothes,” Evan eyes Zoe.
“I’m wearing a coat!” Zoe exclaims, “and it’s just a walk.”
Evan grabs a scarf and hat, “It’s still twenty degrees outside. We don’t want mommy to be cold, right Buddy?”
Buddy barks in reply.
“Fine,” Zoe allows Evan to wrap her scarf around her neck, and slip her hat on her head. Once he’s done, he gives Zoe a quick kiss on the cheek.
Just as Evan is about to open the door, Zoe grabs his hand, pulling him closer to her.
“You missed,” Zoe smirks.
Evan closes his eyes, and leans into Zoe, pressing his lips to hers. Zoe’s hands wrap around the bare spots of his neck that his scarf did not cover. Evan a breath hitches at the touch, and he wraps his arms around her lower back.
A yip interrupted them. Zoe and Evan break apart. Buddy was patiently sitting on the floor, looking utterly betrayed. Zoe and Evan blush and giggle.
Zoe gives Evan one last kiss before opening the door, the cool air welcoming their faces. Buddy quickly jumped outside, hopping into the fresh, fluffy snow from the previous night. He rolled around until snow covered his muzzle.
Buddy led the way during the walk, eager to look at everything ahead of him. Evan had his arm linked to Zoe’s, admiring the winter wonderland in front of them. Dark pine trees were coated with snow. The sky was blue, and not it’s normal grey. The sun was brightly shining on their faces, and snowflakes were lazily descending from the sky.
“The weather is nice,” Evan says.
Zoe nods, “Buddy is enjoying it.”
Buddy was attempting to catch falling snowflakes into his mouth. Evan and Zoe giggled.
The only downside to the winter weather is that when snow mixes with a dirt road, then it becomes muddy. Mud puddles were formed all over the road they were walking on.
Unfortunately, Buddy jumped right into a puddle.
Evan and Zoe gasped, but Buddy loved it. He rolled around and splashed in the sticky dirt.
Evan lifted him up, holding him arms length out. Buddy was smiling as mud was dripping off him.
“Looks like someone will need a bath.”
-
Zoe carefully lowered Buddy into their bathtub. Buddy had a look of fear on his face. When Zoe mentioned that he needed a bath, Buddy did whatever it took to avoid it.
Even if it meant trailing mud into their apartment.
“See Bud? It’s okay,” Zoe says once his paws dipped into the water.
Buddy splashed the water, still uneasy.
“I cleaned up all the mud,” Evan enters the bathroom, “how are things going in here?”
“I’m just trying to get Buddy to calm down.”
Evan sits next to Zoe. He reaches his hand over to Buddy, scratching his ears. Buddy was still tense as Zoe gently set him down.
“See? Not that bad,” Evan assures the dog.
Zoe squirts dog shampoo into her hand. She allows Buddy to smell it before applying it, lightly massaging it into his fur. The soap helped the mud slip off with ease. Buddy became more relaxed with Evan’s presence and Zoe’s gentle motions.
“The warm water must feel nice after being in the cold,” Evan says, helping Zoe rinse the soap off.
Zoe wiggles her eyebrows, “What if we did this once we finish cleaning Buddy up?”
“I like the way you think.”
A mist of water droplets hit the couple as Buddy began to shake himself dry. The two turn to each other, before laughing.
“Guess he already showered us off,” Zoe chuckles.
Evan reaches for a soft towel, and Zoe lifts Buddy out of the tub. Evan dries the dog off before wrapping him up.
-
Evan was thankful that the cafe allowed dogs.
“You ready to see mommy perform?” Evan cooed, holding Buddy in one arm, and a bouquet of lavender and carnation flowers in another.
Zoe had gotten a gig to perform at a winter event at a local cafe. Evan was ecstatic to watch her perform (despite listening to her practice a couple times).
Evan finds an open table. A waiter comes by to ask him what he would like, and he just orders a tea.
The show began, and numerous small and local musicians arrived on stage, each singing a song, and playing many different types of instruments.
When it was Zoe’s turn to arrive on the stage, Evan’s heart sprang with excitement. As Zoe got her acoustic guitar tuned, her eyes traced around the crowd until they found Evan and Buddy. Once she did, Evan moved Buddy’s paw to make it look like he was waving at her. A smile appeared on Zoe’s face.
Zoe began to straighten up, and took in a deep breath. She began to strike the first chords of White Winter Hymnal. She began to sing softly and smoothly.
“I was following
I was following
I was following
I was following
I was following the pack
All swallowed in their coats
With scarves of red tied ‘round their throats
To keep their little heads
From falling in the snow
And I turned ‘round and there you go
And Michael you would fall
And turn the white snow red as strawberries in the summertime.”
Zoe stopped singing, still strumming her guitar. The guitar produced a soft, warm sound. She hummed along to the song. Evan closed his eyes, enjoying just the sound of her voice and guitar.
Zoe repeated the chorus a couple more times before finishing the song. The audience, including Evan, clapped for Zoe. Buddy began to howl, cheering on Zoe. The audience chuckled.
Zoe grinned before exiting the stage, allowing the next performer to take the stage. Evan left his seat, following Zoe behind the stage.
She beamed at Evan when he approached her.
“Amazing job! You sounded… gorgeous,” Evan compliments.
“Thank you. That means a lot.”
“Buddy also thought you sounded amazing,” Evan states.
Zoe holds her arms out, and Evan places Buddy in them. Buddy nuzzled into Zoe’s chest.
“I also got you these,” Evan displays the flowers to Zoe.
“Thanks Ev,” Zoe leans to him, and Evan pulls her into a hug.
“Do you think you can sing for us again tonight?”
“Always for you two.”
-
“Evan! How does Buddy look?”
Evan adjusted his tie as he looked over at Buddy, who was in Zoe’s arms. He wore a sparkly black bow tie. Evan and Zoe were planning to take him to the Murphys’ annual New Year’s Eve party. He would be able to meet Cynthia, Larry, Connor, Heidi, and their friends.
“Awwww, he looks so handsome,” Evan pet Buddy’s head.
“I tried putting the rest of his tuxedo on, but someone wasn’t cooperating,” Zoe says.
Buddy gives them a guilty look. Evan laughs.
“I think he looks amazing,” Evan says, “and so do you.”
“It isn’t too flashy, is it?” Zoe asked.
She wore a black top with a metallic gold skirt. It matched Evan’s black suit and gold tie.
“Nope. You look perfect. Don’t you agree Buddy?”
Buddy licks Zoe’s face.
“Thanks Bud,” Zoe presses a kiss to Buddy’s head.
“Could I get one?” Evan smirks.
“Buddy, could you give daddy a kiss?” Zoe teases, reaching the dog towards Evan.
“Zoeeeee,” Evan whines, giggling as Buddy licks his face as well.
Zoe playfully sticks out her tongue before kissing his cheek. Zoe sets Buddy down. Zoe noticed her phones started to buzz on the table. She picked it up. There were numerous different texts from her mom.
Cynthia: Are you and Evan coming?
Cynthia: The party has already started.
Zoe looked at the time. They were thirty minutes past the time they were supposed to arrive.
“Hey Evan.”
“Hm?” Evan asks as he combs his hair.
“We were supposed to be at my parent’s house thirty minutes ago.”
Evan stops, “I knew we shouldn’t have waited for Buddy to wake up.”
“In my defense, he was sleeping on my lap. What was I supposed to do, move and wake him up?”
“Fair point.”
-
“There you two are!” Cynthia scolds Zoe and Evan when they walk into the Murphy house, wearing a dark dress and holding a wine glass in tack, “what took you two so long?”
Before Zoe can explain, Cynthia sees Buddy in her arms.
“Did you guys get a dog?!”
“Mom, meet Buddy!” Zoe says.
“Well aren’t you the cutest!” Cynthia gushes over Buddy. Zoe sets Buddy onto the ground. He sniffs Cynthia curiously before allowing Cynthia to touch him. He curled up against Cynthia’s touch.
“He’s also such a sweetheart!” Cynthia coos.
Cynthia calls for everyone. At the moment Cynthia said the word “dog,” everyone quickly rushed to see. The moment eyes were laid on Buddy, he was all anyone could rave about.
-
“I think he’s enjoying the attention,” Evan chuckles.
Jared, Alana, and Connor were crouched on the ground. Jared got the brilliant idea of using his tie for a game of tug of war. Alana and Connor were cheering Buddy on as he pulled the tie, determined to win. Earlier, Larry slid small pieces of chicken for Buddy under the table during dinner, and Cynthia and Heidi had been showering him with belly rubs and kisses throughout the night. No one even noticed when midnight hit the clock. All eyes were on Buddy.
Evan and Zoe were sitting on the couch, watching Buddy like proud parents.
“He’s the star of the show,” Zoe agrees.
“I’m glad we adopted him,” Evan says, resting his head on Zoe’s shoulder, “he makes everyone happy. He makes me happy.”
“He makes me happy too,” Zoe plants a kiss to his forehead, returning her focus to Buddy, who tore the tie out of Jared’s hands. Alana scooped the dog in her arms as Jared claimed he let the dog win.
Evan smiled, closing his eyes. He wanted to savor this moment forever.
#dear evan hansen#deh#bandtrees#evan hansen#zoe murphy#deh fanfic#deh fanart#my writing#my art#okay but this is like my first fanart im excited
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Hey! I love your content. I'm not sure if you're accepting prompts at this time, but I wanted to ask for an Outlander fic in which Jamie is coming down with a chest cold and tries really hard not to keep Claire up all night with his coughing, but she eventually gets up and takes care of him.
Thanks for your prompt! I have a ton of prompts I haven’t written yet and I haven’t written much at all in the past months, but this one sparked something for me tonight. So enjoy this little quick indulgence....it’s easy to write a sick Jamie! He’s so perfect for it.
-
Outside, the wind whipped and howled and battered at the walls of the log cabin. Claire poked at the fire in the hearth with a stick, willing it to burn hotter but no amount of logs added seemed to keep out the chill. It was the coldest day yet in a series of bitterly cold weeks and her nerves were starting to fray with worry.
They'd already nearly lost some livestock to the cold before Jamie was able to seal up some holes in the shelter and put out a fresh layer of hay for warmth. It'd taken him an hour to dig it out from a snow drift and turn the pile over enough to find some dry straw. Every morning, Claire broke the ice from the water troughs and checked on the mule and goats, often finding them curled up together.
Thankfully, Jamie had the forethought to secure them some proper furs through a trade before the worst of the weather hit. Combined with thick woollen hats and scarves knit by Claire, they were almost substantial enough to keep out the worst of the cold when dealing with the outdoor chores.
Jamie had woken that morning with a stuffy head and a hoarse voice, but could not be kept from the duties of the yard. Claire had layered him up and tugged a particularly thick pair of mittens onto his hands.
“Ima not going to get a thing done with these beasts on my hands,” he teased her.
“I'd rather you stayed in where it's a bit warmer, but this will be the compromise,” she chided.
He'd left the mittens on and gone about his work, leaving her inside to fret over the fire and over his well-being. As another gale of wind shook the thick glass window panes, she paused to look out over the yard, squinting through the blowing flurries for a glimpse of her husband. By the telling of the setting of the sun and the pocket-watch Jamie kept on the bedside table, it was nearly past six. He should have been back inside for his supper by now. She'd made some stew with root vegetables and a bit of stock left from the chicken they'd roasted last week. Now it sat steaming in the pot, staying warm over some coals on the wide hearth.
Tucking her shawl tightly around herself, she yanked open the front door of the cabin and leaned out into the icy air.
“Jamie!” she shouted as loudly as she could over the howling wind. “Lunch is ready! Come in!”
Not wanting to let much more of the cold air into the house, she shut the door and waited anxiously by the window, watching for his tall figure to emerge from the trees.
A few minutes passed and he did not appear. She tried again, shouting as loudly as she was able but the snow and wind seemed to suck the sound right up and whisk it away thought the trees, leaving her standing silent and alone on the threshold.
She knew what she had to do. As she layered on her coat, furs, and woollens, she thought wistfully of trousers and how convenient it would be to wear them more frequently in this century. The three layers of skirts she wore were heavy enough without the added burden of snow to weigh them down.
She trudged out into the snow with a lantern in hand, making her way down towards the animal paddock. Jamie was no where to be seen there, so she circled to the entrance to the root cellar and then over to the latrine, finding him at neither location. Finally she spotted him in a nearby cleaning, leaning against a tree.
“Jamie!” she shouted over the wind. This time he heard her and looked up. He began to make his way towards her, head bowed against the blowing show.
“What're you doing out here, Sassanach?” he asked her, his voice muddied by the layers over his face.
“Looking for you!” she said. “It's past dinner. Come in and get warm. What were you doing?”
“Checking the traps,” he said with a thick sniffle. His scarf was frosty and damp from his breath and the running of his nose, which was crimson where it was visible above the wool. The colour of his cheeks matched, pink and wind-bitten. “There was nothing. Not even a rabbit.”
“There's plenty food to last us,” she said. “Come inside.”
They made their way back to the cabin and knocked the snow from their clothes and boots on the porch before heading inside.
“Christ,” Jamie said breathlessly, pulling away a layer of fur and wool and tugging off his hat. His long hair tumbled out, sweat-soaked and wet. He turned away from Claire, tucking his head towards his shoulder and sneezed with a loud outburst.
Hehh-tsGCHMPHHH!
“I told you,” she admonished, taking off her layers before bending to help him out of his boots. Freed of the damp shoes, he went over and sat down on the bed, digging for a handkerchief from his pocket to blow his nose.
“It's the warm in here compared to out there,” he said congestedly. “My breathin's all confused.”
“I think it's a cold,” she replied. “You were sniffly this morning. I don't want you back out there today.”
He stripped off his wet woollen stockings, passing them to her to hang over the hearth before tugging on a dry pair.
“There's some stew that should warm us up,” she offered, scooping out two bowlfuls.
He sat at the table and ate hungrily, only stopping to sniffle and tend to his runny nose. When they were done, she cleared the bowls aside and said, “Why don't you get to bed and do some reading or something? Keep yourself warm.”
He didn't fight her on it, which she found a little worrisome. She watched as he stripped off his trousers and climbed into bed, settling down under the quilt. She layered a fur pelt, making sure it was tucked over his feet. He settled back into the pillows with his spectacles on and a book in his lap while she put away the remains of the stew and poked at the fire some more.
By the time she was ready to turn in herself, he'd dozed off sitting up with his glasses still on. With a smile, she gently took them off and marked the place in his book before putting it on the nightstand. She climbed into bed beside him, huddling close for warmth, and dozed off.
It felt like only moments before she was awake again, but the cabin was dark with only the dim glow of the fire's embers to see. Beside her was the source of her disturbance: Jamie, awake and coughing wretchedly.
“Jamie?” she murmured, putting a hand on his shaking back.
“I'm sorry, Sassanach,” he sputtered, turning his face into his pillow. “I'm alright.”
He got control of the fit and quieted.
“I'm sorry,” he repeated softly. “Go back t'sleep.”
She frowned.
“Are you sure? That sounded nasty.”
“Just got a bit of a tickle,” he whispered. “S'fine.”
He rolled over and pulled the quilt up tight around his shoulders. Claire settled back down and tucked herself against the line of his back, rubbing her hand gently along his spine.
She dozed off again, only to wake once more to the sound of him fighting a cough. He was sitting up, trying to keep quiet as he snuck out of bed in search of a glass of water.
Claire sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes.
“Love, come back to bed,” she urged. “Let me get it.”
“S'fine,” he choked between hoarse coughs as he stumbled in his shirt and stockings towards the pitcher on the kitchen table. He fought to steady his hands as he poured a mugful of water.
Claire got up, shivering as soon as she emerged from the covers. She could see her breath in the cold air of the cabin as she walked towards Jamie.
“Get back into bed,” she urged, putting a hand on his arm and guiding him. She took the mug of water from his hands as he sat down on the edge of the bed and struggled with a series of intense coughs that bent him at the waist and turned his face hot and sweaty.
“Oh, love,” she sighed, sitting beside him and holding a steady hand on his shoulder as he coughed. “Here.”
She guided a handkerchief into his hand and he held it to his mouth, moving it a little to wipe the trail of snot dribbling from his nose.
“Get under the quilts,” she said, reaching for her shawl and a sweater, pulling them both on over her shift. “I'll heat some water and get some things to make you feel better.”
“No,” he sputtered. “Stay.”
He let his head bob down against her shoulder for a moment, his damp sweaty hair against her neck. She stroked his cheek affectionately and kissed the top of his head before he moved away again to cough.
“You're going to be up all night like this if I don't,” she protested, pushing down the quilts and helping him turn so he was under them again, leaning back against the headboard.
“Please,” he murmured. The coughs were settling and he was able to take a sip of water now without spilling it. With a sigh, she tucked herself beside him and he leaned into her chest, closing his eyes. She closed her own, snuggling into the warm sheets.
Inevitably, he started again within the hour. Claire opened her eyes and looked at him seriously.
“Jamie,” she said. “Please let me help. You'll never get to sleep properly like this and neither will I.”
He nodded wearily and watched her from the bed as she got the fire back up and set a kettle to boil.
“While we wait for that, I have something else that will help.”
She retrieved a small tin from her medicine chest and uncapped it, revealing a strong-smelling oily cream.
Jamie wrinkled his nose and pulled the sheets up.
“Oh Christ, not that stuff,” he groaned.
“It helps. Bear grease camphor. A little won't kill you.”
Reluctantly, he lowered the blankets and allowed her access to his shirt. She pulled it down at the chest and smeared a thick layer of the grease across his skin, tucking a scrap of flannel over it before tucking the quilts back up.
“There,” she said, patting his chest gently. “That should calm things. We'll get some tea into you and you can hopefully get some sleep.”
She poured a mug of hot water over a bag filled with herbs and let it steep before stirring in some honey and coltsfoot root. Jamie pulled a face as he drank some of it, but did not protest. Claire took the half-full mug from his hands and climbed back into bed at his side.
“Better?” she whispered, feeling his brow and finding it warm but not feverish. “I think it's just a cold gone to your chest.”
“They always do,” he rasped. “Since I was a wee lad.”
“See if you can settle,” she urged. “I'll be right here.”
She let him snuggle against her chest, his hot breath puffing against her neck. He coughed softly a few times but not as violently as before. The day's hard work and the fatigue from illness proved stronger than the urge to cough and soon he was asleep, snoring softly. Claire ran her fingers through his hair, raking the curls back as he slept. Once she was sure he was fully asleep, she closed her own eyes, listening to his noisy breathing as she too drifted back to sleep.
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The Art Of Remembrance (Part 1)
Summary: Sokka spies an injured woman crossing the tundra; all she remembers is that her name is Azula and that she escaped from an institution.
Note: This is one of a few fics I’m testing the waters with. Once again I have a lot of ideas and I’m trying to decide which to go with.
The snow crunches beneath Sokka’s feet as he crosses the tundra. He is almost home, almost. And thank Raava for that, even beneath his gloves his hands a beginning to sting with the cold and his teeth are chattering pretty good.
He supposes that a good day’s worth of fishing is worth the trouble of having to cross the snowy landscape. He hoists his catches over his shoulder and trudges the rest of the way home. With a huff he sets the bag on the floor and greets Katara with a wave. “Where’s dad?”
“He’s telling stories to the kids.”
“Like the ones he used to tell us?” Sokka asks.
“Sort of.” Katara shrugs. “I think that they wanted to hear stories about the war this time.”
“Well, I brought dinner.” Sokka gestures to the fish.
“Did you do any hunting?”
“Just fishing this time.” Sokka replies. “I’m going to find dad and let him know that dinner’s here.”
“You do that.” Katara replies. “I’ll be here.”
Sokka takes a final look back at the house before wandering out into the cold again. With any luck, his father will be close buy and he won’t have to search the whole village, not that he has too much ground to cover. The tribe is slowly expanding, growing out into what it should have been had the Fire Nation not attacked. It still has a long way to go.
Sokka stretches his arms. He supposes that it is nice to be home again and to go back to the mundane tasks. Tasks that don’t involve risking his life and running from angsty princes, deadly princesses, and power hungry firelords with questionable title choices. Sokka snickers to himself, “phoenix king.” The whole point of a phoenix is that it’s reborn, he won’t let that one rise again.
From the hillside, he looks off into the tundra. Snow glitters beneath his feet and stars above his head. The land is vast and foreboding but with a beauty like no other. The wind howls, sending a massive flurry down upon him. He imagines that the polar bear dogs and penguins have long since sought shelter.
He can already tell that a storm is abrew and not a soul should be out in it. Muchless the small figure trekking through the snow.
Even from a distance he can tell that she is trembling. She takes a few final stumbling steps before pitching forward. Sokka watches her sink to her knees. And then her cheek meets the snowy ground below.
Sokka spares the warmth and safety of the village a final look before making his way back out and into the snow. His heart seizes, he doesn’t know how he has lost sight of her her already. He listens but the woman makes no sound, not even the faintest cry for help. He calls out. Still she doesn’t answer. He thinks that she must be out colder than the snow itself.
“Come on, where are you?” He mutters aloud. For all of the tracking and hunting he does, he should be able to find her. He scans the ground again, the wind howls in his ears reminding him that he doesn’t have much time.
It could happen in an instant; a complete white out and then finding his way back to the tribe--even at such a short distance--will be hell.
He trudges forward wondering if he should retreat and bring help and then he spies a bright red ribbon. He is glad for the ribbon, he wouldn’t have spotted her otherwise. She lays in a crumpled heap, barely making a sound. Her breathing is dreadfully shallow.
He doesn’t have time to be fully thankful for the ribbon, not with the wind whipping so ferociously. As carefully as he can manage, he scoops her into his arms, her cheek is frigid against his neck. She is shaking violently. Enough to send vibrations through him. He thanks Raava again for the girl is mercifully light. Even still, the snow, deep as it is, makes carrying her a task. He resents having taken his snow shoes off.
He tries not to jar her too much with his footsteps, but he can’t help it with the snow as deep as it is. Every footstep sends a wave of anxiety over him. He can hear Hakoda telling him that too much movement can trigger a heart attack. He hasn’t yet seen it for himself and he doesn’t want to.
By the time he reaches the village he is panting softly and shivering for himself. He takes a moment of pause to catch his breath, watching as his shaky and erratic ones dissipate in the sky.
In the light he can see that her nose and cheeks are red and that snow clings to her lashes and hair. He can’t imagine that his own face looks much different. He takes a deep breath and readjusts his hold on her before making the last stretch of the trek into the house.
“Katara, help me get some blankets out! I don’t know how long she’s been out there for.”
A flicker of confusion crosses Katara’s face before it is replaced by a very vague understanding. “I’ll get them and then I’ll try to find dad.”
Sokka shakes his head. “There’s a big blizzard, dad is going to stay wherever he is and we’re going to stay here until it’s over.” He sets the woman in front of the fire, she stirs just enough to reassure him.
“If he’s outside then…”
“He’s not outside, nobody in the tribe is going to just leave him out there. Worst case, he’s having an awkward dinner with strangers.”
“Sokka, we’ve been through a war, I can handle a snow storm.”
“You can fight Fire Nation soldiers, Katara. But you can’t punch a blizzard.” Softer, more reassuringly he adds, “dad can take care of himself, that’s where you get it from.”
Her own expression softens. “I’m gonna go get those blankets.”
For the time being, Sokka strokes the fire, coaxing it to a brighter, hotter flare. He steals a glance at the woman. It finally has time to settle in just how precarious her condition is. The corner of her mouth is split and bruised and her lower lip is slightly swollen--also bleeding lightly. Carefully he moves some of her hair to find a cut on her brow. She had been in some sort of altercation. Recent too from the prominence of the bruises on her pale skin and the freshness of the blood. He gets the sense that the cold had frozen it before it even had the chance to coagulate.
With the fire blazing to his content, he moves back over to her, her clothing is soaked. He recalls again, Hakoda’s warning to avoid excess movement. As tenderly as he can manage he cuts away her wet clothing and tosses the articles aside. He casts his own wet clothing aside and bundles her back into the blankets already in the room.
He doesn’t know if she is alert enough to hear him but he thinks that it would do well to try, “I’m Sokka. My sister Katara is going to bring you some blankets and maybe some stew.” He pauses. “I guess that I can start on the stew.”
She clutches the blankets tighter to herself, her lips part but the only sound the spills from them is a very weak mumble. He watches her try to sit up, her attempt is clumsy and uncoordinated. “Don’t do that!” He says quickly. “Just lay down and try to warm up.”
He meets her gaze and it dawns upon him that she is Fire Nation. He shudders at the thought of her cheek on his neck; a firebender should never feel that cold. He shudders twice over when he is struck by a sense of familiarity. He steps away from her and into the kitchen with his stomach tying itself into knots.
He gathers a small pot and a few ingredients. Before re-entering the room, he fills the pot with water. The firebender still hasn’t moved much. He fixes the pot over the fire and begins dumping in ingredients for what he hopes will be edible seaweed stew.
“Are you warming up?” He asks. He picks one of her hands up and pulls the mitten off. His stomach lurches again. “C-can you feel you fingers?”
She shakes her head. Her speech is so slurred that he can barely make sense of it. “Not all of them.”
And no wonder, the glove in his hand is torn by the pinky. He guesses that this also happened during whatever skirmish she was involved in. He removes the other glove, this hand is just as icy to the touch. “Can you flex your fingers.” He breathes a sigh of relief when she bunches her hand into a feeble fist and then unclenches them once more. He looks back at her left hand, the fingers on it are redder than her cheeks.
Most of them anyhow.
Her pinky is a sickly blackish-blue.
He has seen it happen enough to know that it is dead.
He doesn’t have the heart to tell her but he has an inkling that she already knows. He watches her nestle her damaged hand against her body.
Sokka retrieves the pot and pours her a bowl of the stew. He helps her sit up. For the longest time, she simply holds her hands above the bowl, letting the steam warm her hands. He hadn’t noticed that Katara had returned.
“She needs clothes.”
Katara nods. “I think that she’ll fit in mine.”
Sokka wraps her up from head to toe. “Here.” He says, he holds out a spoonful of seaweed stew. “Dad always has people eat something warm when this happens. He says that you need to be warm inside and out...or something like that.” He wishes that he would have let Katara find the man. He’d know exactly how to help her.
He manages to feed her a few spoonfuls before her head seems to dip and sag. Slowly, Sokka props her up against the nearest sofa. Her eyes seem to dim, she blinks several times as she fights to keep herself at least semi-awake. He gives her a moment before offering another spoonful.
In closer proximity his speculations become more apparent. It isn’t just her eyes that are familiar to him. It is the shape of her nose and the structure of her cheeks and chin. “Azula?” He asks.
Not that he expects an answer. As soon as her name leaves his lips, her eyes seem to roll back and her body goes limp.
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Holding On to Pieces of Us
Thanks to all you lovelies who took time to tell me what you like about this story. Reviews really do make me smile from ear to ear! @hollyethecurious provided her fab beta skills for this chapter, but of course any and all mistakes are my own. In case we still have to say it, these characters are not mine, I just enjoy playing with them. Go See @spartanguard ‘s lovely art! @kmomof4 thanks for putting together this spectacular CS Supernatural Summer! **I swear on Killian Jones’ Red Vest of SEX that I put a cut/read more line on this chapter.** I tagged a few readers who requested it, or left a kind review. If you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list let me know! Hope you enjoy chapter 2! Edited to include the link to the artwork for chapter 2 by @spartanguard
ao3 ffnet tumblr ch.1
CHAPTER 2
Before Emma was even cognizant of where she was, she threw the car in park. Exiting, she slammed the door behind her and headed out into the vast wilderness. Solace. A place close to her heart. She ran and ran, not sure what she was looking for, she headed deep into the woods, running from everything that was crushing her.
About two years ago...
After months of fighting, bickering, sexual tension, innuendo, finally they’d cut through the bullshit. When they’d realized that they both wanted more than a quick fuck, he’d asked her out on a date. Told her he wanted to court her properly.
“Where are we going?”
“Solace, Swan. Now have patience, you’ll see soon enough.”
She was barely able to sit still, fidgeting nervously as she waited to arrive at their destination. She was elated to spend time with him outside of work, and away from prying eyes.
He chuckled at her, then reached over and squeezed her knee, “Relax, we’re going somewhere peaceful, quiet, just us.”
“I can’t relax. I don’t know… I’m just… happy.”
Killian pulled the car over, then turned in his seat. “Aye love, me too.” Reaching out to caress her cheek he leaned forward and kissed her gently.
“It’s kind of a new feeling at my age, to be happy and excited like a little kid.”
“You say it like you’re eighty years old.”
“I say it like I was a kid who didn’t get happy and excited for too much.”
“Why’s that, lass. Spoiled brat? Stoic teen?”
“Foster kid.” Emma held her breath and waited for his reaction. She fell a little bit in love with him the moment she saw no pity in his eyes, just a mutual understanding.
~♥~
She didn’t recognize where she was, she’d strayed from the path; it wasn’t called the Forest City for nothing, there were thousands of trails, most of them well traversed. It was freezing outside, and drab clouds had begun to roll in. The wind whipped around her, and she cursed under her breath as she looked at the sky. It was going to pour, but what did it matter. She was dying anyhow, maybe hypothermia would take her sooner.
About two years ago...
“It’s beautiful, Killian.” There was awe in her voice, and admiration on her face. “How’d you find it?”
“This is my first time to this specific place. Have you never been hiking in the Forest City? All of the trails have little hidden oases like this.”
Emma shook her head, admittedly she didn’t get to the great outdoors as much as she probably should. It was absolutely breathtaking.
“I try to get out to hike at least once a month. With our job, sometimes I just need the solace of nature around me. You must make sure to always stay on the path though, Swan.”
“Oh, yeah. Why’s that?”
“Rumor has it there’s a portal somewhere in this forest and it leads to a land with all manner of creatures, monsters, and supernatural beings.”
“What is wrong with you?” she laughed. “And here I thought you were an intelligent, well balanced, healthy, red-blooded, male. Now I find out you believe in the boogie man?”
“Oi! I’m all those things, I just have an appreciation for other worldly beings, never say never.”
“What is your proof they exist?”
“What is your proof they don’t?”
“Fair point,” she conceded.
“Plus, you yourself are a siren, what more proof should I require?”
~♥~
Emma shivered uncontrollably as the rain began to cascade down in sheets. Her hair clung to her forehead and her clothes became heavy. She might’ve felt cleansed had she not been told mere hours before that she had a poison running rampant inside her body. Spotting an enclosure in a huge rock, Emma jogged toward it and took cover.
About two years ago...
“Didn’t you check the weather forecast?”
“Of course I did!” Killian answered offendedly. He opened the pack he’d carried up and pulled out a nylon bag. “Let it never be said that Killian Jones is unprepared,” he gloated as he pitched quite possibly the smallest tent Emma had ever seen.
“We’re staying?”
“We’re not walking out in this weather. This darling is a flash flood. We’re on high ground so shelter in this one man tent is all we require. We won’t flood up here.”
“Well it’s gonna have to be a one man and one woman tent, now.”
“After you, milady,” he extended his hand and bowed low.
She snagged his hand and pulled him inside the tent giggling the whole time. It was a crowded affair as Killian dug through his bag of tricks. He pulled out a small battery operated lantern, then set to work rolling out a sleeping bag. They took their shoes off and sat opposite each other.
“Are you a little cold, Swan?”
She looked up at him to see he was leering at her breasts. Her nipples were freezing to the point of painful, and no doubt poking through her soaked cotton shirt. “This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it? Proper courting, my ass.”
Killian licked his lips and continued to appraise her, clothes clinging to her every curve, goosebumps lining her soft skin, lips begging to be tasted. “That would be very bad form, love,” he whispered, though his devil may care grin belied his words.
“What are you waiting for then, Jones? You gonna get your ass over here and warm me up, or let me freeze to death?”
He only needed to be asked once, pouncing on her like prey to his predator.
~♥~
What she wouldn’t give to have that one man tent now. And she’d give double for Killian. She shivered as the wind continued to wail and the torrential rains pelted down. As the adrenaline of running through the forest began to wear off, the emotions began to creep in. I’m dying, she thought. But if she were honest with herself, her spirit had been slowly dying since Killian had disappeared. Trying to accept that he was gone forever, dead, had sent her spiraling into a hallucination riddled existence where she was now seeing him. Maybe this is for the best. Tears welled up in her eyes and she wondered if they were tears of sadness, or tears from the thought that maybe she’d see him again after death.
She laid down on the sodden ground, unwilling to try to find her way out. Out of the forest, out of her dark reality… unwilling to fight against the inevitable. Emma curled in on herself and wished for the world to swallow her up. Sobs trembled through her whole body as she let loose her emotions, all of them. Long, painful cries flowed from her as she unabashedly released everything she’d held in for the past year.
Anger at Killian for leaving her in this world alone.
Heartbreak at having lost the only love she’d ever known.
Hatred at the cancer that was going to ultimately consume her.
She cried until there was nothing left but the harsh, jagged breaths that came from being cried out to exhaustion. She held tightly to the pieces of memory on her chain, letting the bite of the metals pressed into her palm serve as a reminder of what she’d lost.
Emma immediately knew when peaceful sleep had come for her, that she was dreaming, when she heard his gruff lilt scolding her for not taking care of herself. She didn’t even care if it was a dream.
“Killian,” she murmured, “I miss you.” He scooped her up, and she felt like she was home. She needed to tell him so much before he left again. “I love you, Killian.”
~CS~
Emma slowly blinked into consciousness, eyes opening and focusing on unfamiliar surroundings. “What the hell? Where am I?” She looked around the small area from her supine position on the bed. There was a fire burning in a small fireplace, a small table with two chairs, a refrigerator, a couch, and a dimly lit lantern off in a corner. The windows were all covered so she couldn’t tell what time of day it was. Deciding that the need to use the bathroom and get a glass of water outweighed the dull headache she was fighting, she rose from the bed.
After tripping over her clumsy feet on the way to and from the bathroom, she made her way to the tiny kitchen area. She grabbed a glass from the cupboard, filled it from the tap after letting it run for a minute, and drank deeply. Her stomach growled loudly in response to the icy water. Emma felt a bit like Goldilocks, she was invading on whoever lived here, whoever had so kindly pulled her in from the woods after she’d conked out.
It was obvious the place had been occupied recently, perhaps there was fresh food. Emma rummaged around through the few cupboards, to no avail. Since there was no porridge cooking for this Goldilocks, she made her way to the refrigerator. Placing her hand to pull it open, she paused, it felt like an invasion to open a stranger’s fridge.
About a year and a half ago...
“You look good in my shirt, love. Perhaps you should start dressing that way everyday?”
Emma was bent over his refrigerator, in his shirt and nothing else, looking for something to snack on. All the activity they’d been engaging in had her ravenous. “I’m starving,” she said, ignoring the compliment save for the blush it’d put on her cheeks.
“Me too,” he growled grabbing her around the waist and pulling her against his hard body. He nipped and sucked at her neck roughly, “I’ll always be starving for you.”
Emma moaned as he caressed her body with his hands and mouth. “Baby, you can have your fill anytime, but I was actually speaking of food right now.”
“I know, darling.” Killian picked her up and sat her on the counter. “Allow me to prepare you something.”
~♥~
Emma sighed morosely as yet another memory assaulted her. Bitter, bittersweet memories, mourning, and impending death, how much longer did the doctor say I had? Emma thought. At least now she wouldn’t have to wonder how long it would take to get over Killian. The answer was she’d never be over him, not until the day she died, and that was now remarkably closer.
Her stomach growled again, pulling her from her well deserved melancholy. Looking at her watch, which told her it was three in the afternoon, she realized she’d slept almost an entire day. It’d been even longer since she’d eated, and there was no way she wanted to try to venture back to her car without eating a little something first. Surely this stranger who’d brought her in wouldn’t mind her nibbling a little something before she took her leave.
Opening the door, Emma screamed and slammed it shut. “What the fuck!” Peering inside once more she confirmed what she’d seen the first time. Piled inside the refrigerator was nothing but bag after bag of blood. Closing it quietly, Emma turned and tiptoed to the front door. Macabre thoughts of a psycho killer harvesting her organs and drinking her blood swam through her head as she inched toward the door. Who knew if this crazy was still in the cabin.
“Goddammit!” she muttered when she tripped again. All pretense was forgotten when she regained her balance, yanking the front door open, she took off running into the forest. Emma didn’t try to glean any sense of direction as the only thought in her head was self preservation?
Sharp branches caught at her clothes and scratched her skin as she continued running. Each heaving breath became more painful than the last the further she ran. She was running out of steam.
“Ouch!” Emma stumbled to the ground after her foot came down on a rock buried under the foliage. Falling to the ground she grabbed her ankle in pain. “Fuck, what the fuck else? Huh? What else you wanna throw my way?” she screamed toward the darkening evening sky. Picking herself up, she continued limping away from the cabin of horrors. With no idea where she was heading, shooting ankle pain, the elements setting in, not to mention her already established problems, Emma was about to give up. “Cell phone!” she exclaimed, digging in the pocket of her jacket.
“What the hell?” Looking down at herself it dawned on Emma that she wasn’t wearing her jacket anymore, or even the same clothes she’d had on yesterday. Even more confusing was the fact that they were her clothes, just not the same ones. I’ve completely lost it, I’ve gone off the deep end. Emma Swan, loony tune.
She tried to cheer herself up as she continued to limp on what was surely a severely swollen ankle, by telling herself that her phone probably wouldn’t have a signal anyway. She walked for what felt like miles when she came to a stream and sat down next to it. Looking at her reflection she decided to drink the water, “What’s the worst that’ll happen? Already dying, may as well drink up.” She scooped the water and drank to soothe her parched throat.
“This is the end,” Emma said, deciding she could be as dramatic as she damn well pleased. “I’m tired, hurt, cold, sick, sad, hungry, lost… alright universe. You’ve won. I give up.”
Laying back on the damp forest floor she looked up at the trees, she could see bits of the dark sky peeking through. A few tears welled in her eyes, and she chuckled at the irony. Usually giving up meant not caring anymore. Apparently Emma Swan still cared. Spotting the first star of the evening she focused intently, “Star light, star bright, First star I see tonight; I wish I may, I wish I might, Have the wish I wish tonight.”
Squeezing her eyes tightly, Emma made a wish.
“What’d you wish for, love?”
Inhaling audibly, Emma jumped in her spot. She hadn’t heard that voice in… well since she’d dreamed it a few hours ago. “Dammit. I wished it wrong.” She jumped again at the loud laughter that came from him. He seemed so real.
“How so?”
“Well, I wished to be with Killian, uh, with you.”
“And here I am.”
“I meant to wish to be with you forever, after I die. Not in dreams and hallucinations.”
“When you die?”
Emma shook her head at the surreal feeling. “I cannot believe I am sitting here having a conversation with the hallucination form of the love of my life. Or… have I died? Am I dead? Did the psycho from the house of horrors kill me already? Did I die last night in the freezing rain? Are you here to guide me to the next dimension or realm or whatever it’s called?”
The hallucination laughed at her again, and she found herself laughing along with the familiar, and sorely missed sound.
“Maybe I can answer some of your questions, lass. Where to start?” He rubbed his palm along the scruff of his chin like he always did when he was contemplating something. “First off, no, you’re not dead. I am not here to lead you to another plain of existence or anything like that. And I do believe I am the psycho from the house of horrors, as you called it.”
Emma sat up quickly, “What do you mean?”
“What if I told you I am your Killian, and I am real?”
“I’d say my imagination is a cruel fucking asshole.”
“I’m not from your imagination, Swan.”
“Stop it! Only the real Killian gets to call me that.” The hollow feeling in her chest and heart ached now. Only he had ever called her Swan like that. This was torturous, having her own imagination play tricks on her. “I’ve been seeing you for the last year, you’ve never said a word, the real Killian never would have done that.” Emma pinched herself hard, trying to wake herself, or snap out of the haze.
“You can pinch yourself all you want, but I assure you, you’re not dreaming, and you are not hallucinating.”
“Prove it.”
Emma sat frozen as he walked toward her then sat down next to her. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. She relished the feeling of him, she could smell him, this was by far the realest of any encounter she’d had with him over the past year.
“Would you be able to feel me? Smell me?”
“Maybe,” Emma murmured. “The mind is a powerful entity.”
“Then perhaps this,” he said holding her bracelet out to her, “I know you’re wearing the matching necklace, my necklace.”
Emma jumped up, and Killian followed suit. Sure any rendering of Killian would know about the necklace and bracelet, her mind conjured him. But how the hell was he holding the bracelet that was on her wrist. Automatically reaching for her wrist, she realized it wasn’t there anymore. She stared at him with wide eyes.
“Please don’t be afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid, I’m just confused. Where did you get that?”
He reached out to fasten the bracelet around her wrist. “It fell off where I found you passed out and half frozen last evening.”
Emma hesitantly reached out to touch his face, “Is it really you?”
“Aye Swan, in the flesh... so to speak.”
“Killian?” She threw her arms around his neck and cried, but the tears weren’t of sadness this time. She cried tears of joy as she rained kisses on his face.
“What… how are you here?”
“I was-”
“I don’t care. I don’t care how you’re here. I’m just glad you’re here.”
“Me too, love. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Taking her by the hand he started to lead her back the way she’d come from, then stopped. “You’re hurt, allow me.” Killian picked her up bridal style so she wouldn’t have to walk on her bad ankle.
“It’s really you, isn’t it?” she whispered.
“Aye.”
Emma broke down into sobs. “I… Killian… where have you been? Why did you leave me?”
“I’ll explain everything. First, let’s get you warmed up.”
She hit his chest in frustration as a new pain came over her. “I’m… I’m dying. I finally found you, and now I’m dying. The universe wanted to kick me one last time.”
“Emma, calm down, I’ve got you, you’re not going to die out here. There is much we need to talk about. Working yourself up won’t help.” Killian looked into her eyes, beseeched her, “Rest, love, I’ll wake you when we arrive.”
She was out before she could argue about needing to stay awake so he wouldn’t disappear again.
~CS~
When she woke next, she was in yet another unfamiliar place. “Killian?” she called out into the darkness.
“I’m here, Swan.”
She looked across the small room to where he sat at a desk reading.
“I thought it was all a dream again.”
“I assure you, I am not a dream. Possibly a nightmare, but not a dream.”
“What?”
“Never mind, lass. I know you have many questions, and I have a lot of explaining to do. I want to attempt to tell you everything right now, that way you have all the information before you make a decision.”
“A decision about what?”
“About whether or not you wish to stay with me.”
“I’ll stay with you forever. My forever just isn’t that long anymore… I’m dying.”
“Why do you keep saying you’re dying?”
“Because I am. I was diagnosed with stage four brain cancer the day I wandered into the woods. I don’t have long, but I’ve already decided, I don’t care how short the time, I want to be with you.”
“Oh, Emma, no my love, I’m so sorry I haven’t been here for you. That you had to receive that news on your own.”
“It was harder to lose you. So no matter what you have to say, I’m not going to change my mind.”
“Please let me tell you everything before you decide. I don’t want to get my hopes up if you decide you can’t bear to be with me.”
Emma rolled her eyes at him, “Not gonna happen.”
“Be that as it may, allow me to put my eternal soul at ease.”
"Well at least come keep me warm?” she asked, patting the empty bed.
A pained expression crept across Killian’s face. “After we talk.”
“Okay,” Emma agreed, pulling the blanket snugger to her body. “Have you met someone else, Killian? Were you with someone else this whole time?” She knew the questions seemed out of the blue, but he had left for a year, reappeared, hadn’t so much as kissed her, wouldn’t sit with her, and was acting altogether odd.
“Of course not! I love only you, I’m just not sure you should love me anymore.”
“No one tells me who I should or should not love, Killian Jones, not even you.”
He chuckled at that, and Emma smiled in return, glad to see him a bit more at ease.
“Okay, so enough with the cloak and dagger act, just tell me what you need to tell me.”
“Christ you make it sound simple.” Killian ran his hand through his hair nervously and bounced the ball of his foot.
“It is simple!” she coaxed with a hopeful smile, trying to convince him to tell her whatever secret he thought he’d had to hide for a year.
“I’m a vampire.”
Emma laughed, not just a little, but really bellowed. She clutched at her stomach when it started to ache. “Spectacular ice breaker, now go ahead.”
Killian threw his hands in the air, unsurprised that she didn’t believe that curve ball. “Right then. The day that you stayed home sick while Mary Margaret, David, and I went hiking, I was attacked.”
Emma’s laughter stopped when he unceremoniously plunged into his story.
“We were heading up toward Cartographer’s Bluff, I was in front of the lovebirds, for obvious reasons, when I saw movement off in the distance. I followed thinking maybe it was a deer or elk. That’s when it happened. I had no idea what it was. It attacked and dragged me away.”
Silent tears slid down Emma’s cheeks as she listened to Killian.
“I don’t know how long I was unconscious for, but when I came to the first time, I was overwhelmed with fire coursing through my body. I was disoriented, scared, and angry. I was in and out of consciousness and each time there was a woman who told me I’d be okay. When I finally emerged from whatever had taken hold over me, I was different. I didn’t know how at first, but I knew I was different. Eventually the woman revealed herself again, she told me she’d teach me everything about our kind.”
“Your kind?”
Killian eyeballed her, silently pleading with her to let him finish, lest he chicken out.
“Sorry, continue,” she said softly.
“She taught me how to survive, took me into her home, this home. Eventually she wanted more from me, she wanted things I couldn’t give. I told her about you, hoping she’d understand that while I appreciated all she’d done for me, my heart belonged to you.
She became enraged. Said she couldn’t believe I would choose a mortal over her, after all she’d done for me. After creating me. When I asked her what she meant, she told me she’d made me, she had wanted a companion after being alone for decades.”
Emma’s breath was stuck in her throat as Killian’s story took root, as she began to understand exactly what he was telling her.
“I went into my own tailspin of rage, I couldn’t believe what she was telling me, that she’d selfishly taken and changed my life to suit hers. That she’d irrevocably changed my future, our future, Swan. When she threatened you, I had no other choice.”
“What choice,” Emma asked hesitantly when Killian paused.
“I… I killed her, Emma.” He looked at her in earnest, willing her to accept the truth of his words. “She left me no choice, I couldn’t stand the thought of your life ending.”
“Oh, Killian,” Emma cried. She stood up, not caring that he wanted to wait until after she’d heard him out. She couldn’t handle seeing him in pain any longer. Kneeling on the floor in front of where he sat in his chair, she reached a hand up to run through his hair. “Killian, it’s okay.”
“I’m a murderer, Swan. Whether she deserved it or not, whether all of them deserved it or not, I am a murderer.”
“I don’t care, I love you, no matter what.”
“I love you, too.” Killian slid from his chair kneeling as she was and closed his arms around her waist.
Emma comforted him as he buried his head in the crook of her neck. “It was you, wasn’t it? It was you who drained all my murderers? Is that what you meant by all of them?”
“Aye, lass. Still sharp as ever.” Killian stood up, lifted Emma and walked to the bed. Tucking her beneath the blanket, he stayed atop it, and laid his head in her lap. “It was the evening after I killed her, three months into my new life, and the urge to see you was so strong it physically hurt. I closed my eyes and I remember thinking about what it was like to hold you, what you felt like, smelled like, then suddenly I wasn’t in my room anymore. When I opened my eyes, there you were. I didn’t know how I’d done it, but I’d transported to you. I heard you say my name, Swan. It was the best moment of my new existence. Then I saw you collapse, I heard the pain in your voice, and it became the worst.”
She’d missed this, laying together, touching, talking. This was by far the strangest conversation they’d ever had, but she was okay with it, she was just overjoyed to have him back. Emma had been running her fingers through his hair, but stopped abruptly. “Is that why you stayed away for so long?”
“It is.”
“Why did you come back?” she asked out of genuine curiosity, before resuming her ministrations.
“Because I’m weak. Once I learned I could transport, I started studying your cases at the station during the night. The first time you saw me was at the crime scene of my maker’s last victim. For all her evil, it’s a smart way to live. I decided I’d wait for you to solve your cases, then take your murderers. They would be condemned anyhow. I never meant for you to spot me. I selfishly needed to see you, and there were many times that I did, and you never had a clue. But then there were those times that you did, the last time was the hardest. I watched you that night after you drank and cried yourself to sleep, and I vowed it was the last time. That was until you quite literally showed up in my neck of the woods, intent on freezing to death while passed out in the pouring rain.”
“Is that how I ended up in my own clothes? You transported home to get them.”
He nodded his head with a grin on his face. Home. Emma was catching on quickly and adapting quite easily.
“What about Scarlet, was that you assisting?”
Killian chuckled, “Yes, that was me. I would love to see that shiny commendation you earned.”
“I didn’t earn it, you did. David and I fought for weeks about who did and didn’t take Scarlet out. I finally gave up when he half jokingly threatened to 5150 me.”
“Sorry, love, I was just trying to keep you safe.”
“I know,” she spoke softly. “So…”
“Ask away, I want you to know everything before you choose. Anything goes.”
Emma had thousands of thoughts swimming around in her head. The problem was, when there are that many thoughts, and so much that is not understood it is hard to even know where to begin. She tried to sort through them to ask the pertinent ones first. “What do you need to survive?”
“I wasn’t joking when I said I am vampire. Surprisingly many of our television shows got enough of the bits and pieces correct, must be some vamps in Hollywood.” Killian stood up and walked toward her, then held his hand out.
Taking his hand without hesitation, Emma let him lead her to a closet. When he opened the door there was a ladderwell. Looking at Killian’s calm face, cocked eyebrow, and inquisitive eyes, she read in his expression the request for her to trust him. And she did, implicitly. He climbed up first and Emma followed.
“Hey, my ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, do you have magical healing powers?”
When they emerged in the room above, Killian closed the small hatch in the floor. “I’m not sure I’d call what I have magical, but yes, I fixed you up.”
“That’s a pretty handy skill,” she commented as she looked around. She was surrounded by a place she’d been before. “So this is what I tripped on like fifty times earlier today,” Emma said, pointing to the handle of the hatch door they’d just come through. “The house of horrors,” she murmured, eyeballing the familiar room. Her clothes from yesterday were laid out in front of the fire, and her phone was plugged in.
Killian chuckled, “I suppose, but why do you call it that? I thought I did a pretty nice job of making it look as though a vampire does not live here.”
“Next time keep the blood in your downstairs hideaway,” she deadpanned.
“Ah, so you saw that. That’s what I was going to show you, that is what I subsist on.”
“Only blood?”
“Aye.”
“Do you want my blood?”
Killian’s eyes widened and his pupils visibly dilated all at the same time. He raised his hand to scratch nervously behind his ear. “Aye,” he whispered hoarsely. “Does that scare you? Disgust you?”
Emma stepped into his space. “Nothing about you scares me, or disgusts me. But will my blood poison you? Because of the cancer.”
“I’m immune to human disease as I’m not human anymore, I’m not even alive.”
She placed her hands on his hips and fixed him with what she hoped was her most assured expression. “Then drink,” she offered, craning her neck for his perusal.
Killian grabbed her hands in his and brought them between their bodies. He hung his head and inhaled deeply. “Gods, Swan. You’ll be the death of my undead soul.”
“What’s wrong?” Emma stepped back, feeling the sting of his rejection.
“I want to, believe me, I want to. But I need you to be sure. I need you to take more than a few minutes. Weigh your options.”
“What options, Killian?” She was growing incensed with his failure to understand that all she wanted was to spend the rest of her days with him. “I can live and die alone, or live and die with you, it’s a no-fucking-brainer. Why won’t you let me choose it?”
“I know it’s hard for you to understand, but I need to know that you’ve considered everything I am saying. I would never forgive myself if you regretted one moment of what we share from now until…”
“Until I die,” she finished for him.
“Well, not necessarily. If you’d let me finish you stubborn wench.”
Emma scoffed, then zipped her lips.
“I can offer you forever.”
“Forever,” she repeated, then asked, “how can you offer me forever?”
“I can make you immortal.”
Emma’s breath hitched in her throat. It was one thing to be standing in front of a vampire, it was another ball game to consider becoming one. She didn’t know a damn thing about vampiring. She barely knew how to be human anymore.
“What about…”
“That’s why I don’t want your answer tonight. I want you to think over the what abouts, and the what ifs. Right now you’ve been missing for just over a full day, everyone is worried about you. I need you to go back to Mary Margaret and David. Think on everything love.”
“No, I don’t want to leave you!” Emma’s voice was panicky as the thought of being separated overwhelmed her. “I just found you again, please, don’t leave.”
“I don’t have to, I can be with you at night. During the day of course, I can’t.”
“What really happens if you’re out in the sunlight?”
“Can’t say that I’ve tried, just out of fear of spontaneously combusting,” he chuckled despite the morbid thought. “According to my maker, we don’t just explode, or melt at first exposure to the sun. It would take a few minutes, and if we were completely clothed and covered, maybe even a little longer. One of the benefits of living out here in Forest City is most of the year it offers a good enough cover of foliage during the daytime. That is one of the things you’d have to consider, Swan. You’d never be able to bask in sunlight, no more beach days.”
Emma stepped back toward him, and she saw the way his face contorted with pleasure and pain. “Killian, I don’t care about any of that,” she wrapped her arms around his neck and carded a hand through his hair, then continued, “I care about you.”
“And I you,” Killian whispered resting his forehead against hers.
“Can I… can I kiss you?”
“Emma,” he groaned. “I-”
Before he could say another word Emma pressed her lips to his. Innocently, only a chaste thing, followed by small pecks to his lips. “Just as soft as I remember.” She pulled her head back and licked her lips as if savoring his taste. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Killian’s eyes were transfixed on her, blue as always, but significantly paler than they’d been before. “Love, I think you should go now.”
“I thought you said we could be together at night?”
“I thought I was strong enough to be around you, Emma. But right now I’m walking a thin line between man and monster, and I’m asking you to let me take you home.”
“What do you need? You can drink in front of me, from me if you want.”
“I’m having a hard time with how close you are, how intoxicating you smell, how divine I know you’ll taste.” He broke from their embrace and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Christ, this is not how I pictured it.”
Emma smiled at the chagrin in his voice, he was embarrassed. “There’s a perk of being a vampire, you don’t blush like you used to. Although, I always found it cute.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying my turmoil.”
Flipping her hair away from her neck she sauntered toward Killian. “There’d be no turmoil if you’d just drink. I promise, it’s okay with me, I… I want you to… taste me.”
Killian growled as he pinned her with a hard stare, his jaw clenched and released as he weighed her words. “You always were a damn stubborn woman.”
Emma’s eyes dilated as he swooped down on her and pulled her against his body. She welcomed his mouth to hers as he kissed her, not chastely like a moment ago. The feel of his tongue against hers for the first time in a year was enough to bring tears back to her eyes. “Yes, babe, take what you need.” She heard a click and froze when she felt the sharp protrusion against her lip.
“Sorry love, did I cut you?”
Emma giggled at his worry. “I’d think you would know just as quickly as me, given your new tastes.”
“Fair point, but did I hurt you?”
“No, Killian. Stop worrying.” Emma rolled her eyes at him, he was vampire and still more chivalrous than all the men she’d ever known.
“I missed that eye roll, believe it or not.”
Emma rolled her eyes again just for his benefit. Palming his cheeks, she rubbed a thumb over one of his fangs. Her eyes swirled with wonder as she felt the long, sharp, porcelain weapon, and the broken groan that escaped Killian did not go unnoticed. Shivering, she contemplated why she was turned on in this moment. Should she be afraid? Appalled? She was anything but as she gazed at Killian and his fangy smile. “You’re so goddamn gorgeous. Come here.”
Emma led him to the large plush recliner in the corner of the room. Pushing him into the seat, she followed him down sitting in his lap, then resumed kissing him. She explored his mouth with her tongue, including running it from top to tip of each fang. She relished the pained whimpers that Killian emitted. Breaking the kiss, Emma tilted her head to the side and guided his lips to her neck. “Drink.”
Killian kissed her gently, one hand on the back of her neck massaging, and the other around her waist. He nipped and sucked at her jawline then toward her ear, before settling at her jugular vein. He inhaled deeply, and just about purred as he exhaled his shaky breath. “Are you-”
“Do not fucking ask me if I am sure one more time, Killian Jones. Yes, I’m sure,” she cut him off. She was ready for it, impatient even.
Her words were all the invitation Killian needed.
Emma called out his name at the shock of the intrusion, it wasn’t painful, it was… it was magical. She felt a thrumming run the length of her body, she felt lit up from head to toe, like she was vibrating.
When he finally pulled deeply from her vein she didn’t recognize the high pitched moan that escaped her lips. She’d never been into porn star noise making, but goddamn, it felt so good, she felt alive, rejuvenated even though she was the one giving. She felt it everywhere, including there; gingerly maneuvering so that she could straddle his lap, Emma immediately felt that he was as turned on as she was.
“Fuck,” he growled against her neck. “Forgive me, love.”
Before Emma could register what there possibly was to forgive, she had the sensation of falling, flying, and floating all at once. Her brain was foggy, body weightless, and her heart hammered in her chest. “Killian?”
“I promise love, I will come for you tomorrow night.”
“Killian, wait! Don’t leave me.” Emma’s eyes welled with tears as she realized she was in her bedroom, sitting on top of the bed she hadn’t slept in since he’d... “No,” she cried into the silence of her room. It had been so real. She stood up off the bed, shivering at how it seemed even emptier than it had for the last year, and trudged to the couch, too distraught to even grab the bottle of rum before curling up under her blanket and crying until she fell asleep.
Tagging @onceuponaprincessworld @teamhook @artistic-writer @winterbaby89 @courtorderedcake @jarienn972 @therooksshiningknight @ultraluckycatnd @cssns
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Heartbeat- Robstar Week Day 7
*flops over* I am finally done with this piece and only a day late for Robstar week! I’ve had this idea for a while now and I decided to kick it out for such a special occasion. I hope you enjoy it!
~
Summertime in Jump City was a mixed bag at times. Lounging on the beach and spending all day swimming in the ocean was relaxing for the Titans in between battles that left them sweating profusely. The flavorful iced drinks that Cyborg concocted was best enjoyed when the days were too hot for even stepping outside.
During a particularly intense heat wave, Robin resorted to wearing casual clothing when at the Tower. Having little air circulation thanks to his black collar left him sweltering, testing his body’s endurance to the scorching heat. Having spent his younger years in Bludhaven, he had grown accustomed to cooler, milder temperatures. While the ocean did provide some relief, California temperatures inevitably rose. The city seemed to slow as no villains enacted any nefarious plans for the past several days. Robin was relieved at this as the Titans, himself included, preferred to pass through the heat wave at a sluggish pace without any strenuous activity.
When Red Star called them and asked for assistance in Russia about an unexplainable snowstorm, Robin immediately volunteered himself to go. Seeing some snow in the summer could be refreshing, despite the possible threat the storm held. Beast Boy started openly complaining about this decision, but then quieted down with a mischievous glint in his eye, saying something about an indoor water slide under his breath.
Robin gave him a side-glance, making a mental note to double check the Tower’s water damage insurance. Red Star then politely asked the Titans if two of them could assist his team, as they were stretched thin across the continent. He also noted that someone who could fly would be best as they could traverse the continent faster.
The boys turned to Starfire and Raven simultaneously. Raven patted Starfire’s shoulder.
“Here’s your flier,” Raven said. “I’m not in the mood to lose my toes to frostbite in July.”
With that decided, the two Titans immediately set a course for Russia with the T-Ship. After some detective work on Robin’s end, they eventually tracked down a facility where a new villain dubbed Eclipser was hiding. Upon sneaking in, the Titans found that her storm machine was generating unnatural wind currents to cover half of Russia in intense blizzards, allowing her to sneak into multitudes of national banks with minimal police interference.
Seeing an opportune moment when her back was turned, the Titans disabled the machine and attempted to nab Eclipser. The villain was true to her name, as she was extremely skilled at creating darkness to slink in, namely through pellets that emitted dark mist and killing the lights with an emergency power shutdown protocol. Robin nearly had her, as he was skilled in navigating the night from his time in Gotham, but Eclipser managed to dart away on her impressively silent hover car.
With the machine down, the wind currents would eventually die down, but there was still a villain to catch. The Titans rushed back to the T-Ship and followed in her wake. Navigating deeper into the blizzard, they closed in on the speeding hover car and managed to take out the engine. Touching down, the Titans could hardly believe their eyes when Eclipser was nowhere in sight.
“We cannot let her escape! I shall go this way. The two of you that way,” Redstar commanded.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to split up? The blizzard hasn’t gone down yet,” Robin questioned.
“This storm is fairly mild, you will have no problem finding your way,” Redstar said confidently. “If the storm keeps up, then return to the ship and take shelter.”
“If we are quick, we are certain to find her,” Starfire agreed. She and Robin shared a look. Normally they would hesitate to take such a risk. However, if Redstar had confidence that they would make it through this storm, then they had little to fear. He knew which storms were untraversable and which were manageable. And besides, as long as Robin and Starfire were together, they would find a way through.
“I’ll mark the location of the T-Ship on our communicators. Meet back here if he can’t find her. Good luck,” Robin said. Starfire grabbed hold of his arms and took to the air.
Even with two pairs of eyes searching, the Titans couldn’t find a trace of Eclipser. For all they knew, her dark outfit could have blended in with the scraggly trees or the rocky terrain they were passing by. In a moment, the freezing winds went from barely tolerable to whipping strong.
A burst of wind hit Starfire’s side, sending the Titans spinning uncontrollably in the air. Starfire’s grip unfailingly held Robin, but her flight pattern was severely hampered, as she was barely able to straighten her flight pattern.
“Should we head back? The storm is growing stronger here,” Starfire managed, barely able to keep her eyes open.
“It looks like it’s moving back towards the T-Ship. We could try, but we might not make it back in these conditions,” Robin grunted, the winds chilling his very bones. Starfire turned to fly back towards the T-Ship, but the winds refused to let up on the heroes. Robin kept his eyes pointed downward to lessen the wind buffeting into them.
“Wait, Starfire land down there!”
“Is it the Eclipser?”
“No, but it’s the next best thing.”
Listening to him, Starfire brought them down, finding herself at the face of a rocky hill. Despite the dark of the storm, she was able to make out what Robin had somehow spotted.
“We can take shelter in this cave for now. It’s not ideal, but the storm’s getting too strong and this will keep us both out of the wind. We can keep searching when the storm lets up,” Robin explained, treading inside to check for any resting bears. “Let’s just hope we don’t have any residents in here.”
Starfire nearly missed how Robin began to instinctively hold his limbs closer to his body, his breath curling around him in a frosty swirl. While he wasn’t shivering yet, thanks to his signature parka, hypothermia was a very real risk in an icy cave.
“If this storm is to continue, then perhaps we should build a fire,” she suggested, her tone filled with concern.
“Good idea. Go ahead and grab one of those trees. We’ll use the branches for firewood and the trunk to block wind from coming in,” Robin said, already imagining the warmth of the flames.
Robin proceeded to make a call to Redstar to let them know what their situation was, reassuring Redstar that he couldn’t have known the conditions given how unpredictable Eclipser had made them out to be. In the meantime, Starfire made work up uprooting a nearby tree and snapping off the larger branches. Setting the trunk to partially block the cave entrance, Robin used his birdarang to chop the branches into enough acceptably shaped logs to last them through the night. Arranging a neat firepit towards the back of the cave, Starfire heated the kindling with a stationary starbolt. Within minutes, a fire was blazing, bringing a soft glow to the dreary cave.
Robin, seated on the cave floor, leaned close into the fire. His breathing began to shudder, even with the warmth his parka provided him. Attempting to generate heat, Robin ran his hands up and down his arms. The cold wouldn’t kill him, especially since the cave shielded them from the wind, but that didn’t make the freezing temperatures any more pleasant.
If it’s not the sun trying to wear me down, it’s snow in summer. Go figure, Robin chuckled inwardly. He looked up to catch Starfire watching him. She had noticed his shivering.
“Heh. I-i-it must be nice t-to be temperature resilient,” Robin chattered, trying to make light of the situation. He cringed at how obvious his shivering was.
“It is most useful in times such as this, but you do not have this ability,” Starfire noted.
“My a-adrenaline is wearing down from chasing that lady. And I think I got a little too used to the summer heat back in Jump,” Robin said. “I’ll be alright. The fire will do the job.”
At this, Starfire gave Robin a questioning look. A few long moments passed between them. Before Robin could open his mouth, Starfire stood up and walked over to her boyfriend.
“What are you-?” Robin started before becoming completely flustered. Starfire had seated herself directly behind him, stretching her legs around him so that he was practically sitting in her lap. Gently she draped her arms over his and nestled her head between his shoulder and cheek. Robin could have sworn his face turned pink at this intimacy.
“Perhaps the source of the fire would be more effective at warming you?” she suggested, some cheekiness in her tone. Beyond embarrassed, Robin could hardly get a response out.
“You’re probably right. . .”
Sensing his slight discomfort, Starfire lifted her head to turn to him more fully.
“Is this comfortable for you?” she asked.
“This is fine for me.” It wasn’t as if he and Starfire hadn’t spooned before. It was only that. . .
“Just, I’m typically the one who’s sitting behind you. It’s just a little different having you be the big spoon,” he supposed. Robin relaxed and rested his back into Starfire, growing more comfortable with their current position.
“Different in what way? This position is certainly unusual for us, but I am guessing that you are referring to something else,” Starfire questioned. The Tamaranean had an inkling that Robin was thinking about an Earthen custom that she had yet to learn. The two were normally in sync with one another’s thoughts, but understanding one another’s customs was always a work in progress.
“Well, I’m just used to being the one who you’re cuddled up to, rather than the other way around,” Robin attempted, knowing his explanation didn’t make much sense.
“Are you suggesting that it is normally the male in a relationship that initiate such physical contact?” Starfire offered, remembering what she had learned from her many nights of watching romantic comedies with Cyborg.
“Kind of. I know that you’re the one who initiates more and I really like that about you. It definitely helped us to get together,” Robin smiled at her, flashes of their first kiss coming back to him. “I’m more talking about being in the more vulnerable person here. You’re the one protecting me right now.”
“Oh! You feel displaced by being protected as to being the protector,” Starfire connected the dots. “I have been informed that the boyfriend is the one with the role of protecting his girlfriend.”
Robin chuckled. Starfire had been on Earth for over 3 years now, much shorter than Robin’s entire lifespan, and yet she could pick up on these customs faster than he could verbalize them.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that you’re helping me stay warm. And it’s not like we don’t go out of our way to look after each other. I’m just still getting used to letting you protect me when there’s not much I can do to help you right now,” Robin explained honestly. The Boy Wonder simply didn’t want to let his girlfriend down and give off the impression that he was weak. Robin’s rational side told him that Starfire was proud of his strengths and there was no shame in letting her help as she had done many times before. There was still that niggling anxiety that he wanted to be honest with her about. The sooner he expressed such fears, the sooner he could confront and defeat them.
Despite these anxieties, Robin felt a sense of calm knowing that Starfire was with him through this storm.
“Oh Robin, you have protected me by locating this cave when the storm would not allow for travel. You have fulfilled your role, dear boyfriend. Now allow me to fulfill mine,” she said softly, her warmth pouring over Robin. She rested her head on Robin’s shoulder once more, snuggling into him.
“I suppose that’s fair,” Robin chuckled lightly.
Taking Starfire’s hands in his own, he wrapped her arms gently around his chest. The two pressed their cheeks together, smiling at their closeness. Sighing contently, the two basked in the glow of the fire and the warmth of each other’s company. Even though a cave in the heart of a blizzard wasn’t the most ideal cuddling spot, the pair was relieved for that they could gain quality time out of a difficult mission. Thanks to the recent decrease in crime, the two had been able to spend many lazy evenings together at the Tower. Unfortunately, their disgruntled teammates had more than once walked in on their romantic time in the past month.
Most often, Cyborg would catch them kissing in unusual spots around their home and often told them to ‘go that mushy stuff elsewhere’. He was probably rejoicing that they were out of the Tower for the time being so he could get some peace of mind.
Speaking of which . . .
“Hey Star?”
“Hmm?” she let out, breaking out of the trance that the warmth of the fire and Robin’s closeness had on her.
“You know, my face still feels a little cold,” Robin started as he turned to face her. She placed a hand on his cheek to check, concerned.
“They to have warmed sufficiently,” she said, somewhat confused.
His heart fluttered for a moment before he leaned in unexpectedly. Starfire understood in but a moment and smiled as his lips met hers. She blushed for a moment as he pulled away slowly, a giddy smile on her face.
“You wish for me to warm the face that you claim to be cold?” she asked slyly.
Robin smiled and whispered, “If you’d rather leave it cold. . .”
Starfire took his cheek in her hand, her eyelids lowering.
“I would rather not.”
She pulled him into a gentle and tender kiss. The pace was slow at first, the two softly pressing their lips together. Then, turning his body, Robin draped his arms around her waist and rested his hands on the small of her back. The two melted and Starfire clasped the front of his parka and pulled him close. There was a slight urgency, but the underlying gentleness remained. They kissed in the glow of the fire for some time until they broke apart slowly.
Starfire kept her hand curled on his cheek as she whispered, “You were correct.”
“That I wanted you to warm me up?” Robin smirked.
“Yes, but also that your face was somewhat cold.”
Robin moved his hand to run it rhythmically through her fiery hair, wishing that he could take off his glove to appreciate the soft texture.
“Well, I’d say that we’re both pretty warm now.”
“Agreed. We should be stranded together on more occasions. I thoroughly enjoy these moments alone with you,” she sighed contently.
As she expressed her enjoyment, she reached down to lift Robin’s legs over to one side so that he was seated more comfortably in her lap. Nodding to herself, Starfire happily leaned her head into Robin’s shoulder and the two held each other close. Their breathing soon aligned perfectly.
“Where should we strand ourselves next? I can easily arrange it,” Robin teased.
“Perhaps a location not as hostile as this,” she said, gesturing the wind still howling outside.
“But the weather’s a great excuse to separate from the team,” he pointed out jokingly. Starfire snickered at his silliness. Before they had started dating, Robin would have never made light of such a scenario. Starfire prided herself in being able to bring out Robin’s more normal teenage side compared to his domineering leader side.
“You are the leader. Can you not simply send them elsewhere?” she said, waggling her oval eyebrow.
“That’d be too easy. And obvious. I don’t want Cyborg and Beast Boy getting too jealous of having you to myself.” At this, Robin tightened his grip around her in a mockingly possessive manner, making Starfire giggle. Those boys loved Starfire like a sister and totally meant it when they, mainly Cyborg, told Robin to treat Starfire right.
“Raven can- what is the phrase- ‘keep them in line’.” Pulling her hand to her mouth to politely cover yawn at said phrase.
“I’m sure she’ll have no problem with that. I don’t think that blizzard is going to let up soon. We should get some sleep so we’ll have energy in the morning,” Robin suggested. It had been a long day of traveling and staking out for the two and a nap was desperately needed.
“Rest is most welcome,” Starfire said sleepily. “Oh! Shall we lay on your cape?”
Robin froze, his face going cold again.
“What?”
“Are we not sleeping together?
“We are?!” he squeaked, pulling back. While he was more than happy to kiss her again should she desire it, asking her to sleep with him never crossed his mind. What shocked him even more was that she was the one suggesting it. Robin knew full well that Starfire wasn’t as innocent as she seemed, but it was difficult to shake that impression of her at times.
“We will need to sleep together to sustain you through the blizzard. And you will retain more heat if you are not directly on the cave floor. Is that not what you wished for?” Starfire clarified, raising her eyebrow at Robin’s reaction.
“O-of course. Right, good idea,” he coughed out sheepishly. “That’s what I thought you meant.
“Robin, what did you believe my intention was?” Starfire probed, trying to make sure she didn’t unintentionally overstep a boundary.
“I- ah- thought that you wanted to . . .” he sputtered. Robin decided it was just better to say it bluntly to her. He didn’t want to risk confusing her with more Earth slang.
“Um. . . have sex,” he finished quietly.
“Oh! My apologies, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable with such a statement,” Starfire immediately apologized, her face taking on a red tint. She internally berated herself for embarrassing Robin like that.
“No, no, I get what you meant. Well, now I do. But don’t worry about it, ‘sleeping with’ just a saying that can have multiple meanings,” Robin reassured her, taking a moment to calm himself. It was just a simple misunderstanding, nothing that they couldn’t handle he told himself.
“I see. Then I shall be cautious about using that saying in the future,” Starfire said firmly. The two shared an awkward smile, which slowly formed into a sincere one.
“Sounds good,” Robin agreed.
Leaning away from her, Robin reached up into his parka to detach his cape from his underlying uniform. He then stood up, reluctantly leaving the warmth of his girlfriend’s lap and instantly feeling chills, and handed the cape to Starfire. In no time at all, Starfire had the cape perfectly flattened out on the rocky floor. She settled down and gently patted the section of the cape closer to the fire while looking up at Robin. He sat down and Starfire moved to wrap her arms around him so his back would be facing her. At this, Robin gently stopped her arms by holding her wrists.
“Robin? Do you wish for ‘the space’?”
Starfire thought maybe she might have been pushing his limits for sleeping. He did like his privacy and she fully respected that, but this was odd to her considering he had made a move on her not too long ago.
“No it’s not that. It’s. . .” he sighed, letting their arms drop. “Let me do this, Starfire. You’ve done enough for me tonight.”
Starfire squinted questioningly at him. Did he doubt her ability to handle the cold through the night? Or was this a classic case of Robin being stubborn and endangering himself by leaving himself more susceptible to the cold?
“I am capable of reserving my body heat. And either way, I will be partially exposed to the cold,” she reminded him firmly. Starfire had believed that Robin was overcoming this vice of never allowing anyone to help him.
“I know you can. But . . . how do I explain this?” he wondered as he looked away, thinking for a moment. He paused, took a breath, and took Starfire’s hands in his.
“I want to wake up tomorrow knowing that I’ve done everything I can to look after you, since you’ve done the same for me. I don’t want to have everything done for me. Does that make sense?” he said as clearly as he could.
“So, this is a matter of pride?” she hit the heart of the matter.
“Exactly. And don’t get me wrong on this, but the guys will never let me live it down if I let you do this. They don’t think less of you or anything like that,” he quickly added. “They just hold certain standards for me and I want to do the best that I can for you.”
Starfire pondered his explanation for a moment, before relaxing her tense shoulders. Robin was not being stubborn for the sake of appearing stronger. He simply wanted to be a gentleman to her in any way that he could. While their predicament may not have required him to be a gentleman in covering her back for the night, Starfire’s heart warmed over the fact that Robin would perform such small, but meaningful, acts for her.
“I believe I understand. Earthen customs are most complex,” she said, gentleness returning to her voice.
Robin let out a sigh of relief. His communication skills had certainly improved from the days when him blurting that Starfire wasn’t his girlfriend contributed to them being stranded on a hostile alien planet.
Starfire turned her back to him so that he could, at least in his viewpoint, uphold his pride and satisfy his need to protect her from the freezing wind off her back. The wind would still hit her front, but there was always her star energy to provide her warmth. Robin wrapped his arms around her and gently laid them both down, side by side. He was immensely happy to have his source of sunshine back in his proximity.
“They really are. I guess you don’t notice until someone points it out,” he said. The two settled on the hard floor as best as they could.
“Starfire?”
“Is there yet another custom that we must uphold?” she asked in a slightly teasing tone.
“Well, there is one . . . But besides that, thanks for being so understanding. I really appreciate it,” Robin genuinely thanked her. How lucky was he to have an outstandingly understanding girlfriend?
“That is only because I have a patient teacher,” she chirped. Starfire had certainly adapted to Earth’s customs far more than she had ever hoped to and she wanted to continue learning if she were to remain by Robin’s side.
“What was the final custom that we are to uphold?” Starfire asked after a few quiet moments.
“Oh! Well . . . I was kinda hoping for a goodnight kiss, but if you’re too tired then that’s fine.” Robin had only brought it up on an impulse. He changed his mind and decided that, considering all he was asking of her, he shouldn’t push it.
Without saying a word, Starfire turned on her back and planted a quick kiss on his lips. She then turned onto her side again and settled back into Robin, closing her eyes to begin to drift off.
“Silly Robin. You need only ask.”
Robin smiled and gladly held Starfire close to him. He inhaled her sweet scent, as he too closed his eyes.
“Goodnight, Starfire.”
“Pleasant shlorvaks, Robin.”
They soon fell asleep to the crackle of the fire and the rhythm of one another’s heartbeats.
#robstarweek#robstar#robin#starfire#teen titans#fanfic#i write#i'm such a slow writer but i finally finished it#no matter if you're an earth boy and his alien gf discussion of gender roles is always an interesting topic to tackle#especially when it comes to how you treat one another
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You make me Happy
“It is advised that everyone remains indoors for the duration of this unexpected blizzard, this is a Red Alert weather warning-“
Harvey lowered the volume on the television, silencing the broadcaster for the evening news. His eyes wandered to the large panels of glass that framed his penthouse apartment. The usual stunning view of Central Park had disappeared completely, hidden behind the vast flurries of white that swirled in the wind in front of his windows.
The freak storm had caught the city by surprise. Leaving many stranded in their cars and businesses, as the News had earlier reported. Harvey turned his attention back to the warm glow of the dancing fire, thanking his lucky stars that he had decided to leave the office at the earlier time of 7pm, the weather warning having been released at 7:30.
He had found himself less willing to stay later than necessary at the office these days. But he wasn’t the only one. Both he and Donna had been taking every opportunity they could get to avoid one another. Both fearing that an encounter would lead to another venomous argument.
Although, he couldn’t lie, something inside him made him glance back at her office each night as he left, the weight of his heart doubling, every time his eyes met her empty desk. He had tried to work up the courage to speak to her. To try and apologize or work things out, but he could never seem to find the strength to face the pain he saw her eyes every time they met his, or find the words to express how he felt.
So instead, he was alone, wishing with every fiber of his being that she was here next to him, her face painted with that smile he knew she saved for him, her hazel eyes looking up at his through her long eyelashes.
He shook the image from his mind, crashing back down to reality, closing his eyes as he reminded himself of the hard truth that he struggled to come to terms with, they could never be the same.
————
Donna cursed as she stepped out into the worsening blizzard. Wrapping her trench coat around her body tightly, protecting her skin from the bitter winds that threatened to slice her in two. She glanced around desperately, the heavy snow impairing her vision, there wasn’t a cab in sight.
The universe really was out to get her. The past two months at work had been hell, but this was just the icing on the poisonous cake. She looked back at the restaurant which she had just come from, briefly considering going back inside. ‘Fuck it’ she sighed under her breath. She’d face a snow storm any day rather than return to that disaster of a date. Her first date since the kiss. The one thing that had been pulling her through the week, now added to the long list of things that had gone terribly wrong in the past few weeks.
And it all started with that kiss.
She began making her way through the streets of the city hoping to find a café or shop where she could take shelter until the snow wore off. But she had no such luck, every building she passed was closed, she had no idea where she was, the street signs were covered in a layer of snow. Barely able to see two steps in front of her, as she held up her arms in an attempt to block the snow from her face.
She was becoming increasingly more distressed, freezing from top to bottom, her feet numb in her stilettos.
She moved back against the nearby wall to steady herself, a shiver shooting up her spine as her body connected with the cold brick.
Then suddenly something clicked, she recognized this building, Harvey’s building. Stumbling towards the front door, she cursed loudly when she found it locked, wishing now more than ever that she hadn’t returned her key to Harvey’s apartment, which had the key card needed to open the the reception door.
She had no other choice, reaching into her hand bag, she removed her phone, dialing his number with trembling fingers, praying to anyone who would listen that he was home.
He picked up after two rings, “Donna?” He said, his voice laced with confusion.
“Harvey, a-are y-you home?” She struggled to get the words out of her mouth, teeth chattering.
“Yeah, I am, are you okay? What’s wrong?” He questioned.
“I-I’m, outside y-your b-building, p-please can you l-let m-me in?” She breathed.
“I’ll be right down. Stay on the phone with me, you shouldn’t be out alone, especially not in this weather.” He said concerned.
Harvey ran from the elevator to the front door of the building, immediately opening the door. A strong gust of icy wind hitting him square in the face as Donna stumbled inside, her whole form was shaking, covered from head to toe in snow, her hands and face were tinted blue, her bright hair sprinkled with snowflakes.
“God Donna, are you okay?” He asked, wondering what could have possessed her to go out in this weather.
She didn’t answer, stumbling on to a near by chair and wrapping her arms around her body as she adjusted to the warmth.
“Come on,” he said, reaching out a hand to tentatively take hers, “you need to get warmed up before you catch pneumonia or something.”
He helped her towards the elevator, her legs shaking like twigs, “what were you doing out in that storm?” He asked, “were you trying to get yourself killed?”
She let out a sigh, “I didn’t know there was a storm, I was on a-“ she swallowed, “I was on a date. It wasn’t going well, the guy was an asshole.” She paused.
“You should have stayed inside something could have happened-“
“I don’t need a lecture Harvey.” she snapped, “not now.” She wasn’t in the mood to explain her self, but he didn’t miss the way her voice wavered and cracked.
His forehead creased, “Did something bad happen?” He asked, already flipping into protective mode, gearing up to go after who ever this guy was.
“No,” she breathed, “he was just an ass, it’s fine I handled it.” She answered, “I can take care of myself.”
———
After a well needed hot shower, Donna emerged from the bathroom and couldn’t help the butterflies she felt fluttering in her stomach at the sight of the jumper, tracksuit bottoms and dressing gown that Harvey had laid out for her.
She dressed herself in the warm, oversized clothes, closing her eyes as she breathed in the unmistakable scent of him coming from the soft material. She twisted and clipped her wet hair into a messy bun, using a grip she had in her handbag.
She stared at her own reflection in the slightly foggy mirror, the steam from the shower still swirling around in the bath room and letting out a shaky breath she whispered, “You can do this.”
She gripped the sink a little tighter at the thought of spending the night trapped here with Harvey, after all they’d been through. She gulped as she feared the worst, another argument, more cold words.
She shook the thought from her mind and holding her head high, she made her way back to the living area. As she rounded the corner she spotted him sitting at the kitchen worktop, with two mugs along side him. He jumped and looked up as she appeared.
“Hey,” he said quietly, “I um- I thought you might want some hot chocolate to warm you up?” He mumbled, gesturing to the mugs.
The butterflies in her stomach began beating their wings rapidly once again, totally taken aback by his thoughtfulness.
“Yeah, um- thanks.” She whispered, taking the mug from his hand, not missing the way his finger tips brushed hers. She made her way to the sofa, sitting as close to the fire as she could get.
He didn’t follow her, instead he moved to the fridge, rummaging around. She kept her eyes trained on the fire, afraid to look at him, to meet his eyes, as if she might crumble to pieces at one glance. She took a long gulp of her hot chocolate, letting the warm liquid spread through her body.
“Hey, do you want some whipped cre-“ he stopped in his tracks, as she choked on her mouthful of hot chocolate, almost spitting it out in shock.
An awkward silence followed, neither really knowing what to say.
Donna decided to take the plunge and break the tension, “Um, yeah sure.” She said a little too loudly, trying her best to act natural.
He moved over to sit beside her as she held out her mug with her two hands.
She watched as he swirled the cream expertly over her drink, biting her lip as the memories from all those years ago came flooding back to her, knowing all too well that the same thoughts were clouding his mind.
When he finished, he blindly placed the can on the coffee table, his eyes never leaving her. He was mesmerized by the sight of her, so beautiful in the warm glowing light of the fire, catching the golden red of her hair.
And suddenly it all seemed to click in his mind. He needed her. He wanted her. Over all these years, after everything that's happened, the death of his father, everything with Daniel Hardman, with Mike going to prison, with Jessica leaving. She was there, she was the one constant in his life. He needed her, he loved her, no matter what had happened in the past, no matter what might happen in the future. All he would ever need is her.
He placed a hand around her mug removing it from her grip and placing it along side the discarded can of whipped cream, then gently, he moved a hand under her chin, feeling the softness of her porcelain skin as he coaxed her eyes upwards to meet his.
In a bold move, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a loving kiss, moving a hand to the small of her back, growing more passionate as he felt her body relax under his touch, melting into him, opening her mouth to grant him access.
She moved forwards, positioning herself on his lap, deepening the kiss and eliciting a groan from Harvey, causing him to bite softly on her lip, “Harvey,” she breathed.
Needing no further encouragement, Harvey swept her up, his lips never leaving her and began to move towards the bedroom.
“Wait” she gasped, stopping him in his tracks, “take that with you.” She said in a sultry whisper, point back towards the can of whipped cream.
They tumbled onto the bed, hands roaming one another’s body like first time lovers, totally immersed in the taste of each other.
She gasped when he pulled back suddenly, propped up on his elbows, looking down at her, both becoming lost in the intensity of the other’s gaze.
“I love you.” They whispered in unison, letting out a soft laugh at their synchronicity.
She beamed up at him, a tear escaping Harvey’s eye as the reality of their current situation hit him square in the chest, “I’m never going to hurt you again.” He breathes, pressing his forehead against hers.
“I know.” She replies, reaching up to press her lips against his.
——
Donna opened her eyes, squinting against the beams of sunlight that shone through the glass walls of Harvey’s bedroom. She yawned, stretching her arms out. She frowned as she realized that Harvey was no longer beside her, sitting up and reaching for his shirt and wrapping the creased white material around her, buttoning it up. She stood up and walked towards the large windows, running a hand through her disheveled hair. The blizzard had died down over night, leaving behind a stunning winter wonderland. Her eyes widening at the beauty of the city in the winter sun.
Harvey peeked his head round the door of his bedroom, the sight that met his eyes nearly flooring him. There she stood, the morning sunshine streaming around her, catching the gold in her fiery hair. Her long legs visible under the shirt she wore, his shirt, agonizingly short, clinging to every curve of her torso.
“Wow.” He sighed, as she turned to face him, his lips curling into that Cheshire Cat smile she knew so well.
He was holding two mugs of coffee, the smell of caffeine and vanilla meeting her. He was dressed in navy v-neck jumper with a white vest shirt underneath, paired with light blue jeans. “The roads are closed,” he said handing her a mug, and leaning down to give her a peck on the cheek, “so no work for us today.”
“Great,” she whispered, running her hand over his chest, “plenty of time for this then” she reaches up planting a kiss on his jawline.
“Well, actually..” he said, placing a hand on her waist “I was think we could maybe go outside, go for a walk in the snow?”
She raised her eyebrows, giving him a smirk, caught off guard by his suggestion, “I’d love too, but I don’t have any boots or-“
“I took a walk to the department store down the street and got a few things.” He said gesturing towards the shopping bags in the corner, “This season’s Valentino boots sound okay?”
“You’re a woman after my own heart.” She replies, stifling a laugh.
He leans down, ghosting a kiss along her pulse point and moving up towards her ear, “you’d better get dressed,” he breaths “before I change my mind.”
———
They ventured out into Central Park, the snow covered trees over head creating a beautiful picture. He kept his arm around her waist, sharing in each other’s warmth as they admired the scenic views of the white park.
“Oh wow look!” She exclaimed, breaking from his hold and moving towards the edge of the bridge, “the pond is completely frozen over-“ she shrieked as a lump of snow connected with the back of her head.
She spun round, mouth open in shock, “Harvey!” She gasped, glaring at his smug face, “You’re gonna regret that.”
She gathered up a handful of snow, but he was too quick taking off in the direction of the open green, she chased after him, firing snow balls at him, missing him several times as he ran.
He glanced around, just in time to see her trip and fall, landing on her hands and knees in the snow.
He doubled back, concerned that she’d hurt herself, “are you okay?” He asked, crouching down beside her.
Taking him completely by surprise, she gathered up another bundle of snow, throwing it in his face with a triumphant giggle.
“Hey-“ he laughed, grabbing hold of her arm, to steady himself, but instead causing both of them to go tumbling down the hill, shrieks of laughter erupting from their chests. Both covered in snow by the time they reached the bottom of the hill, wrapped up in each other’s arms as they gasped for breath.
Harvey looked down into her beautiful face, just as he had the night before, admiring the contrast of her vibrant hair with the bright white snow, smiling at the sight of the snowflakes caught in her long eyelashes.
“You make me so happy.” He admitted with a sweet smile.
“That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she replied, “for you to be happy.”
“For us to be happy.” He corrected.
She reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his lips down to meet hers.
“I’m falling deeper in love with you every minute Mr Specter.”
“I’ve always loved you Donna, and even that is an understatement.”
-----
Inspired by my current snowed in state! Let me know what you think. ❄️💘
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Let Me Warm Your Heart Part 7
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 |
Words: 1876
Summary: Wishful thinking can often bring dreams into reality. Or is it the other way around?
Disclaimer: Don’t own my boy Credence or anything of FBAWTFT, sadly. GIF credits to the owner.
Warnings: triggers for abuse, blood, ANGST and depression.
The belt sliced through the air, its slick slap resounding across the room like a whip. Credence whimpered loudly, the leather slicing through his skin and drawing blood from the welts that crisscrossed across his hands. Tears had made his vision hazy and stained his face into a blotchy red as his Ma struck down again and again and again, unrelenting in her blows. She hit him with more force than every preceding strike, trying to vent her anger the only way she knew. The force of the last lash brought him to his knees and the pain tore at his being, becoming so unbearable that he couldn’t breathe anymore.
Darkness clouded his eye-sight momentarily as Mary Lou’s livid face stared at him with revulsion. “You should remember this the next time you lie. You wretched, wicked boy! No sins will be tolerated as long as you are sheltered in this house!” The agony of the hits made him crumble further into himself as the pain rippled across his consciousness. The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor of his room.
He had probably passed out from the pain, his delirium carrying him upto his bed, the last small sanctuary in this house at least. He was unaware as to what time it was but the cold night air that flowed through the open window and chilled him with the icy hands of the December winter brought the rough estimate to a few hours. A shadow passed along the window and he looked up. The sight that he saw made him want to cry again. But this time, out of relief. Y/N had somehow managed to enter his house, his very room without detection. He stared at her unblinkingly, wondering how she had got past his Ma…
Horror dawned upon him with the realisation of her presence. Oh no! If his mother were to find out that she was here… he shook his head at her vehemently, “No. You have to leave…if she…if she finds…” she shushed him, placing a finger on his lips and he fell silent, enthralled by that one touch. She motioned for him to be quiet and crept toward the door, with the stealth of a seasoned lurker. She heard for any sounds emanating from outside and once she had made sure that no one was awake, she stepped towards him.
Y/N guided him towards the bed, settling him on the ragged cot and sitting beside him. She motioned for Credence to give his hands into her hold. He was hesitant at first, unwilling to show the real extent of the damage caused. His conflicted gaze searched in her eyes and seeing the empathy in them, he brought his mangled fingers forward. She let out a hissed breath on seeing the bloody mess that were his hands. Her first touch was as gentle as a feather but still a whimper escaped him, despite his efforts to drown them out. The pain was agonising and it was taking all his effort to not cry out loud.
“Shh…Credence, honey, just wait for a bit. I will make sure the pain goes away.” He stared at her, not believing her comforting words but thankful for them nonetheless. “I… I was just hungry… and cold… so cold… I asked for one spoonful more, that’s it… I didn’t want Chastity to get hurt… hurt because of me. So I lied, said that the portions went bad. I didn’t want to… to sin… I promise. I promise I won’t, ever…”
The tears streaming down his cheeks soaked the collar of his shirt and the snot must have made him even more unsightly than usual. Disregarding all that, Y/N opened her arms in a silent beckon for him to come close and he melted into her embrace, his pain dulled to a persistent throb now that she was there.
She wiped his face with her sleeve and her hand stroked the base of his skull, drawing soothing circles as he hiccupped, with his head laid upon her shoulder. With immense care she took one of his hands into hers and warmth spread through it, a dull glow emanating from her hand to his. He stared at their linked fingers, awestruck by the miracle happening before his very eyes. The searing pain dulled to a throbbing ache before slowly diminishing into nothingness. She took his other hand and repeated the process while he watched as her face scrunched up in concentration, not comprehending the scene unfolding in front of him. “How?” the word escaped his mouth as he continued staring long after Y/N was done tending to his wounds. She just smiled and winked at him as if to say, ‘guess’.
Was this what his mother called magic? Was the soothing touch that healed and this warm glow that emanated from the woman he loved known as witchcraft? If that were true, if this was the sin that his Ma warned everyone against he wondered whether the world as he knew it had been turned upon its head, upside down. For even if he were unaware of the worldly knowledge that others may boast of, nobody could convince him that these were the doings of Satan. An angel in every sense had just taken his hurt away and the affection which shined in her eyes was something that a devil would never be capable of.
Before he could ask any further questions, she shook her head. “I can’t say anything here”, she gave a furtive glance at the door and then at the window, “I had to make sure you were okay. Just sleep now, alright?” when he made no motion to move, she got up and shifted him so that he was lying on the cot. She tucked him under the lone blanket and was about to leave when Credence grabbed her hand, surprising both himself and her and said, “Stay. Only till I fall asleep. Just… be with me.” Something shifted in her eyes, something he couldn’t quite figure out but she nodded and sat at the edge of the bed. He looked at her sitting there and as their eyes locked, he wordlessly moved so that there was enough space for the both of them.
Understanding his silent plea, Y/N lifted the blanket and snuggled in with him, pulling him into her embrace once again. Credence moulded his body to hers, laying his head on her chest as she wrapped him in a hug, stroking his hair with gentle caresses. His now healed hands, hesitant at first lay at her sides but when she shifted to make space for him, silently acquiescing, he placed them around her waist tightening his hold on her small body. Her heartbeat thudded in his ears as he timed his own breathing to it, sleep making his eyelids heavy. “Please don’t leave me.” He mumbled, half asleep, his fingers tightened even more at her waist, giving the momentary illusion that if he held onto her tight enough, she wouldn’t disappear into thin air like he feared she would. The silence stretched on and he wondered whether he had spoken the words aloud or not. Her reply came like the wind weaving through trees, barely audible, “I wish I could stay with you, love.”
The words were whispered like a church confession and he sleepily lifted his head to look at her. The shadows danced across her face and before his mind could process what he was doing, he shifted along her length their legs intertwining with each other. With mere inches separating their faces and the distance fast diminishing, he whispered back, “I love you.” Credence pressed his lips to hers, his cold ones seeking and receiving her warm, chapped ones. It was slow, hazy and made up of something quite similar to the magic (if you could call it that) he had witnessed moments ago. The unhurried, languid movements cocooned him in a protective shell, even if it might be false. Quite against his wishes, his eyes closed as he retreated and a soft sigh escaped Y/N, their breaths mingling in the cold air. He should have been awake to know what she said next, to see what expression her face held, whether she was angry, disappointed or just sad.
But the fatigue of the day weighed heavy upon him and before he knew it he went under the spell of a dreamless sleep. What felt like an unquantifiable amount of time passed as his body went through sensations and motions best known to the realm of unconsciousness. A sudden external shift pulled him from this weightless state and he noticed that he was lying alone in his bed. A gentle hand stroked his forehead a kiss was placed on his temple. He tried to clutch to that familiar touch that felt so much like home, hold onto it with everything he had and never let it go but it escaped his fumbling grasp. “I’m sorry.” He wondered whether his sleep induced mind had imagined those words or distorted them into something else entirely.
A soft voice called him as a wetness formed in his half closed eyes. Credence. He wondered why they were calling him now. Credence. The wetness leaked from the corner of his eye, dripping along the length of his nose before falling on the pillow and dampening it. Credence. He noticed that the pillow had become quite soaked, how long had he been like this? “Credence!” his eyes fluttered awake as his hand grasped the one shaking him awake. Wide eyes peered into his as Modesty looked at her brother, half dazed and disoriented from sleep. “Credence, you will need to wake up soon. Ma will be calling.” He let go of her hand, the cuts on his hand stabbing him like knives against the rough fabric of Modesty’s shirt. He stared at the lacerations, the blood crusted on them, barely healed and raw. “Yeah”, he croaked in response, his voice gravelly with sleep. She left the room and he slumped back into his pillow, burrowing his head into the damp fabric.
He subconsciously cradled his hand, eyes shut tight as the tears flowed freely. He felt sorry as well. Because what his mind had conjured up would always be just that, a broken dream that held the sorrow of his reality. And it being a dream didn’t dull the pain. Not just of his flesh wounds, no. The fact that he would never be able to hold her like he was clinging to his very life (because that was what she was) and be held with the same tenderness in return, tell her how much he loved her and see the affection reflected in her eyes, the way they sparkled in the dream. And perhaps, he thought finally, openly sobbing into the pillow. This last thought made him cry harder than before. Perhaps, he would never be able to see her ever again. The pain was there, ever present, throbbing and real. And it would never go away. Because people could leave you in seconds without even a goodbye, but feelings lasted for a long time. Sometimes they lasted for a life time.
Tagging : @multifandom-slytherin, @mysticracoon, @thequeerishere555 @daeshaunex2 @retardedhumanhere
Let me know if you want to be tagged.
A/N: Tried my hand at angst, wonder if it worked…? A small make up chapter for the previous lack of updates. No? Okay, I’ll just leave this here and back away slowly…
~ Mystical reading nerd
#credence#credence barebone#credence imagine#credence barebone imagine#credence fantastic beasts#credence barebone x reader#credence angst#credence barebone angst#credence barebone fantastic beasts#credence x reader#credence x reader imagine#fantastic beasts and where to find them#fantastic beasts#fantastic beasts and where to find them imagine#fantastic beasts imagine#reader insert imagine#fbawtft#credence fbawtft#fbawtft imagine#fanfiction#fantastic beasts fanfic#my writing#mystical reading nerd writes#let me warm your heart#lmwyh
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Guilt and Strength
I.
A gust of cold air blew in through the doorway. Henalee looked up from the freshly-washed clothes she had been helping Vindler sort through. She made eye contact with the man in the doorframe--Jakam--but he seemed not to see her. His gaze was hollow, and even as tall and hulking as he was, he seemed nothing more than a wraith, terribly thin, with the light from outside spilling through his cloak.
She put down the scarf she’d been folding and hurried over to put a hand on his arm and help him inside. He started at the touch, as though broken from some reverie. “Henalee,” he said hoarsely, without looking at her. “Henalee...”
“Come inside, sit down. You look exhausted. Gailie just made stew, we’ll get you a bowl to eat...”
Jakam shook his head. “Please, no. I can’t eat, not now.”
Henalee paused and looked up at him. He looked haggard. “What... happened?”
His shoulders slumped. Henalee let go of him, wondering if she should call for his sister, but he looked up at her. “Please,” he said softly, holding his arm out. Hesitantly, Henalee took it again, and Jakam sighed, the crease in his brow lessening somewhat.
“Two of the Queen’s children showed up last night. They were dying... horrible things... some kind of twisted magic...” He closed his eyes. Henalee squeezed his arm and he tipped his head back as though searching for strength from the heavens. “I had to send them to the Windsinger before they suffered more. I don’t know... how I can ever tell her.”
Silence passed between them for a moment. Henalee had rarely spoken to Jakam, little more than when she had met him with the rest of the clan. But in that moment, she felt as though she could see all his suffering like Shade clawing at his shoulders. She found herself wishing that she could blow it away like smoke. Dear Earthshaker, she prayed, Let me have the smallest portion of your strength and love, now.
With a deep breath, Henalee wrapped her free arm around Jakam’s waist. “You did the right thing,” she said. “The Queen will understand in time. Now, come. Eat just a little, for me?”
She helped him over to the fireplace, where he slumped down against the wall. He let her take his cloak and hat, and ate a few spoonfuls of stew when she pushed them on him.
II.
It had been two weeks since Jakam had exalted the Queen’s children. He hadn’t found it in himself to tell her yet. But Henalee continued to take special care in making sure he ate, and always came to greet him when he staggered in after a day of work. One day, he brought back an Earthshaker token and pressed it into her hand. “I know how devout you are,” he’d said. “It was caught on a branch of a big oak tree. It reminded me of you, sturdy and... and...” He’d trailed off there, his eyes filling with an emotion Henalee could only read as loneliness. He’d turned and walked away before she could respond.
She put the charm on a necklace and wore it on days when she felt she needed extra strength... which were quickly growing more common as resources and morale ran low.
Henalee was ever busy helping where she could around the clan of starving dragons, sometimes forgetting to sleep or to eat, until once when she was walking with Jakam toward the fireplace, she suddenly stopped and caught herself on a beam nearby for support. She held her head while the world spun around her. Jakam seized her shoulder in a surprisingly firm grip. “Henalee?” he asked sharply.
“Just... a little faint.”
“You’re working yourself too hard.”
“I... maybe I am. I don’t know. There’s so much to be done.”
The next day, Jakam brought back an elk to throw on the food pile. The hungry dragons of the clan rejoiced, but Jakam looked more gaunt than ever. He hid his bloody fingers in his cloak, swaying where he stood. Henalee steered him outside, fuming.
“You can’t do this,” she whispered angrily, holding him against the wall by the lapels of his coat.
He looked sadly at her. “I just... wanted to help. So you don’t have to do so much.”
His expression deflated her anger, but Henalee still threw her hands up. “No,” she said. “I won’t have it. You don’t need any more work. You come in every day looking like you have a thousand souls dragging you by your cloak.”
“I have,” he responded quietly.
Henalee’s hand went to the Earthshaker charm at her breast as she silently begged for patience. “Those souls have peace now, Jakam. It’s the highest honor they can have. You know that.”
“It’s hard to remember when they beg me not to do it sometimes.” Jakam stopped himself, then put his face in his hands. “I shouldn’t tell you this,” he groaned. “We shouldn’t be talking.”
“Why not? You need help. You can’t live like this.”
“Whenever... Whenever I get close to someone, things go wrong. We’re never happy, Hen. It just doesn’t work, not for me.”
“So you had a few bad relationships? That doesn’t mean they’ll all be bad.”
Jakam sighed. His face was thrown in relief by the light coming from the longhouse. In the night, it was cool and quiet around them. “What are you saying?” he whispered. It struck Henalee that he had never looked so intently into her eyes, never been so present. She stared right back, glad for the relative darkness to hide the heat rising in her cheeks.
“You can’t go through life with so much guilt. You have to let it go.”
III.
Jakam began bringing back more small gifts for Henalee as the days went by. A rough gemstone here, a bundle of her favorite flower there. And one day, before he left, he kissed her forehead. She actually didn’t think anything of it until she turned around and saw Ivy beaming at her. It had only seemed natural.
Jakam kissed her forehead every morning after that.
Then, one day, as winter was setting in, a freezing windstorm struck the cliffs. The longhouse rattled and the fire guttered in the fireplace. Hatchlings huddled under their parents’ wings, crying at the howling sounds. The sun dipped low on the horizon early that day, it seemed, and as darkness fell, Jakam did not return from his work.
Henalee tried not to think about it. She made her usual rounds, delivering food and water to the individual families, checking in with each one to see what they needed. But she couldn’t focus. As icy wind slipped through chinks in the walls, she couldn’t help but imagine Jakam out in the storm, his cloak whipping around him and strangling him, freezing to death... She went and stood by the door, squinting out to the horizon for him. As hours passed by, tears began to come. No, Earthshaker, she thought. Not now, please...
In the middle of the night, the wind finally began to slow. Henalee still shook in the doorway, wiping away tears, when finally she saw a figure emerging from an outcropping of rock, unmistakably tall and thin. She broke out running toward him.
Jakam stopped when he saw her coming, but hesitantly opened his arms when he recognized her. She ran into them, burying her face in his chest. “Where were you?“ she cried, clutching to him while he laid a hand on her back and pressed her close.
“I stopped at a shelter to stay through the storm. I knew if I tried to get back, I might get hurt, and you’d be upset. I didn’t want to worry you...” He stroked her hair. “I see I failed at that.”
Henalee couldn’t say anything for a long while, just crying into his chest while he ran his fingers through her hair and soothed her.
“Thank you for taking care of yourself,” she said at length, stepping back and rubbing away tears with her fists. Then she punched him lightly. “I didn’t expect it, you ass.”
Jakam chuckled and lifted one of her hands from her face to thumb her tears away himself. It looked as though he wanted to say something, but every time he opened his mouth, he would shake his head slightly and close it again. On the fourth or fifth time, Henalee snorted and grabbed his waist.
“Just say it. Say you love me.”
Jakam stared at her in surprise for a moment before he laughed. A genuine thing; he threw his head back and laughed. Henalee was almost upset, but she couldn’t help smiling herself. It was something she’d never heard before. He sounded like a crow. When he looked at her again, there was a shine in his eyes that hadn’t been there since the Fletching Clan had arrived at Henalee’s longhouse.
“Oh, Henalee,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “You amaze me.” And he leaned in and kissed her lips.
The worry in Henalee’s chest unravelled as Jakam kissed her, replaced by the realization that he was much better at it than she’d imagined. She wound her arms around him and he responded with fervor, holding the back of her head to guide her as he moved against her. She had no idea how much time had passed before she finally broke off for breath. Jakam looked at her with half-lidded eyes. “I do love you,” he murmured, before turning his head another way to kiss her again.
#fletching clan lore#fletching clan stories#fr lore#flight rising#c: jakam#c: henalee#sighs deeply#do you know how Good this was to write
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For Day 2 of @voltronwhumpweek2017!
Prompt: Hypothermia
Ships: N/A
Character Whumped: Shiro
Note: So you know season 3 episode 5? Let’s change things up a bit, yeah? (And let’s not consider the clone theory going around right now and take this long haired space dad as the real space dad for however long it takes you to read this fic, lol)
It had been a risky leap, but it was either jump for the ledge or fall to his death. Shiro stares up at the snow floating down from the cloudy sky. His leg is throbbing, the snow-covered ground beneath him seeps past his clothes to chill his skin, but he’s alive, and that is a victory within itself.
He rolls over after allowing himself a brief moment to catch his breath and moves to stand. The second he’s on his feet, the icy wind picks up, whipping against him and feeling like needles jabbing every inch of his body. A grunt slips past his lips, and he goes to take a test step with his injured leg, only to stop at an intense burning sensation shooting up and down his leg. On instinct, he moves both hands to the wound, brows pulling together as he stares out at the icy wasteland of a planet.
Move, his mind supplies. He has to move and keep moving, but his leg... Just putting pressure on it brings a searing pain to it. He sucks in a shaking breath and tears his already frayed shirt enough for a makeshift bandage. Tying the rough fabric around the wound hurts; his face scrunches up into a tight wince, but he keeps moving his hands until the wound is properly bandaged.
Another test step, and he’s able to apply enough pressure to walk. It still hurts terribly, but he can walk, and that’s all that matters right now for the wind and snow is starting to get to him in the form of slight shivers wracking his limbs.
He starts forward, one shaking step at a time. “Keep moving,” he tells himself. He just has to keep moving.
*****
He walks for hours until his entire frame is wracked with deep set shivers that have him wrapping shaking arms around himself. He’s exhausted, and the snow has picked up into a blizzard, but still, he keeps moving. He stumbles once, muscles strained from exertion and trembling, and he falls to his knees. But, he gets back up as images of Voltron, of his family, flash hot across his mind. Just keep moving, he tells himself.
He staggers forward for another hour until he spots a massive carcass of something. An animal? Monster? He’s not sure. The only thing he is sure about is that it’s large enough to take shelter in for the sky is taking on the prominent dark color of night, and as luck would have it, there are enough loose pieces of wood around for a fire.
The temperature’s been dropping rapidly, and he’s growing concerned at his sluggish movements. So, he works as fast as he can to gather the stray pieces of woods, and in just minutes, he’s got a roaring fire going thanks to his Galra hand.
For a moment, the warmth of the fire burns against his chilled skin, but he stays a close distance until the warmth chases away the chill clinging to his limbs. It’s only then that he moves back some to examine the wound on his leg. He’s careful when removing the makeshift bandages, and he sucks in a sharp hiss at the sight.
His Galra hand is glowing and moving before his mind supplies the painful solution of cauterization. He sucks in a measured breath and drops the burning hand to the wound, and a piercing scream shoots up his throat as hot pain explodes all across his leg until his entire body is shaking along a stuttering wave of adrenaline and pain.
He works as quick as he can, and by the time his leg is bandaged once more, his eyes are already drooping closed as the lingering jolts of adrenaline flutter away. He lies onto his side and stares with fuzzy vision at the carcass that’s providing shelter from the snow and wind.
“What killed you?” He asks quietly before sleep’s long fingers pull him under.
*****
He wakes to shivers once more running rampant across his limbs. He pries his eyes open to see the fire completely burned out, and he breathes out a low huff, breath clouding in front of him. Outside, he can still hear the wind roaring, and just the thought of going back out in that has his shivering picking up in intensity.
But, he can’t idle. He knows this. His throat is burning from lack of water, and he’s beginning to feel dangerously low on energy from lack of food. He needs to look for help, for water, for food... for something. He just needs to move.
His muscles crack and pop in protest as he gets to his feet. He takes a test step once more, and his leg holds, supports his weight despite the dull throb of the cauterized wound. He can do this, he tells himself as he exits the shelter of the carcass.
If possible, it’s colder than yesterday, and the wind whips the snow in a slant that masks visibility. Shiro instantly wraps both arms around himself and starts forward, head bowed against the fierce wind and snow.
He walks for around two hours, stumbling up and down large hills until he spots something: a lake, a broken one at that, but a lake all the same. Water, his mind says, and before he knows it, he’s ignoring the pain in his leg as he races toward the source.
Falling to his knees, he dips both hands into the lake, cupping icy water and bringing it to his cracked lips. It burns down his throat, but the relief outweighs the pain that stems from the water’s temperature, and in a desperate stunt for more, he’s leaning over and dipping his whole face into the water, as if he can’t physically get enough. It burns icy cold against his skin, but he gulps and gulps for an endless moment until he pulls his face out of the lake, small water drops dripping from his hair.
He stares at his rippling reflection with downcast eyes, wondering how the hell he got here, when suddenly, something that he had thought was a rock in the water is moving toward him. He sits up and tilts his head to the side, watching with a dumbfound expression until the rock suddenly shoots forward, water splashing down all around Shiro. He’s on his feet and running as soon as he sees that the rock isn’t a rock but rather some kind of enemy, but he can’t run fast enough, and he gets hit.
After that, his mind shifts into fight mode, but his attempts are futile at best. He’s too weak, too cold, and he’s now pinned on the ground with a slimy tentacle wrapped around his throat. He can’t get in a breath in, and he mutters out a strangled “help” just as Keith’s voice shouts in his head.
“Get the hell up and fight!”
His Galra hand takes on a familiar glow, and his muscles tremble as adrenaline sparks hot across his veins. For the next minute, he’s seeing red as he forces the tentacle from his neck and swings his Galra hand down against the enemy, over and over and over, even after it’s down for the count. His chest is heaving in giant swells when he finally stops, and he gets to his feet, knees buckling dangerously.
He manages five steps before he collapses, and his last coherent thought is ‘don’t!’ before his eyes slip closed.
*****
He wakes once because he’s shivering hard enough that his entire body hurts. He pulls his knees to his chest, curling himself into a tight ball as he breathes out a stuttering breath. He can hear a second voice in his head; he’s not sure, but it sounds like Keith shouting for him to stay awake.
He wants to; he really does. Only, his entire body aches from a deep set chill that has made his inner body its home. Before he knows it, his eyes are slipping closed once more.
*****
“-ro! Shiro! Please wake up!”
Opening his eyes is hard. They feel as if they are frozen shut, but someone is shaking him and yelling at him. He needs to open his eyes to see, but sleep tugs at every crevice of his body.
“Shiro, dammit! Open your eyes!”
His eyes fly open, and Keith’s form doubles and triples in front of him. He’s losing his mind, he decides. Keith can’t be here, but then Lance is beside Keith, and Keith is turning and yelling something over his shoulder. Lance’s warm hand presses against his cheek, and it hurts. He recoils on instinct, and Lance jerks his hand back with a deep frown.
“Keith, he’s too cold, but he’s not shivering.”
“Dammit. Pidge! Hunk!”
Shiro tries to sit up, but his arms fail to support his weight. He falls back down with a low groan just as Pidge and Hunk shout for Lance and Keith to move.
The two obey, and moments later, there’s a burning hot hand against Shiro’s neck and another on his wrist.
“Stop,” he slurs out. “Hurts,” he adds, voice weak and just as sluggish as his mind.
“What’s wrong with him?”
Shiro is slow to move his head to the new voice, but he does until his eyes see Allura standing with Lance and Keith. She’s dressed... oddly he thinks. Not normal. Different. He’s not sure.
“Hypothermia,” Pidge supplies, voice shaking slightly with fear. “And, it’s not good. We need to get him out of here now, but we have to move him slowly.”
Shiro tries desperately to keep up with Pidge’s quick tongue, but he can’t. All he can make out is the worry coloring her eyes, and he wants to take that away somehow.
“I can carry him,” Hunk says, already moving to scoop Shiro up. “Just get a lion as close as possible.”
“Lance,” Keith starts, but Lance is already racing back toward Red at an impressive speed. “Pidge, Allura, go back as well. Get back to the castle, and get a bed set up. Loads of blankets. Take Black with you. I’ll ride with Lance. Hunk can cover us on our way back.”
The two nod and start at a sprint toward their lions, and Shiro watches them go with his eyes squinting against the snow. He opens his mouth to say something; he’s not sure what, but all that comes out is a sharp cry when he’s suddenly lifted and pressed against icy metal.
“I know. I’m sorry. Just for a few minutes.” Hunk reassures, keeping Shiro hugged tightly to his chest as he and Keith start back toward the lions.
The pain is too much, and even though he tries incredibly hard to keep his eyes open, Shiro blacks out, with Keith’s panicked voice the last thing he hears.
*****
He wakes to hear Keith yelling something: maybe “easy, Lance!” He’s not too sure. He can feel a vibration underneath him, and there are steady, burning hands on his shoulders. He wants to pull away, and a light groan creeps up his throat.
“Shiro! Are you awake?”
Keith’s voice is clear the second time. Shiro wants to be awake, but shit he’s tired. His eyes flutter closed.
*****
Multiple voices pull him from sleep this time. There’s a lot of panicked talking and frantic movement. He’s dimly aware that he’s lying on something soft and warm, and he forces his focus to pull toward the voices.
“We have to go slowly with this, okay? Trust me. Just let Hunk get in for now, and we will add people slowly.”
Shiro wants to ask what Pidge means, but suddenly, there’s a dip in whatever he’s lying in, and moments later, he’s being pulled toward hot skin that burns against his. He lets out a sharp hiss and tries to wriggle away, but he’s too tired, and whoever has him is too strong.
“Easy, Shiro. This will help.”
The voice is gentle, and Shiro doesn’t fight the exhaustion that pulls him under.
*****
When he wakes again, he’s shivering hard, almost as if he’s about to shake right out of his skin. His teeth are clacking together loudly, and every inch of his body feels as if it’s covered in a thin layer of ice. A deep groan grates against the back of his throat, and he buries his face into the sudden warmth wrapped around his chest just as the warmth at his back moves closer.
“Shit, he’s freezing!”
“You would be too if you were stuck on some freak ice planet, Lance.”
“He’s shaking really bad. Is what you all are doing not working?”
Shiro can pick out the voices: Lance, Hunk, and Allura. But, he can’t form words around his trembling lips, nor does he want to.
“No, that’s a good thing. It means he’s warming up.”
Smart girl, Shiro thinks at Pidge’s words right before he slips under.
****
The next time his eyes open, he’s pleased to find that his thoughts are coming together in coherent sentences, and while he’s cold, he’s not shaking nearly as bad. He slowly opens his eyes to see Lance’s sleeping face only inches before his. He cranes his head around slowly to see Pidge draped across his covered feet, and Hunk is plastered to his back. He moves his face back toward the door just as it slides open to reveal Keith walking in with a few folded blankets in his arms.
The two lock eyes for an endless moment before both faces break way to smiles. Shiro nods weakly toward the blankets with an arched brow.
“They’re for Lance,” Keith says quietly, and Shiro is quick to snap his gaze back to see Lance trembling slightly against him.
“I tried to swap places with him,” Keith adds quietly as he tucks another blanket around Lance. “But, he told me no, and then he said some stuff in Spanish.”
Shiro smiles softly. “You found me.”
Keith scoffs lightly. “Of course we found you. We never stopped looking.”
“Thank you,” he breathes out, and Keith smiles warmly at him.
“You would do the same for any of us. Now, go back to sleep. You still need rest.”
Shiro feels as if he’s been sleeping for a thousand years, yet, his eyes flutter closed, and moments later, he’s being pulled toward sleep once more.
#voltronwhumpweek#voltronwhumpweek2017#voltron#vld#my writing#my voltron writing#whump#hypothermia#takashi shirogane#so like you know where did the bandage in that episode come from?#also how did he start that fire??#i have questions lol#but here's what i would have liked to happen in that episode lol#what should have happened in voltron season 3 episode 5#also give me long hair shiro or give me death#and give me space family cuddles or give me death#scene rewrite
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I’ll See You (Angelina’s 1K Celebration)
Pairing: Dean x Hunter!Reader
Word Count: 3100
Warnings: Angst, death, canon level violence
Summary: Dean and the reader are old flames. After so many years apart, will they be able to rekindle what they once had, or will it be too late?
A/N: This was the most challenging one I’ve written to date and I’m not quite sure why. Here is about the 25th version I created. It took three months and at least two other writers to help figure out a decent flow. Thank you @impala-dreamer and @wheresthekillswitch! I couldn’t have done it without y’all. It’s being published for @atc74’s 1K Celebration, otherwise this story wouldn’t have made it past my word documents file. My prompt was “Colder Weather” by the Zac Brown Band. Thank you, Angelina, for hosting this challenge! Congrats on the milestone :)
Twelve Years Ago~
The small photo, already wearing at the edges, rested in your hands as you sat on your tailgate waiting for Dean. Hopefully tonight he would be here—just after every full moon as promised. You didn’t have a phone as there were no lines or service in the backwoods east Texas town, so this was the only way you’d ever see each other unless a hunt took you to a city. Mostly though, you preferred the country. The isolation brought peace and comfort. You traced the outline of his face next to yours, smiling and shaking the hair out of your face from the wind. Gently, you lifted and smoothed a corner that had dog-eared. It was so cold tonight you couldn’t feel your fingers, toes, or really any extremity at all, but the whiskey in your chest stilled your shivers for the most part. Your thoughts were interrupted by a rumble in the distance. You grinned wide, butterflies swimming through the artificial warmth and making you light headed, the Impala slowly making its way up the long drive to your humble abode. In the waning moonlight, you could see a flash of teeth in a sideways smile as Dean pulled to a stop in front of you.
Okay, maybe sitting on a tailgate in the cold for so long wasn’t such a good idea… you were frozen in place. Dean gently shut the door and slid over the hood of the Impala so smoothly that there was no way he hadn’t practiced that. He unzipped his dad’s leather jacket, opening it like angelic wings to envelope you in his radiating heat. You crashed into his chest, breathing in deep but disappointed that your nose was too cold for his scent to stick in your nostrils. He kissed the top of your head, breathing hard and warming your scalp as he rubbed circles on your back. After a moment and without a word, he scooped you up and carried you inside, your legs still wrapped around his waist and face buried in his neck. It wouldn’t be long until you were both very warm and very sated, curled up under the blankets in your bed.
You laid face to face, legs still tangled and shaking lightly as you traced the constellations in his freckles. In just a few minutes, you were all caught up on the events of the last month. Dean started to talk about how he had to leave in the morning since he already had another case until you interrupted.
“Dean, why don’t I come with you? Or call another hunter to take care of it? We haven’t had more than a night or two here and there for sixth months.”
“You know I can’t put another hunter in harm’s way, especially with a case like this one. We hardly have any information on the damn thing—it could be anything.”
“Take me with you, I can help.”
“You know I would, but you would only be in danger. People that get too close to me die. You know this.” Dean pulled back, brows furrowed.
You pulled back your hand and gripped the sheet tighter around you. “I can take care of myself Winchester. I’ve been hunting alone for years.” You paused for a moment, looking down and away and wriggling out from under him. Your eyes snapped back up and met his. It wasn’t fair how beautiful he looked right now, in fact, it made the ache in your chest worse. “Am I just another girl to you?”
“No! Of course not! I promise, soon it will be safer to have you near, and the moment that happens I’ll come for you.” He reached towards you and propped up on his elbow. You flinched away, gracelessly tumbling out of the bed and towards the pile of your clothes on the floor, hurriedly getting dressed.
“No Dean, it’s always going to be something. That’s what this life is. But we do it together!” You turned on him, tossing your hair up into a messy bun and buttoning your shirt. Well, Dean’s shirt. Dean slipped into his jeans and old band t-shirt, saving the jacket for last and forgetting the flannel on your shoulders.
“What do you want me to do, huh? You shouldn’t be hunting! You got your revenge, you can stop! You have a home,” Dean gestured angrily around the room, “you have a chance at a life, a family! No hunter ever gets that.”
You stepped towards him, voice barely above a whisper. “We could be a family. A family of hunters. You know I can’t have children, so it works out. At least then we wouldn’t be alone.”
“It doesn’t matter what you say, alright? You’re safer here. Away from me.” Dean stormed out of the room, knowing that if he stuck around any longer that he may crack. You were one of his weak spots—the biggest, other than Sam. The best thing to do was leave again before he could hurt you even more. He swung open the front door, a blast of cold filling the small space and making you shiver as you chased after him.
She'd trade Colorado if he'd take her with him
Closes the door before the winter lets the cold in,
And wonders if her love is strong enough to make him stay,
She's answered by the tail lights shining through the window pane
“Dean, if you walk out that door, don’t you ever come back.”
Dean paused, tears already down his face. Funny how familiar that line was to him by now. He turned his ear slightly, fighting himself. “I’ll see you.” He let out a heavy sigh, turned back forward and all but ran to the comforting shelter of the Impala. You slammed the door and set your back roughly against it, hands out to steady yourself. You wanted to take it back—all of it, and just be content to see him once in a while. Anything was better than nothing. Why were you both so stubborn? You looked up, readying yourself to run out and stop him, but it was too late, the red of the taillights filtering in through the adjacent window and fading as the Impala peeled away.
He said I wanna see you again, but I'm stuck in colder weather
Maybe tomorrow will be better, can I call you then?
She said you're ramblin' man, you ain't ever gonna change
You got a gypsy soul to blame, and you were born for leavin'.
Seventeen Years Ago~
Icy wind whipped harshly over the bare terrain, threatening to carry the flames across the clearing. How dare the sun shine so brightly on a day like this? Not a cloud in the sky, the valley only shadowed by a large hill to the East. You did your best to stand tall, watching the pyres and trying to push every thought out of your mind. Instead, your memories raced by—your sister singing and dancing under the same sun only days ago, a sun that seemed softer then, more forgiving. You looked up into it, letting it burn until all you could see were white blocks and black shadows.
Even still, your brother raced around the yard on his little dirt bike, acting like the hotshot you’d never tell him he was. The one he now would never be. Your mother and father were arguing in the kitchen over something silly, but ended it with a kiss and dishwater fight. This was so fresh in your eyes not even the brutal winter sun could sear it away. How had this happened? You’d only been gone a few hours, but when you came back, they’d all been slaughtered, the monster long gone. Your father had raised you as a hunter, and you called the first number in his contacts for help, wasting no time to allow the gory scene before you to set in. Those mangled bodies were NOT your family. No, the people they were, were gone.
Feeling like an intruder in your own home, you’d slept by the road at the end of the long driveway, gun clutched in your hands ‘til your knuckles were white. It was two days before Sam and Dean had arrived, and it was obvious you hadn’t moved in that time. Your eyes had been fixed, joints stiff, face pale and eyes sunken from dehydration.
The boys had found and disposed of the vampire that’d done it within 24 hours, and by the third morning, here you were, clinging to strength in the unforgiving winter gusts and Texas sun. You didn’t realize you were falling until Dean caught you in his arms, pulling you in and wrapping you within the flannel and leather like you’d done to your father as a child, fists clenched tightly to his undershirt. Your clamped your eyes together, wanting to never open them again, face buried against his chest. You were vaguely aware that you were in a heap with him on the ground as the hunter wrapped around you completely, but all you could focus on was the sound.
A crackling fire would never be soothing again. You flinched every time the immense heat fractured a bone, sick rising in your chest and threatening to spill. Dean pressed his lips into your hair, laying a gentle kiss with every jerk, keeping his own face buried in your neck just holding you for hours—long after the ashes grew cold. He’d helped you get a small house on the edge of town, moved a few things from your old one so you’d never have to face the scene again. The boys made sure everything was covered up and taken care of before finally leaving town.
At a truck stop diner just outside of Lincoln,
The night is black as the coffee he was drinkin',
And in the waitress' eyes he sees the same ol' light a-shinin',
He thinks of Colorado and the girl he left behind him
A Few Years Ago~
Dean graciously accepted the second helping of homemade pecan pie from the cute waitress, already full but unable to pass up on the buy one get one for such delicious pastries. The burger had been great—tasted just like every other diner he’d ever been to. He liked that consistency, it was dependable even when nothing else was, not even his own brother. He took a swig of beer to rinse down the sugary bit stuck in his throat, swirling the slightly bitter liquid over his tongue. The waitress dropped his check, patiently wiping the bar around him, as he was the last customer of the night. Dean dropped a twenty and motioned for her to keep the change. He watched her closely, deciding on whether it would be safe to ask her if he was allowed to charm her into a fun night or not. She met his eyes, but all Dean could see was you behind them, even all these years later. All the relationships and one night stands he’d had in these years, still for most of them he had to imagine they were you. He went round and round with himself—you were safe. This was right. But maybe you weren’t? It’d been years. And so it went, each romp leaving him emptier than the last.
As the waitress gathered her clothes from the floor of his motel room, he drew from the whiskey bottle, savoring the burn as he decided he would go visit.
He said I wanna see you again
But I'm stuck in colder weather
Maybe tomorrow will be better
Can I call you then?
Meanwhile, you’d moved several times. Within a week of Dean leaving you on your doorstep, you’d sold your home to a retired couple, leaving with them a letter should Dean return. Your El Camino became home and you set off, destination anywhere. For years you bounced from place to place, hunting here and there, but mostly going through your days gazing out over the foreign landscapes, mind lost with the wind as you fingered the worn picture in your pocket—the one of you and Dean that you could never look at.
Eventually though, as with all hunters, you grew weary of life on the road and found a little place, no more than a shed really, where rent was cheap and the owners left you to your own devices. Leading a life of such solitude, though, wore you down and you became careless on hunts.
She said you're ramblin' man
You ain't ever gonna change
You got a gypsy soul to blame
And you were born for leavin' (born for leavin')
If you had it your way, the Winchesters and their father would never find you again. And yet, any sign that you were missed at all could’ve changed everything. Maybe you wouldn’t be so careless, fearless. It would’ve saved you a few broken bones and monster bites. Quite possibly, it may have saved a few civilians. No—you stopped yourself. The civilians’ lives were on you. No way around that. You knew. A broken heart was no excuse.
Well, it's a winding road
When you're in the lost and found
You're a lover – I'm a runner
And we go 'round 'n 'round
And I love you but I leave you
I don't want you but I need you
You know it's you who calls me back here, baby
Present Day~
The letter drifted from Dean’s loose fingertips, his other hand having already found his cell phone and speed-dialing Castiel. “I’ll see you someday, maybe” lingered in his vision, burned in your handwriting into his memory.
“Go get her, son,” The old man in his bathrobe leaned on the doorway, his grey-haired wife clutching his arm and nodding in agreement, sad smiles on both their faces.
Dean picked up the paper from the porch, sprinting back to the Impala as Cas finally answered. “Cas!” He all but shouted into the phone. “She’s not here! You’ve got to find her, please.” Cas agreed, already sounding over angel radio after hearing the raw desperation in Dean’s voice.
The angel knew just how much courage it took Dean to go to Texas to look for you in the first place, how much the hunter had battled with himself and promised to do. Dean didn’t break promises and Cas wanted to make sure he didn’t start now.
Oh I wanna see you again
But I'm stuck in colder weather
Maybe tomorrow will be better
Can I call you then?
Cause I'm a ramblin' man
I ain't ever gonna change (I ain't ever gonna change)
I got a gypsy soul to blame
And I was born for leavin' (born for leavin')
You stalked back up to your front door, shotgun cradled in the crook of your arm as you fiddled with the keys, accidently dropping them in the white rosebush you’d planted by the door to remind you of home and the family waiting for you on the other side. As you stooped to retrieve them with a muttered shit, a boot caught your attention from the edge of your vision and you froze. The demon you’d exorcised hadn’t been alone, and you’d never even checked to make sure.
“Well, well. Looks like I get to have a little fun tonight after all.” The demon-possessed mailman sneered at you. Lightning struck in the distance, increasing in frequency. An electric storm. Hopefully another hunter would see it and finish what you couldn’t. You used the moment of distraction to face it, aiming and shooting the salt rounds, managing only to piss it off more. He threw you against the wood siding. “Oh the things I’m going to do to you…” You closed your eyes tightly, preparing for the sure torture to come. Before you realized it, you were calling out for Dean, to which the demon took even greater pleasure, surprised and happy to have something of the Winchesters’.
When I close my eyes I see you
No matter where I am
I can smell your perfume through these whispering pines
I'm with your ghost again
It's a shame about the weather
But I know soon we'll be together
And I can't wait 'til then
I can't wait 'til then
Dean knelt among the still-smoking rubble, the mangled and charred remains of your body covered by a sheet. Castiel had led him here, without saying a word of your condition, instead staring out the window in painful silence. That’s what confirmed to Dean that you’d died.
He’d had no idea the angels only missed you by a few minutes. At least the demon was dead. Those dickbags never even put out the fire that reduced your house to embers with your broken body inside. Caught in the surviving rosebush was the worn photo you’d carried with you for so long. Dean held it in trembling hands, turning and twisting it, unable to fathom that you’d waited so long for him. He paused, bringing the thin paper closer to his face, squinting and wiping away the tears with flannelled shoulder. Written on the back, barely legible, was something akin to the note you’d left.
“I’ll see you on the other side, maybe.”
Dean collapsed in on himself. How different things could’ve turned out if only he’d loaded you in the Impala that night twelve years ago! It was too much to linger on the implications. He could have saved you. The whole reason he’d left was to keep this from happening. It never mattered after all—and he should have been there. Dean would carry this knowledge to the grave. This life weighed on people, especially the Winchesters, as they were always in the center of it. His eyes dried at the thought. Maybe, just maybe, Cas could help him see you in Heaven. If not, Dean knew that his time was borrowed and he’d join you himself.
And out of exhaustion, he counted the days.
The Usual Suspects:
@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamer @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56 @trexrambling @abbessolute @emptywithout
@atc74
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Storm Front
Happy Valentine’s Day to my amazing Secret Valentine, @starscythe!!! I do hope you enjoy this gift, my friend, as you gift us with so many incredible manips all year long. Meeting you in person in November was such a joy, and I hope we can hug in person again in the near future.
Without further adieu, here is your @oqcelebration valentine. :D
He’s heard stories, of course, broken whispers whenever a fierce storm blew in unexpectedly, mumbled musings if an acquaintance suddenly fell ill. These are never voiced loudly, as superstition’s lingering hold on the forest proves to be an ominous task master, leaving such wonderings to drift from one listener to the next, more often than not finding fertile ground stripped bare by black magic’s lingering touch.
The Evil Queen’s dark curse had taken many, but there are those among the forest’s remnants who believe she herself still dwells in this realm. They speak of her in hushed fragments, discuss sightings of a dark, solitary figure who roams the forest at night, a cloaked woman who has somehow lost her magic but now lives bound to it, perhaps in just retribution for a curse so foul it emptied their lands and cast both friend and foe into fates unknown.
Robin has never put much stock into superstition, neither does he give credence to legends or fairy lore. His is a world defined by what he can see, touch and confiscate, a world in which people rarely fit into molds of “good” or “evil”, a world in which he’s observed unspeakable acts committed by the most respected of citizens while those judged as lesser are the very ones who offer shelter and food to the starving. He lives by his wits and senses and surrounds himself with a thieving group of outcasts he’d readily give his life to protect.
Yet even he, the infamous Robin Hood, has to admit that the air feels odd tonight, that there is a charge to the impending storm brewing in the eastern highlands that makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He senses a disturbance, one that feels altogether too personal and close at hand for comfort. Roland must have felt it, too, for the boy had clung to him as Robin soothed his son’s whimpers until he’d finally fallen into a fitful sleep.
It is enough for him to grudgingly admit that tinges of magic probably remain in his forest, even if the queen is nowhere to be found. Dreams of Marian and of his mother plague his sleep and fill him with sense of urgency altogether foreign, one that pushes him towards consciousness even as his body rebels.
A loud clap of thunder finally awakens him, and he’s surprised to find that he’s drenched in sweat. Roland is still sleeping soundly, but one touch to his son’s forehead reveals that the boy is hot with fever. He holds his child close, drawing the blankets up around him, but he worries as all parents do, even as the wind howls just outside their tent.
Roland needs feverfew tea. Unfortunately, their stashes of medicinal herbs have run dry in light of the recent bout of sickness that have ravaged both his men and their families, and he lies there only minutes before deciding to risk a trip to the lake’s edge to gather what he needs. He wakes Little John and asks his friend to keep an ear and eye out for his son before donning his thickest cloak and disappearing into the forest’s canopy. He’s survived far worse storms than this, he reminds himself, ignoring the tingling sensations skittering up his legs that feel altogether supernatural.
The lightning illuminates his path, and he pays attention to both its direction and ferocity, stopping in his tracks as he hears it hit a tree just beyond the hill he’s traversing, watching as light and flame battle rain and wind.
He needs to hurry. This storm has teeth.
He climbs the final ridge, planting his feet with care as he begins the steep descent through clinging branches and thick mud. Sweat mingles with rain on his skin, but he ignores the pressing humidity and the scratches left by angry limbs as his practically skids to halt near the lake’s edge. He kneels by the bushes where his sought flowers grow and grabs them by the fistful, sliding his contraband into the leather pouch he wears draped snugly across his torso. His knees pop when he stands, and he stretches his lower back as he prepares to begin the arduous climb back up a slippery slope, chancing one last glance at the lake as lightning rips open the heavens and casts the world in shades of silver and black. That’s when he sees the impossible.
There’s a woman in the lake. A naked woman.
His breath catches, and he rubs his eyes, thinking he must be imagining the black silhouette standing knee deep in the water, her arms wrapped around her exposed chest, her form small and thin. He steps towards the lake’s edge, calling out to her, his words swallowed by the storm’s fury the moment they leave his mouth. Long hair whips around her body, draping her nudity in partial shadow, and Robin flinches as another streak of lightning strikes far too close for comfort. He has to get her out of here. She’ll most assuredly die if he doesn’t.
He removes his cloak, knowing it will weigh him down if he wears it into the water, and he tightens the pouch around his middle to keep the feverfew as dry as possible. His boots are already wet and mud-caked, but he slides them off as well, knowing they’ll hinder him if they’re completely soaked, and he makes his way into lake. Normally placid waters are choppy, their temperature bitter cold rather than refreshing, but he persists, hearing a dull keening coming from his destination in a tone both throaty and raw.
She must be mentally disturbed, he thinks, and he braces himself for fight as he moves undetected to stand behind her.
“My lady,” he shouts, wanting to alert her to his presence. She turns then, eyes hollow, face shrouded, yet he’s struck by her dark beauty, making him wonder if he’s stumbled upon some mystical creature who secretly inhabits these waters. Perhaps she rises in storms, the paleness of her skin a mere reflection of the water in which she dwells, and he questions for a moment if she’s a silkie, a mermaid given legs, or perhaps a nocturnal siren luring him to his death. But her breathing is both raspy and shallow, alerting him to her vulnerable humanity, so he dares to touch her skin, flinching at its icy temperature.
“You’re freezing,” he states, and she stares at him blankly, making him wonder if she can understand him at all. “We need to get out of the water,” he continues, daring to pull her closer into his body. “It’s not safe here with the storm.”
She says nothing, but her body trembles violently, and that’s all the excuse he needs to pick her up and hold her to his chest. She weighs nothing, he thinks as he wades back to the shore and sits gently with his burden, wondering if she’ll try to run when he sets her down to don his boots and cloak.
Her only movement is to draw her knees to her breasts and bury her head into her knees as her body begins to convulse.
He curses before scooping her up again and covering her with his cloak, frightened by the shaking in her limbs and nearly frozen state of her skin.
“I’ve got you,” he breathes, struggling up the muddy incline, nearly losing his footing once before managing to find a sturdy root sticking out that allows him to regain his balance. Nails dig in through his shirt, clutching him as the convulsions ease. Then her arms fall limp, and he realizes she’s passed out, so he adjusts her against his body as he walks as fast as he can. The wind is his enemy, as is the soft soil that clings to his boots as it tries to suck him into the ground.
Damn this storm to hell.
His legs are burning by the time he reaches his camp and stumbles back into his tent, but Roland is still sleeping, and he sighs in relief before taking in his friend’s shock.
“She needs blankets,” Robin whispers, not bothering with the specifics of where and how he found her. “And hot water. Quickly, John. Please.”
John nods before moving out into the storm to carry out his tasks, and Robin’s legs give out. His pallet cushions his knees, but his joints still rebel as he lands with more force than he’d like on the floor. Thank the gods--she’s still breathing. He’d been half terrified she’d already died.
He lays her out beside his slumbering son, covering her nudity with his own blanket while he rucks through his clothing and pulls out a soft, worn tunic he’s certain will reach her knees.
He raises her up, doing his best not to notice how perfectly formed her breasts are, how dark hair and lashes hauntingly contrast with skin practically the color of snow as he slides the tunic over her body. Gods, she’s freezing, but he’s no good to her in his own soaked state, so he stands and strips out of his wet clothing before donning a fresh pair of trousers.
“Here you go,” John breathes as he steps back into the tent. He stands near the entrance and hands Robin a quilt and a bear skin. “Where did you find her?”
“In the lake,” Robin replies, watching the other man’s eyes widen. “She’s chilled to the bone and a bit out of her mind, I think. I need to get her warm immediately.”
“Skin to skin,” John mutters, looking at Robin directly. “That spreads warmth the fastest, you know. Hold her to your chest, and I’ll cover you both with these. You need to warm up, too, Rob.”
Robin pauses but a second before nodding and sliding onto the bedroll beside her and pulling her to his chest. He considers John’s words and exhales as he tugs down the tunic he’d just put on her so bare flesh meets bare flesh. His teeth chatter as her icy skin envelops him, but he holds her close as John covers them both.
“Hold on,” the large man whispers. “I’ll pour tea for the both of you. You may not be sick yet, but tending to Roland and wading out into freezing lakes aren’t exactly recipes for good health.”
Robin smiles as he manages to prop himself up on two pillows, feeling the woman’s ribcage to make certain she still breathes. She coughs as if on cue, a sound full of fluid that hurts to hear, and he finds himself drawing her cheek into his chest, whispering assurances into ears that might not understand a word he speaks.
The tea is scalding, and Robin sets it on the ground beside him to let it cool as John prepares another mug for Roland.
“Would you like me to take the lad back to my tent?” John questions. “I’ll tend to him as if he were my own, Rob. You know that.”
He considers this for a moment, but shakes his head.
“I don’t doubt your sincerity for a second,” Robin whispers. “But I can’t stand the thought of being away from him when he’s ill.”
John nods before reaching down to touch Roland’s forehead.
“He’s still feverish,” John breathes. He adds some cold water to cool the boy’s tea before pulling him into a semi-upright position and managing to get half of the mug down Roland’s throat. Roland snuggles back under the blankets, eyes still closed, and rolls over until he come into contact with the unconscious woman lying beside him.
“His body heat along with yours should warm her up in no time,” John observes as he stands. “Can I do anything else, Rob? Do you want me to stay here for the rest of the night?”
“No,” Robin whispers, managing a sip of his tea. “You’ve done more than enough, John. Go get some rest. I may need your help again tomorrow.”
“Whatever you say,” John says before exiting the tent, securing the flap back in place against the elements. The woman sighs and relaxes into him reflexively, her hand coming to rest over his chest, and he covers her frozen digits with his palm, wondering what could have prompted such a beautiful creature to stand unclothed in a raging lake, to tempt both fate and nature to do their worst. Had she been abused? Had she lost her family--a husband, or a child perhaps?
Was she mentally disturbed?
He can’t bring himself to believe the latter, not as her fingers reflexively move over his heart, as her breath tickles his neck, and he voices a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening that both she and Roland will recover completely, that she will be granted the second chance his Marian had been denied. He stretches his arm out far enough to cup his son’s shoulder and watches as the boy’s hand reaches out in sleep and alights on the woman’s arm.
“Mama,” he breathes, cracking Robin’s heart open with one word. His son has no memory of his mother, having lost her not long after his very birth, so to hear him call out for Marian is jarring. He’s still reeling when the woman beside him turns her body towards Roland, seeking his son in her unconscious state, wrapping the boy into her body, cradling him as if he’d been born of her womb.
Roland sighs and relaxes into her, settling into the stranger as if she’s a missing piece of himself. Robin can barely breathe as he watches, fighting tears as he sits up to stare at the pair of them, half wanting to rip them from each other, half feeling as if he’s witnessing something sacred. Her skin begins to thaw before his eyes, her flesh taking on hues of pink that chase away the chilled pallet of the moon, and he swallows hard, knowing some sort of magic is afoot here.
He hears humming, a low, throaty melody emanating from the woman’s chest, one he recognizes as being from the low country--his own mother’s land, one that had lulled him to sleep more times than he can remember. His mother’s scent overwhelms him, a combination of magnolia and lavender, and he takes another sip of his tea, wondering if he’s hallucinating, if this is all a dream brought on by fever.
He knows somehow it is not.
Robin’s mind grows heavy as his eyes fall shut, and he is lulled into a deep sleep untroubled by dreams or thunder. He wakes later to the sound of magpies and ravens, to a robin’s call, and he sits straight up, startled by the fact he’d slept at all. He looks beside him, to the woman and Roland who are now cocooned together as if they were mother and son. He feels the boy’s forehead and breathes a sigh of relief at it’s cool, clammy texture before touching the woman’s arm and smiling at the normal temperature of her skin. Nimble fingers slide down her body to pull up the tunic he’d slid down last night to warm her, disturbing Roland in the process of covering her breasts and thighs.
Dark lashes flutter, and the boy slowly gazes up at him, smiling drowsily before succumbing to a yawn.
“Papa,” Roland mutters, prompting Robin to lean over the woman and kiss his boy’s forehead.
“How are you feeling?” Robin questions, toying with dark curls matted with sleep and sweat.
“Better,” Roland whispers, snuggling into the woman beside him. “She told me I had to get better.”
Robin swallows, staring at the still sleeping form between them, unable to look away from full lips slightly parted, gratified to hear that the rattling in her chest seems to have subsided.
“She?” His question cracks open on his tongue, and he looks from the woman to his boy, almost certain she has gently drawn Roland closer.
“My lady,” Roland replies, coughing until Robin offers him a sip of tepid tea. Roland flinches as he drinks, but settles back into their guest willingly and lightly touches her chest. “Her.”
“You spoke with her?” Robin asks, his gut twisting into an emotion he cannot identify as a decidedly feminine hum tickles his ribcage.
“While I was sleeping,” Roland states, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “She sang to me, too. Let me crawl into her lap.”
He stares at the stranger, now certain she possesses magic of some sort. He would dismiss all of what his son is saying as a dream if it weren’t for what he himself had witnessed.
“Did she tell you her name?” Robin asks, continuing to stroke Roland’s hair as he shakes his head.
“I asked her if she was my mama,” Roland confesses. “She said no, that she wasn’t anyone’s mama, so I asked her if she could be mine since I don’t have one.” Robin’s chest constricts, trapping both air and unspent grief.
“What did she say?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“She said she didn’t deserve a sweet boy like me,” Roland replies. “That she’s done too many bad things to be a mama, but I told her she didn’t look bad to me.” Roland snuggles into her then, and Robin watches in amazement as her fingers move into the boy’s hair, brushing against his own. “She cried then and let me crawl into her lap. That’s when she sang to me. She’s not bad, Papa. She just thinks she is.”
Recognition takes root, and he stares down at her face, the manicured brows, the raven-hued lashes, hair the color of night, and he pauses, wondering at this odd twist of fate that would deliver a broken, evil queen to heal his pure little boy. She’d been ready to die last night, Robin is certain of it now, yet Roland’s illness had ironically saved her life.
It would seem she has healed his son in return.
He watches in fascination as her lashes blink open, as velvet-hewn eyes slowly take in her surroundings, as panic is replaced by a smile when his son touches her cheek. He smells magnolia again, and shakes it off, confused enough by what is taking place in front of his very eyes as a woman feared by all and detested by many embraces his little boy.
“Hi, lady,” Roland says, wrapping his arms around her waist and hugging her tight. Tears brim the corners of her eyes, and she avoids looking at Robin, choosing to focus on the child clinging to her as his tattoo begins to itch. Her breath catches when he scratches it, her gaze moving towards him reluctantly, her eyes widening in what appears to be terror. He smiles down at her, wanting to assure her that he won’t hurt her, that she’s safe here, that regardless of what she may have done in her past, she just healed his son, and that’s not something that either her or Roland will ever forget.
“Good morning,” he mutters, struck again by how small she appears as she tugs in his tunic, pulling it higher over her shoulder. A shiver runs down his spine as she stares at his bared arm, her eyes blinking in rapid succession as he gently adds, “My lady.”
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