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gwynrielsupremacist · 3 years

Text

CONSTELATIONS

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The sound of the Shadowsinger’s heavy breaths plus the splashing from the bathroom echoed throughout the room

Azriel was fucked.

But really, really fucked.

His hands felt sweaty against the cool and soft fabric of his bedsheets, undone after so many times he had shifted his position while he waited for his mate to leave the bathroom and go into bed with him.

They had discovered that they were mates a few weeks ago, and they had agreed to take things easy.

But, the progress that was to occur that night, it overwhelm him

He raised his body, supporting his elbow and extending his muscled neck, trying to see if Gwyn would appear through the doorway.

He still didn’t believe that such a female, that priestess, was his mate.

He still didn’t believe his feelings were reciprocal.

Seeing she wouldn’t show up yet, he flopped onto the bed, running the back of his hand over his eyes, sighing.

Shadows crawled up his scarred fingers, trying to soothe his nerves, but nothing succeeded. He glanced at the time in the clock that sat on his nightstand. She had been in the bath for 30 minutes.

“Has something happened to her?” He asked.

“She will come, Shadowsinger” The shadows reassured him. “She’s as nervous as you”

He stretched the collar of his nightshirt to catch some air in his lungs. He normally slept shirtless and in simple black shorts that left little to imagination, but he supposed his normal clothing would make the priestess uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to be the reason for her discomfort.

He looked down at his hands, scarred and burned.

“You don’t deserve her. You’re just the bastard of an Illyrian lord”. His insecurities told him.

“That’s a lie, Shadowsinger. She loves you, and you’re worthy of her, as much as she is worthy of you” His shadows answered, attacking his own thoughts.

“You’re a blood-thirsty bastard, when she knows all your secrets, she will run away”.

“Attack those thoughts, Shadowsinger, those thoughts are nothing but your insecurities” They fought back.

“I am worthy of her. She loves me and I love her” Azriel thought, closing the insecurities with a padlock and tearing them outside, destroying it.

He sighted, placing a palm in his heart, noticing how his heartbeat was normalizing.

The shadows started to move, heading to the arc of his wings, settling there and calmly observing their master.

Azriel shifted, lying on his stomach, no longer hearing the sound of his mate splashing in the tub.

It had all started when Gwyn appeared in the training ring, while he was performing his night stretches.

Apparently, she hadn’t been able to sleep and had grown tired of reading the book she, Nesta and Emerie had started to criticize it, and had headed to the training ring to perform dagger exercises, finding Azriel there.

They had started doing combinations of lunges and dagger blocks and when they were both satisfied, thay headed to their room, hand in hand.

She had gone downstairs to the priestesses’ rooms for a moment, looking for a nightgown to sleep in, while he took a quick shower, wiping all the sweat from his body.

When he came out of the bathroom, dressed in his pajamas, Gwyn was already there, looking around the room.

His room wasn’t one of the largest in the House. He believed that Cassian’s was the biggest, with all his gadgets and gadgets he kept there, but his was cozy. He doesn’t need anything else.

Well, maybe a priestess sleeping everynight in his bed, in his arms. He wouldn’t mind.

In one corner was a study with two chairs, next to a three-seater sofá with a tea table in front of it. In the center of the room was where the huge bed was located, next to which were two chests, one with clothes and the other with weapons, in addition to the weapons that were hidden throughout the room.

The moment Gwyn saw him, she ran into the bathroom, and there she is currently.

The sound of footsteps startled him, sitting up and searching with his gaze for the gorgeous priestess, finding her grasping the edge of her nightgown uneasily, in the middle of the bathroom door.

The nightgown was a simple cobalt blue negligeé, with lace at the top, running down her creamy neck to the V of her breasts, ending below her knees.

It was simple, but fucking sexy.

He would already thank Nesta and Emerie for the purchase, because he was sure as hell it had been the choice of those two. He gulped, avoiding thinking of the bulge already forming in his pants.

Azriel smiled at her, tapping the spot next to him, inviting her to sit down next to him.

She smiled back, blushing as she approached the bed, sitting down and smoothing the hem of her nightgown, placing her cheek on the Shadowsinger’s shoulder, revealing part of her whitish neck and the curve of her breasts.

He was very screwed up.

“Are you okay?” Az asked, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles.

She nodded, letting herself be carried away by her touch, as she wrapped her hands around her body.

They felt silent, staring at each other while innocent caresses were made.

“Do you want a particular side or…? She asked, laughing quietly as she grabbed his hand and traced the scars on his hand.

“I have no problem” He shrugged, caressing her hand as he pulled her into his body, sitting her on his lap.

Gwyn blushed, realizing where exactly she was sitting, but he brought his legs together, letting her not to be sitting right on top of his cock.

“Thank you” She said as she brought her lips to his cheek, kissing it slowly, then hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek and murmuring “No problem” in her ear, then kissing her lobe, earning a shudder from her part.

Suddenly Gwyn raised her head and started looking around the room, her face puzzled.

“Where are your shadows?” She asked, searching the corners to see if they were there.

“Hidden, apparently” He explained.

“We’re here” Answered his shadows. “We didn’t want to trouble our priestess” They said as ribbons of night appeared out of nowhere, approaching the Spymaster’s neck, some of them touching and licking the wrists of the female sitting in his legs.

“According to them, they didn’t want to appear in case you felt uncomfortable with them” He explained, noticing how the shadows hid in the arch of his wings, observing from there the scene between the two lovers.

Gwyn chuckled, reaching out to a shadow, letting it surround her.

“I don’t mind if they’re with us” She admitted, as more shadows joined the already present. “They have never bothered me. In fact, they’re a comforting presence.”

Azriel laughed. A noteworthy laugh, out of the stomach.

“Do you consider my shadows a comforting presence?” A low chuckle came out of him, while he brought his lips to her neck and arranged small kisses in the area.

“Sure” She emphasized, noticing goosebumps on her arm. “Why should your shadows bother me?”

Azriel was silent, preferring to keep kissing her neck.

He noticed how she smiled, lightly grasping his hair, entangling her fingers in the fine strands of his raven hair.

He slid down onto the massive bed, getting Gwyn to straddle his thighs, earning a punch to the arm.

He feigned pain, grabbing his arm and twisting carefully from his wings, while he listened to her laughter and the whisper of the shadows running through their bodies.

“Enough of teasing me!” She yelled, red with embarrassment, as she climbed off his lap and onto her side, ignoring his laughter and attempts to roll her onto her back.

Finally Azriel circled Gwyn’s hips, pulling her closer to him, spooning, entangling their legs under the sheets.

“I’m not making fun of you” He lied, peppering her neck with kisses.

Gwyn turned, looking into his eyes as she teased him.

“Be careful lest I remove your tongue with my teeth” He flirted, earning a blush from her part.

She turned back, ignoring him.

Azriel lowered his gaze from the creamy porcelain skin on her neck to the area where their bodies nearly collided. discovering that the nightgown Gwyn was wearing had risen above her hips, earning a switch toward his cock from the sight of her panties, watching her long legs and thinking how they would feel if they were tangled around his hips as he slammed hard against her-

He noticed that the female in his arms began to tremble, realizing in that moment he had screwed up more than at any other time.

“Gwyn. Gwyn I’m so sorry” He apologized, moving quickly and putting a good few meters between both bodies, noticing the strong smell of arousal that was in the room. “Love, are you okay?”

She nodded, turning to find Azriel staring at her, eyes filled with remorse and concern.

“I’m sorry” She said, wrapping her arms around her body, tears falling from her eyes.

“She’s not angry with you, Master” The shadows commented.

“Who is she mad at then?” He answered them.

“With herself” They replied. “She’s angry for not having control of her body and therefore not being able to be intimate with you.”

He was silent for a moment, thinking about how to tell her what she needed to understand without her freaking out.

He reached out his hand, asking with his gaze for her to grasp it, taking both hands and intertwining them. That was exactly just what she did-

“It’s okay, love” He confirmed hers, soothing her skin with his thumb. “Let’s go at your pace, there’s no need to rush.”

She shook her head, looking at both clasped hands: “What if we can never be intimate because of me… because of my trauma?”

“Then we’ll not have intimacy” He assured her, bringing her knuckles closer and kissing them carefully. “I’m not with you for having sex, I’m with you because I love you. If we can’t have sex, then we won’t have sex.

She nodded slightly, moving closer to her body until they were nose to nose.

“It’s… my body… the problem” She confirmed.

He cocked his head: “Why do you think your body is the problem?

How can she think that her body, her gorgeous body, is the problem?

“Because you have had a multitude of lovers, surely with a better body than me, who will know how to satisfy you better than me” She told him. “I have… scars on the inner part of my thighs and hips and…” She replied while shallowly crying that little by little were falling down their teal eyes. “I have freckles all over my body and…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, preferring to hide her face on his neck while she tried to calm herself down.

He ran his hand across her back, making circles with his fingers to relax her muscles.

“Honey… Of course I have had many lovers, but I have only allowed one of them to know me thoroughly, and that’s you, my love” He replied, kissing the crown of her hair. “I haven’t seen your whole body, but I’m sure it’s just as breathtaking as I imagined it to be.” He murmured. grabbing her hand and kissing it softly. “And why the hell do you think I would hate your freckles?

She sniffed, looking into his eyes as he brought his scarred fingers closer and wiped the tears that fell from her eyes.

“In Sangravah they always compared us… Catrin and me” Gwyn recalled. “They always said Catrin was the beautiful one while I was the… cute one. I always assumed that it was because I had this hair and these stupid freckles.

Azriel had a painful time trying not to rip the head off those who said that to his mate.

“Well, that’s a lie, because you’re fucking beautiful and I love those freeckles”. He recognized as he traced patterns on her cheeks, following their path.

Gwyn began to blush, placing her mouth on the corners of Azriel’s lips, giving him small kisses and then hiding in the hollow of his neck again, leaving kisses there alike, earning a shudder from the male.

“This female is going to be the end of me” He thought, as he arched his neck to give her more room to kiss.

She laughed lightly, looking up, meeting Azriel's gaze locked in her lips.

The atmosphere suddenly was charged with the arousal of both, him and her.

They began to get closer little by little.

There had been very few occasions that they had kissed on the lips, and the tension of the moment could be cut with scissors.

They kept getting closer until there were only inches left for their lips to collide, breathing in each other's breath.

"Can I… Can I kiss you?" He asked. Always asking permission, always the safety of his mate first. If she wanted to leave things right then and there, Azriel would be happy just holding her through the night.

Azriel didn't discover that he had been breathless until she nodded, until both lips met in a noteworthy explosion.

It was a simple kiss, Azriel knew he shouldn't push until she decided to, but they were both too tired to deepen the kiss.

Gwyn parted her lips little by little, silently demanding the kiss to be deepened, and Azriel was perfectly willing to make his mate enjoy the experience to the fullest.

He parted his lips, letting both tongues collide shyly, kissing and kissing and kissing until they had to part to breathe.

They both smiled, peaking at each other's lips, until Gwyn dropped onto Azriel's chest, visibly tired and with her eyes almost closed.

"Are we sleepy, Berdara?" He teased her, kissing the top of her head as she nodded silently, burying her head deeper into his chest, inhaling the scent of cedar and night mist.

"Tomorrow we have training?" She asked him sleepily.

"Yes, we do" He replied, grabbing the sheets that had fallen by the side, leaving them on both bodies "I will wake you up, just sleep now, my love, you have earned it".

She smiled slightly, kissing his neck one last time as her breathing became more and more rhythmic. She had fallen asleep.

In his arms.

She had fallen asleep in his arms.

He smiled slightly, the only person who would allow to see that sensitive part of him.

"Good night, my love" He whispered in her ear, kissing the lobe and falling into the most restful and deep sleep he had in years.

——————————————————————————

Gwyn hadn't slept this well in a long time.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of his mate's room, illuminating the entire room. She turned her gaze, finding his handsome mate asleep peacefully, with one arm under the pillow and the other resting delicately on her stomach, protectively.

She smiled slightly, her gaze running over the man who shared the bed. His hair was facing everywhere from sleep, her wings curled up behind him, the membranes catching the sun's heat and forming shapes on them. She perceived, not with a little joy and excitement, that part of his shirt had risen, revealing his tanned abs.

She didn't know what time it was, but he was supposed to wake them both up, so she decided to put her head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

She suddenly felt the arm that was on his stomach stretch, as did the other on the pillow. She had woken him up.

"You look like a cat stretching" She laughed, brushing away the hair that had fallen over his eyes, meeting Azriel's hazel eyes staring at her, clouded with sleep.

He smiled slightly, leaving kisses on her neck, causing shudders throughout her body.

"Let me sleep" He replied with a hoarse and dark voice.

"We have to go to training" She counterattacked, trying to lift his arm that fell under her hands again, without success.

"Five more minutes" He murmured, yawning.

"I can't believe the brooding Spymaster of the Night Court is demanding me five more minutes of sleep" She chuckled, pounding her arm.

He growled, nipping her shoulder playfully.

Gwyn gave up, letting Azriel lightly bite as much of her neck as he wanted.

They did not know how long they stayed in that position, the Shadowsinger kissing and nibbling the priestess's neck and shoulder, while she allowed herself to be done.

Finally he got tired, raising his mouth to meet hers, giving her a kiss.

"Good morning" He whispered between kisses, biting lightly on Gwyn's bottom lip, causing a sensation of heat to settle in the lower part of his stomach.

"Good morning to you too" She replied, stroking Azriel's back, careful not to touch her wings, the shadows nowhere in sight.

Gwyn had already received that talk about Illyrian wings from Nesta and Emerie, who were the first to discover that the two were "together". She knew perfectly well that she shouldn't touch Azriel's wings without his permission.

Suddenly Azriel tensed, and Gwyn feared that she hadn't been careful enough and she had touched something she shouldn't have until a shadow came to view and settled into his ear, telling him something.

The Shadowsinger grabbed the sheets that had moved, covering both bodies at the same moment someone opened the door.

"AZRIEL, GWYN IS NOT IN HER…" Nesta interrupted in the room, almost ripping the door out of her place, Cassian behind her.

But while Nesta's gaze was concerned, Cassian was trying not to laugh at that very moment.

Cassian knew perfectly well why Gwyn was not in her room that night.

"H-Hi" Gwyn greeted, watching her best friend's reaction.

Nesta was speechless, staring at the Spymaster, then Gwyn, and then her mate, realizing why Cassian wasn't the least bit worried.

"You knew it! You knew where Gwyn had been and you made me scared about her safety!" Nesta screeched, too loud for Gwyn's newly awakened hearing.

"I was imagining where Gwyn might have been," Cassian laughed, casting glances at Azriel, who growled menacingly at Cassian and Nesta, demanding that they immediately leave her room.

"See you at breakfast," Cassian announced, to which he was met with another higher-pitched growl from Azriel, closing the door and leaving both lovers in the room again.

Gwyn began to laugh, to which Azriel looked at her strangely, not understanding why his mate laughed when those two had caught them.

"It was very embarrassing" She said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, getting up from the bed and approaching the leathers that she had brought from her room.

She turned to find Azriel sitting on her bed, staring at her with amusement in his eyes.

"Are you going to stay there all day or are you going to help me train?" To which she earned a crooked smile from her mate, getting up and heading to the bathroom to change clothes.

She left the room to change into another bathroom, meeting Nesta, looking at her with love, as if to say:

"I am proud of you, sister."

TAG LIST: @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel

#gwynriel #gwynriel fic #azriel #gwyn #acosf #azriel x gwyn #acotar #gwyneth berdara #acowar

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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Shards of Ice

There was a lot of yelling in tags, reblogs and comments about Lambert needing to be loved following this post. You should have been more careful with what you wished for, because before things can get better, they need to get worse. But he gets his happy ending, don't worry.

CW: Suicidal thoughts

The room was cold and dusty but Lambert no longer had the energy to care. It was a room, his room, as barren as it was. He had survived trekking up to Kaer Morhen, at least he wouldn't be exposed to the elements so it was a bit better, even if there was no roaring fire. There wasn't even any wood in his room to start one. It would have to wait. Much like food could wait too, Lambert still had a few rations and some water in his pack, that would see him through the next couple of days while his leg finished healing. He so desperately wished he had something to take for it, even just a root to chew on for the pain but he'd run out of potions a while back and had been too caught in grief to even think about making more. At least he had a bed to lie on, that was better than the cold, hard forest floor. Lambert would take any small fortune as a blessing at that point.

Sleep claimed him and didn't release him until the sun was high the next day. Groggy, stiff from sleeping in his armour, and ravenous, Lambert pushed himself up. In the light of day his room looked no better, still just as empty and stale as when he'd walked in. If he could, he would have gone for a wash, anything to freshen up but his leg protested too much. In the end, he sat on the floor next to his bed, munching on a ration of cured meat, willing himself not to feel.

The others had to know he was back. He'd made enough noise, they probably even saw him approaching. But obviously he had no place in their lives. A dogsbody who was good for making their lives easier but didn't warrant anything in return. Not that Lambert did it to get something. But he'd always thought family looked after each other, took turns picking up the slack when one of them stumbled. As the day wore on and Lambert pulled his bedroll onto his bed for a bit of extra warmth, there was only one conclusion he could draw. While he had counted Geralt, Eskel and Vesemir as his family, they didn't think of him in a similar fashion.

On his own with his thoughts, Lambert had the chance to mull it all over. He had been a fool to think his fellow Witchers would consider him part of their family unit. Not even Lambert's own flesh and blood had done that. Just because Destiny threw them in the same cooking pot didn't mean were all part of the same cake. Though Aiden had been different. He had seen Lambert, all of him and decided that he was worth something. Desperate fury at the unfairness of it all had Lambert's lips wobbling even if tears were beyond him. He raged against his lot in life and the fact that the one possible good thing had been ripped from him. Nobody wanted Lambert and, when he found someone who did, they were violently snatched from his grasp.

With nothing do do but sleep and heal, Lambert didn't bother keeping track of the days. While his food and water lasted he would be okay. And when it ran out, he'd decide what he wanted then. Time stopped existing for Lambert, he was either asleep or wallowing in misery. It wasn't like anyone actually cared that his behaviour was very unbecoming of a Witcher, let alone a fully grown man. Lambert figured that if nobody wanted him at his best, it didn't matter what he was like at his worst.

A soft knock woke him from his slumber. It was better to sleep than get lost in his head. Why someone would try to take his only solace from him was beyond Lambert and he woke with a snarl. His leg still pulsed with pain, his room was still cold though he had managed to somewhat air it while the sun was high so it was maybe a little less chilly.

"Lambert?" Eskel's voice called as the door opened. "You missed breakfast again."

All Lambert heard was that he hadn't provided breakfast once again. He'd been back for probably a few days but soft foods and warm honey hadn't magically appeared on the breakfast table for the others. Well, it served them right.

"Go away!" He growled low in his throat.

"I just wanted-"

"Fuck off!" Lambert didn't let Eskel finish. Whatever Eskel wanted, he could get for himself. "I don't want you! I don't need you! Just leave me the fuck alone!" He threw his gloves at the door, followed by his bracers which clanked loudly against the wood, barely missing Eskel's face.

For the first time in his life, Lambert got what he asked for. The door closed again and he was alone. A strangled scream mixed with a sob in his throat and he curled up on the bed, heart and chest aching worse than his leg.

Time had no meaning, Lambert stayed curled up under his blanket, eyes open but not seeing. He'd had enough. Enough pain, enough rejection, enough loneliness. His rations were dwindling but he couldn't even find it in himself to finish them off. There was no point, it would only prolong his suffering.

Another soft knock on his door but he didn't even bother acknowledging it. He was done, the others could get on with their happy little family, they didn't need Lambert in any capacity, that had become obvious in the last few days.

The door opened and Eskel stepped in, an armful of logs and a bag of kindling in hand. He didn't say anything but got a fire going and left. The warmth of the room didn't reach Lambert's heart. He stayed where he was, even when Vesemir stepped in, a bucket of steaming water and a couple of wash cloths. Lambert didn't even have it in him to growl when hands methodically stripped him and wiped the worst of the Path's grime from his body. Fingers deftly worked the bandage on his leg open and, like when Lambert was a kid who'd scraped his knee, the injury got tutted over. Vesemir left and Lambert wondered whether he was such a disappointment that the fact he couldn't even heal from a simple bite had sent the man he'd once considered his father figure turning away in disgust.

For some reason Vesemir was back with a tray. It smelled like medical supplies but Lambert couldn't understand why. Firm hands worked over his leg, cleaning out the wounds, wrapping them. Finally, a vial was tipped against Lambert's lips and he swallowed, hoping it was poison to put him out of his misery. He fell asleep with the sweet bitterness of the potion still on his tongue and decided that maybe this wasn't such a bad way to go.

Unfortunately he woke up again. This time Geralt was in his room, a bowl of broth warming by the hearth. Lambert finally found his words.

"What the fuck do you want?"

He pretended not to see the way Geralt flinched and looked away. It filled him with a sense of perverse satisfaction, knowing that he repulsed his, well, Geralt wasn't his brother, not anymore. Not that he ever was actually.

"Eat," Geralt said, grabbing the warm bowl and holding it up. When Lambert made no move to take it, he fiddled with the spoon. "I can help feed you if you need."

Growling, Lambert snatched the bowl, ignoring the way it was so hot his fingers almost burned. The broth was good, seasoned with his favourites, not that the others would know, they never bothered to ask him. Still, it slid down his throat and warmed his belly, so close to his still stone cold heart.

Anger bubbled in Lambert's chest. The others couldn't even leave him be to make a dignified exit from this world. For some cursed reason now was the time they decided to bring Lambert back, even as he fought tooth and nail to be left. From then on, Lambert never woke alone. There was always someone in his room, never once commenting on his nightmares. Maybe they didn't notice, or thought it was just Lambert's regular dreams.

"Who is Aiden?" Eskel asked one night when Lambert woke, heart in his throat. "You call out for him a lot."

It wasn't something Lambert wanted to answer. He didn't want to trust Eskel with Aiden's memory. It wasn't something he had earned. However, each time Eskel was there and Lambert awoke from a fresh nightmare, he was asked the same question. There was only so many times that Lambert could hear those words before he snapped. At first it was just a gruff "nobody" then a "none of your business" to "a friend". It went on and on like that until Eskel had the full story, with Lambert held close to his chest and shaking like a new born foal.

When Lambert finally left his room, it was with Geralt hot on his heels. Something told Lambert that he knew about Aiden too. Those suspicions were only confirmed when, in the kitchen, Geralt casually said, "I'll come with you in the spring. We'll avenge him."

By the time spring came round, Lambert didn't feel quite so hollow. His heart had started to thaw out but the clump of ice that sat heavy in his chest could barely be called a heart anymore. Over the winter he'd been shown what it could have been like to be part of a family, to be wanted but he couldn't quite connect with the others anymore. The trust he'd offered had been twisted and warped until it was nothing more than a burnt silhouette of what it had once been.

Lambert was no fool. He knew Geralt travelled with him not just for revenge but also for Lambert's safety. It wasn't like Lambert was going to throw himself at the first chort he found. That was not how he wanted to go. But the others didn't care to listen to him in that respect. In a way, nothing had changed in that regard. Lambert's voice was still one to be ignored.

Winter came round quicker than expected. Lambert and Geralt turned north to Kaer Morhen and trekked up the mountain. There was smoke meandering through the air from the fires that had already been lit. It wasn't the Lambert had wanted to come back but he had nowhere else to go either. At least in the old keep he could actually survive winter in relative safety.

"Welcome home boys," Vesemir said as he stepped out the greet them, hugging Lambert first, then Geralt. "Eskel is already home and he's brought a guest with him."

Distantly, Lambert wondered how Geralt would react to Eskel having a guest. And maybe he was a little jealous that Eskel, despite his scars and menacing build, could find someone to winter with so easily. There was only one person Lambert had ever considered inviting home but that had only been a fleeting hope of the past, Destiny had made sure to quash it without hesitation.

"Lamb?" A familiar voice called and Lambert's whole chest hurt. His mind was cruel to play such games, taunting him with the one thing he couldn't have. "Lambert!"

A body barrelled into Lambert, arms wrapping around him tightly. Lips pressed against Lambert's and he tried to see who was stupid enough to mess around with him like that. It wasn't Eskel, his arms felt heavier around him. Eyes open for the kiss, Lambert saw an eyepatch and, as his assailant pulled away, a familiar green eye.

"Aiden." The word was a broken whisper of hope and disbelief. Lambert's hands cupped Aiden's cheeks, held him in place to be inspected, admired and committed to memory. "I thought you'd died. I'd avenged you."

"You're a real darling, thank you for that." Aiden smiled and placed his hands over Lambert's, warm palms holding glove covered ones in place. "But, by some twist of fate, I survived, more or less intact. Took a while to recover, Eskel found me in some remote temple, being healed by some monks. Dragged me back here as soon as I was able to make the journey."

Hands slipping from Aiden's face, Lambert pulled him in for a tight hug, eyes squeezed shut tight. He let Aiden go but only as far as keeping an arm wrapped around his waist. From where he stood, he looked over to the other three Wolves, standing together and watching them. Maybe, just maybe, they were more of a family than Lambert had dared hope. He wasn't certain yet, needed more time to accept that. But, for the first time in a long time, he had he spark of hope flickering in his heart.

#lambden #minor geralt/eskel #lambert #eskel #geralt of rivia #vesemir #aiden #cw: suicidal thoughts #tldr: lambert loses all hope before it comes back

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soshesighs · 4 years

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Fic: Need

Oh hey, I made a new tumblr, so I guess I should actually post this instead of just sharing the google doc link in discord?

Fandom: @speakergame Pairing: Li/Speaker/Seb poly

Notes: Based on this ask, mostly a writing experiment for me. I set out to write a fic without any specifics for Li or Speaker (so this is second person ‘you’ for Speaker and ‘they’ for Li, not specifying between Liam or Lily). I wanted to make this as general as possible! The biggest thank you to the folks in the Speaker discord for being genuinely the nicest, most supportive people. I hadn’t shared anything I’d written publicly in about seven years before sharing a couple of things with them, and I’m not sure I would’ve had the guts without the overwhelmingly kind response in there.

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You are flying.

Soaring, arms flung out wide, letting the currents in the air cradle you along, caressing your skin until you break out in goosebumps - a ghost of a touch that feels so familiar, like a lover’s embrace.

You tilt your head back and take a deep breath, as if you could bottle and capture this moment in time and keep it with you always: the sun warming your face, hair flying about wildly around you - full of tangles and as free and untamed as you.

You are flying.

You should land, some part of your mind nags, but freedom’s call surges even louder overtop, gale force winds compared to the mere breeze of responsibility trailing down your back.

So you don’t. You squeeze your eyes shut tighter, exhale out every fear and painful thought, and flex your fingers, bidding the wind to keep you afloat, keep you from drowning.

Can you drown in the air?

A sudden fearful burst, a fist clenched tight around your heart, and you feel yourself freeze, your conviction falter. And suddenly, there is a headwind, turbulence where there once was none, nothing below.

You are falling.

And the wind, your friend, has suddenly turned so, so cold.

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You awake with a start, shivering, eyes darting about wildly as your heart pounds, trying to discover what flung you back into sudden consciousness. You move to sit up, reaching out blindly for the blankets that should be covering you, but instead find a hand sliding slowly onto your waist - a calming, familiar weight. It takes you a moment, clenching your eyes and taking in a ragged breath, to realize what it means.

“You’re back,” you whisper, voice cracking towards the end. Maybe they’ll think it’s just from sleep-induced lack of use, you hope. But they’ve always been more observant than that.

They tug you back down from where you’ve pushed yourself into a half-sit, silently beckoning you to come back to bed.

As soon as you’re situated again, you feel the cool slide of their nose against the heated skin of your neck, lips pressing lightly to where your pulse still flutters wildly beneath your skin. “I am,” they say, quietly, so as not to wake your other partner somehow still sleeping softly beside you. “Breathe. It’s just me.”

A shaky exhale seems to hardly bring you any relief, but you feel their lips quirk up in a smile against you for having heard you try.

“We - we thought…” you trail off, swallowing hard around the words that seem lodged in your throat. Echoes of falling, crashing down, still fresh in your mind.

But they don’t push. They never do. They just hum softly in curious acknowledgement, waiting for you to continue. After the silence lingers a bit longer than normal, they seem to decide that perhaps distraction is their better course of action.

“How’d you get Bas to sleep?” they ask, hand sliding briefly off your waist to brush ever-so-gently against the other person at your side. Not enough to wake, but he still somehow arches into the touch, pushing back against the familiar touch even in slumber.

It brings the slightest of smiles to your lips, and you reach down to thread your fingers with theirs, settling both your hands against the other person’s hip. It’s only then that you notice - or perhaps you had before, but your own tidal wave of fear drowned it out - just how cold they feel, the slight tremor running as an undercurrent to their entire system.

You roll slightly, twisting onto your side until you’re facing them (but even still, your toes reach out beneath the covers to find Sebastian behind you - always touching them both when they’re around, as if you need to be sure they’re real and there and unharmed, your grounding forces). Sliding your hand from theirs, you reach up to gently brush their hair back from their face, letting the touch linger as you examine them fully.

“You’re hurt,” you whisper instead of answering their question, that fist squeezing your heart again until you feel as if it might burst.

“Not hurt,” they insist. As your fingers trail down the soft angles of their face, they pretend to nip playfully at them - it’s almost enough to earn a soft laugh from you, but even in the dark of the bedroom, you can see that the usual playful spark simply isn’t there in their eyes.

Brows furrowed, you pull back, settling your hand instead on their chest. “You're trembling.”

Their eyes close then, a quiet concession - the weariness clearly written on their features, and you know then that they’ve had a mask up all night, not letting anyone see how drained they were slowly getting. It only just now begins to crack, now that they’re safely home with you both.

“Li,” you begin, but a stirring behind you cuts your sentence short. Sebastian wakes and turns around behind you and, in an echo of Li’s earlier touch, reaches over your waist to settle on them - succeeding in both pulling you closer against his chest and beckoning them into the embrace as well.

His voice is sleep-rough and deep when he finally speaks. “You said you’d be back hours ago. Everything alright?”

You nestle the back of your head under Sebastian’s chin, shaking it slightly, but enough that you know he feels it. You don’t give Li a chance to respond, because you know them well enough by now (by heart, like a second self) to know that they won’t answer truthfully - at least not right away. "Overexertion," you mumble in their stead, eyes still locked with theirs as if daring them to contradict you.

They try, briefly. A scoff comes from in front of you, but it holds none of the usual power behind it. "I'm fine, mom and dad."

"Don't call us that," Sebastian says, a tired chuckle in his voice, "Or we'll kick you out of this bed."

"You wouldn't."

A brief pause, as if considering, and then, "No, we wouldn't. "

Reaching out, you rub your free hand up and down their arm, hoping to warm them up even slightly. "What do you need, Li?"

"I'm fi-..."

A small noise of frustration leaves you, cutting them off, and in one swift movement, you hoist yourself up and over Li until you're settled on their other side. Scooting in close behind them, nestling your knees into the backs of theirs, you gently push until you've maneuvered them more towards the center of the bed.

You sling an arm over their chest, hand once again finding its way to rest over their heart, and bury your face into their shoulder, pressed fully against them now as if your body could physically cage their exhausted, overworked form within your safety and embrace.

“I said, what do you need?” you repeat, not lifting your head, voice muffled by the soft fabric of their shirt. It’s what they left in this morning; they haven’t even changed before sliding into bed, you note.

The bed shifts, and you know that Sebastian has moved closer too. You don't have to look up to also know he runs his hand up into Li's hair, tangling his fingers in their soft locks, and pulls them forward for a kiss. Instead, you smile into their shoulder blade, pressing your own quiet kiss there, showering them with affection from all angles.

When the two of them separate (with a barely audible gasp, and you hope the three of you never adjust to this thing between you, never take it for granted), Sebastian clears his throat and speaks up again. "You didn't drive here like this, did you?"

The silence gives away their answer.

"You should've called," you manage to say around the yawn breaking out of you, your indignation lost somewhat around the sound.

"I already got an earful from Mama as I was leaving, I don't need more from you two."

You nuzzle your nose against their back, relishing in the unusual position you've found yourself in spooned up behind them. "Mm, too bad. We love you too."

Their whole demeanor softens at that, and if possible, they seem to relax even further into the bed. "I know."

"You scared us. When you didn't come home, we thought - that is, we were worried that…" You trail off, clenching the fabric of their shirt in your fist, unable to voice your worst fears.

They sigh and repeat, "I know. I'm sorry." Their hand clasps over yours, stilling your frantic worrying of the fabric and giving what is surely meant to be a reassuring squeeze. "Is that what you were dreaming about?"

Sebastian pushes up onto an elbow at this, looking at you over Li. "Dreaming about?"

Your gaze meets his, and now you can tell he's really worried, knowing that something is troubling both of his partners.

"Not precisely, not in so many words, but I think so, yes," you admit, voice small. "I think… I think I knew something was wrong? Everything was going fine in my dream - I was flying, and it was the most beautiful sunny day - and then suddenly it was as if someone flipped a switch. Dark, and cold, and I was falling, nothing below me to soften the fall but blackness."

The room falls quiet for a bit after that as the two of them let your words sink in, and you know they're picturing it: that stomach plummeting feeling of absolute terror.

"I almost passed out," Li finally concedes, voice low and tired, knowing that unfortunately they're giving your fears validation. "On the drive home. We had an emergency at the clinic, and I might've overdone it. Given too much."

Your heart stutters, a mismatched pattern of beats that takes your breath away at the mere thought of what could've happened. You tighten your grip on their hand to a point that you know has to be painful, but they don't mention it; they just cling to you as well, the slightest tremor still moving through them, the ongoing protest of their exhausted body that you know will remain until they have the chance to recover. All you can manage in reply is a small terrified, strangled noise.

"Might have? So we circle back to 'what do you need?' then," Sebastian says, no longer phrasing it as a question.

A long exhale, and then, "Rest. A lot of it."

"You must be out of it to admit you need sleep over coffee," Sebastian teases, a hint of a smile in his voice despite the heavy air to the conversation.

"Don't tempt me," they goad right back, but they make absolutely no move to get up. You briefly wonder if they even could in this state.

You push up just enough that you can press a kiss to the crook of their neck. "Sleep, love. You've earned it." And then, much softer, "Please."

They sigh once more, nestling further into the sheets and pillows cocooning them, and you can practically hear the pout in their voice. "'M fine."

"But I'm not," you whisper, mind still stuck on the fear of what could've been, that feeling of your insides jumbled up in freefall. "So for me?"

A sobering stillness falls over all three of you before Li finally breaks it with an exaggerated huff and a nod, though you know there’s no real annoyance or malice behind it. Their voice is temperate, full of unspoken love when they reply, "Always."

Only then do you feel like you can finally begin to relax again.

#speaker game #my fics #li/seb poly #man posting writing again borderline gives me a panic attack and I don't like it #I hate that something that was such as huge part of my life now feels so hard and awkward #but I'm so glad to have found a story that sparks creativity in me again #so thank you rhi if you see this again #thanks for letting me play in your amazing sandbox and for always being so supportive and kind about it!

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oftenderweapons · 4 years

Text

Love Talk - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 6.1k words

Genre: romance, minor fluff, mild smut

Rating: suggested 18+

Hello cuties! Welcome to the Love Talk scenarios.

In these small series we’ll see how the guys handle the turn-ons turn-offs conversation, talking about their previous relationships, kinks and limits.

In this first piece we’ll see how our perfect leader plays his cards with his not-yet girlfriend, fondly nicknamed Vixen. It’s their fifth date and Vixen meets him at hers for a lovely homecooked meal. Expect the situation to escalate.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Consumption of alcohol (wine), swearing, toxic past relationships. Discussion of sexual topics, [DDLG/daddy kink, oral, voyeurism, sex toys and impact play, restraints (handcuffs and manacles, spreader bars), lingerie fetish, discipline and rules, mind games, pornography, slight roleplay, sensation play, edging, orgasm deprivation and control, bruising and marking kink, blindfolds. Mentions of angst about Vixen’s past relationship. Mentions of a series of hard limits (hardcore bdsm, heavy pain kink, knife play, electric play, suspension play, water sports, degradation and humiliation, chastity devices, infantilization, dubious consent, asphyxiation, triple penetration, touch deprivation). Just in case you didn’t know already, Vixen is a brat and Joon is the smoothest brat tamer to exist (Can you imagine him sweet talking and tricking his brat into obedience? I. Am. Shaking.)

Wordcount: 6.1k (listen, these two flirt a lot, they like talking to each other and Joon could dirty talk for days. Anything less than 5k would be an insult to them and I GOT CARRIED AWAY) Also, here is my Masterlist

Do you want to read what happened next? You can find it here!

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He didn’t expect it. Yeah, last time you’d made out in the backseat, the driver hopefully uninterested in your anthem, but that doesn’t mean he expected you to ask him out. Usually he was the one texting first and asking out.

International, Korean or fusion? The text read.

Are you thinking of bringing me lunch?

I’m thinking of asking you out this Saturday. If you’re free, of course.

Picnic at Han river? He asked, hopeful.

They say it’s gonna be stormy. Dinner at mine. I’ll cook.

You can cook? His computer went on screensaver mode. He was too caught up texting. He was already done with the demo anyway.

You’ll see. You teased.

He smirked. Then it’s a deal. Want me to bring wine and dessert?

Just wine, you wrote before adding a flirty smirk.

He was blushing. You’re so naughty. He replied. A pause. Cook your signature dish.

Don’t get ideas. You texted back cheekily.

That was nice. However, a few seconds later you found yourself questioning how long it would take you to lose your cool and throw yourself at him. The night was going to be disastrous.

That’s how you found a drenched Namjoon on your doorstep the following Saturday. “Sorry, my umbrella broke on the way. I’m a mess.” He spoke, checking how bad he looked, the words spilling out of his mouth lightning fast. With an apologetic smile he looked up at you, his jaw going slack, a little shocked. “Wow.”

He noticed you had dolled yourself up. You blushed and thanked him for the compliment quickly, your main interest focused on taking care of his situation. You quickly dragged him in, already fussing over him before he got cold, your apprehensive side taking control.

You smiled at him and asked him to wait for a towel. When you came back you noticed he was wearing a thin cotton t-shirt, now perfectly sticking to his skin. You were ready for self-ignition. Fortunately, you managed to find a spot for his dripping jacket and tell him to get comfy. He was already barefoot, his sandals on your entry mat. You offered him your oversized sleeping t-shirt and left as he dried himself and got dressed.

“Let me see if I have a pair of sweats for you.” You came back a few minutes later with some basketball shorts you didn't even know you had. “Sorry, I don’t have boxers. You could use one of my thongs, if you fancy those.” You smirked, giving him an awkward thumbs-up. He snickered at that, shaking his head.

God, he felt fond of you already.

After a few minutes he was sitting at the kitchen table, looking like boyfriend material in his exceedingly domestic outfit, and fidgeting with his hands. Previously you had led him to the bathroom, giving him space to change and asking him to give you his stuff so you could put it in the dryer. In the meantime he had noticed the small details in your bathroom. Your pink toothbrush. Your sleeping robe hanging from the heater. And a small collection of delicate lace — too delicate for machine washing and drying — hanging from a small rack.

Fuck.

“It’s almost ready. I hope you like lasagna. It’s a classic.” You called from the stove.

“That’s nice.” He admitted. “It feels amazing in here. Smells good. And it’s nice, toasty. Great autumn vibes.”

He was probably talking out of nerves. He should stop. He was painfully close to slapping himself.

“Thank you. I know you like hardwood. And that’s exactly the vibe I go for.” You said referring to your furniture.

“Your house is truly lovely, ____.” He spotted more details, trying to ignore the rumbling of his stomach, both from nerves and the mouth-watering scent coming from the oven.

“I’ll give you a tour later. Don’t expect a lot, though. It’s just the living room, the studio and the bedroom. Other than the bathroom and kitchen, that is.”

Bedroom. Hell. Keep calm, Namjoon, she said don’t get ideas. “I’d love to.”

Dinner was easy, you talked about his job and your job, and how you’d moved to Seoul and found that incredible, small apartment in such an exclusive neighbourhood.

Together with conversation flowed the wine. You both were red cheeked by the end of the meal and your head felt a bit light when you stood up. He noticed and smirked kindly. “Need help?” A hand sweetly supporting your waist.

You were standing in front of him now and you couldn’t help but notice how his head reached your navel while he was sitting. “Have I already told you you look breathtaking tonight?”

You blushed. “Maybe.” You stroked his hair back, the gesture incredibly intimate. He closed his eyes and pushed his head against your hands, inviting you to do that again. You obliged. “And you look ravishing in my pink and frilly sleeping shirt.” You joked.

“Yeah I feel incredibly cute. But don’t jump my bones, please. Right now this place feels like the dragon’s den.” He confessed. “And you keep luring me in.”

“I might eat you. Be careful.” You teased. “This dragon can be very hungry.”

He looked up at you and smiled, his eyes crincling. “That sounds amazing.”

You took your chance and poked his dimple, then you grabbed his hands and removed them from your waist, getting ready for dessert. You started collecting the dishes and bringing them to the dishwasher, leaving only the wine and glasses on the table. As you turned and bent he let his eyes run down your tight-fitting dress, biting his lip as he noticed the lack of panty lines on your behind. “Do I get the dessert now?” He growled quietly. You turned your head, pretty sure that he was enjoying the view, which you had no intention ruining.

“Have you been a good boy?” You questioned playfully.

“I’m always good.” He replied “Maybe not a good boy, but good for sure.”

“You can go in the living room, we’ll eat dessert there.” You directed him.

He let his hand caress your lower back, catching your attention. “Need me to take the wine and glasses there?” He asked.

“Yes, thanks, sweetie.” You whispered, somehow entranced by the small touch.

You were starting to get intimate and it felt right. Comfortable. You took a few minutes to yourself, cleaning up the kitchen and loading the dishwasher, then trying to get dessert ready, your movements slower both because of the wine and because you felt like you needed more time to get psychologically ready for him and your bantering.

Meanwhile he reached the other room and fumbled around a little, searching for the light switch. Suddenly the place felt comfy. And dangerous. The lights were low, the sofa looked soft and inviting with a big woolen comforter thrown over it.

You were well-read. He knew that already, but noticing the big library and the books laying a little bit everywhere really made him wonder how many things you knew. He put down the glasses and bottle and explored, careful of where he put his feet.

You had Korean books and English ones. A few in one or multiple languages he didn’t know. On your wall there were a few movie posters. Studio Ghibli. The Grand Budapest Hotel. Lost in Translation. Lolita.

He knew that one. He would ask about that later.

Moving back to the library he noticed other books he knew. The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Again, Lolita. The Memoirs of a Geisha. The Delta of Venus. A thorough guide to the language of sex… A thorough what?

“You found my forbidden stash.” You asked him, propped against the door jamb, dessert in one hand, spoons in the other.

“If it’s forbidden, then why are you displaying it so openly.” He asked, moving away and innocently sitting on one edge of the sofa, legs closed, trying to occupy as little space as possible.

“No one visits here, usually. And why should I hide being interested in erotism?” You laid the heavy bowl on the table. “It’s tiramisu. It’s coffee-based. I thought you would like it. If you’re bold enough I might tell you the story of it.”

“Come on, try me.” He teased.

“It was invented in Italy. It’s said that prostitutes would make it to reinvigorate their clients.” You took a spoon and dipped it in before bringing it to your mouth.

He laughed. “Really.”

“It’s a quite popular legend.” You smiled.

“Did you learn that in The thorough guide to the language of sex?” He asked flirtily, his ears blushing.

“I learnt that during my cuisine lessons.” You replied matter-of-factly.

“And what did you learn from that interesting book?” He wondered, keeping eye contact as he fed himself some cake.

“A lot of things, actually.” You lowered your eyes, playing hard to get.

“And have you ever used them?” He asked, his curiosity now poked and fully awakened.

“Are you asking me if I’ve had sex before?” You questioned.

He shook his head. “I assumed you have.” He stopped, embarrassed. “I mean, you’re in your mid-twenties and you mentioned having a couple past relationships.”

“Correct. Even though those factors are actually insignificant. But yeah, I’ve done it before.” You shrugged. “So have you, right?”

“Yes. I’ve had three committed relationships. A few casual flings. That’s it.” He admitted, completely unbothered by the fact.

You looked at him, swallowing your mouthful before asking: “Now we’re gonna talk bodycounts and turn-ons, right?”

“Only if you want to, darling.” His voice became soft, caring. He was your boy now.

“Then yeah. Well, let’s go through some history.” You poured some wine in both glasses and took a sip of yours. “Lost my virginity at 19. First serious boyfriend. He was a lot older than me. A lot. Like a loooot.”

“How old?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Like… twelve years...” You said, as if it were a question.

“He was… thirty-one?” He asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah...” You exhaled.

“And why did it end?” he asked.

“We were together for two years. Then he wanted family. I wanted career. Seems fair.” You told briefly.

“He must have been important, then.” He assumed out loud.

“We’re actually still friends. He has a family. But he really made me what I am. Actually, he helped me grow up and past some traumas.” You admitted with a smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, again warm and comforting.

“The usual. Daddy issues.” You giggled.

He bit his lip anxiously. Now what?

“I was overly responsible from a young age. I wanted rules, restrictions. Attention from my parents. I was always wound up tight and with no one taking care of me.” You shrugged. “He helped me find an outlet and discover how my mind works. I realised sometimes I just need someone to take care of me when I'm too tired to do it myself.”

“I noticed the Lolita theme. I was going to ask you about that, honestly. Is that what you’re into?” He asked, tiptoeing around the huge black hole that was calling to him. Asking you to get into his lap and then praise and cuddle you until the little girl eventually came out to play.

“Are you asking me if I have a daddy kink or if I like owning multiple versions of the same book in different languages?” You asked, putting some humour in the heavy conversation you would be diving into shortly.

“Obviously the different versions.” He shrugged with a teasing smile.

“Yes.” You took another small sip. “To both of those.”

He felt like he needed to stretch his neck. “I’m glad this came up.”

“I’m pretty sure you have one yourself, don’t you?” You licked your lips before taking some more dessert.

He took a sip of his wine. “Yes. I think.”

“From one to ten, how far up?” You asked, eyes sparkling bright.

“I would say eight. Maybe nine.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re safe with me. I was hoping that by now you knew I wouldn’t ever judge you.” You murmured, a pout on your lip.

“A solid nine. But I won’t go higher up. There’s some kinky stuff out there that I’m seriously not into.”

“What’s that?”

“Stuff like pacifiers and drawings and plushies and playing tea party. That’s not me.”

“No, I’m not into infantilization either.” You agreed. “Honestly I’m more of a brat than a baby girl.” Now that the ball was rolling it was easier getting to the core of things, using terms and explaining kinks. The initial dive is always traumatic, but now you only had to swim. Metaphorically speaking.

“I could tell.” he smirked. “Too teasing and independent to keep your head low and say “yes, sir”, aren’t you?”

“You got me.” You lifted your eyes to him, batting your lashes a couple times. “And where’s the fun in that? The fun is in the chase. All the sweet talking and the manhandling that lead to surrender and conquest. I need to be won, earned, deserved. Of course I will bend, but I want you to show me how much you want me, how far you’re willing to go to get me. If it suits my taste, I will give in.”

He swallowed and took another spoonful of tiramisu. You were getting to his head faster than the wine. “So you’re a brat.” He stated, then licking his lip.

You nodded.

“What else are you into?” He asked, his stare dark and serious.

You subtly clenched your legs. “I like the fight. I like the sensationof my partner overpowering me. But I also like feeling loved and taken care of.”

“That’s right and natural, darling.” He supported you.

You felt your body caving in slowly, the desire in his eyes felt intoxicating and the sweet understanding and tenderness oozing from his mouth made you want to please him immensely. You were already yielding without him even touching you. “I like rules.”

“Oh, you do, sweetie?” He lured you in, inviting you to share more details.

“They make me feel like the other person is giving me boundaries to protect me.” You confessed.

“I like those too.” He diminished the power imbalance between the two of you, showing you his more delicate side. “I like giving them. And I like receiving them. I also feel like the other person is teaching me how to respect them. How to love them right. And is also indirectly protecting me from harm.”

“That’s right.” You agreed. “That’s exactly how I feel.” You smiled shyly.

“Do you like punishment, in any forms?” He asked, his voice so delicate it felt like a butterfly landing on the tip of your nose.

You blushed and exhaled. “I like spankings.” You bit your lips, hiding your face in your hands.

He caressed your hands tenderly. “I’d love to spank your perfect ass, Vixen.”

You giggled at the nickname. He’d used it at the end of your fourth date, when your hand had started playing with his belt.

Mood lightened, you lifted your head, smiling brightly. “I like it barehanded. It’s my favourite. But I also like the paddle and the hairbrush.”

“Not afraid of bruises?” A shiver ran down his spine, even though his blood was boiling.

“Not really.” You took more dessert. He stared at the spoon as it disappeared in your mouth, your lips latching and sucking at the silverware. His eyes then moved to your fingers as they held the spoon elegantly but energetically. “Actually the more the better. But tell me about you.”

He took in a deep breath before exhaling quickly. “I like bruising. Of different sorts. As I said, I’d love to cover your behind in those, if you’ll ever allow me to, that is.” He put down the spoon after he realised he was gesticulating with it. Dangerous. He was getting dumber. “This might sound very horny teenager but I like hickeys. Loads of them. Like marking. I really like marking.”

Your attention sparked up. He could claim you like that whenever he wanted to.

“And other stuff like biting. Licking. A lot of mouth activity in general.” He admitted, toying with his hands and shifting in his seat.

You couldn’t contain a small squeal and a giggle. “Oral fixation. Sounds nice. I have that too. Official member of the oral squad.” You grinned as you saw the gleam in his eyes. You took a small pause analysing your next move. “However, I can assume from your size that you’re a lot.” You gestured to his shoulders and height.

He only opened his mouth, raising his eyebrows and averting his gaze.

“And my gag reflex sucks. So I can only guarantee you I’ll try. Enthusiastically. Over and over.”

He felt like evaporating. “The only thing that counts is that you’re okay with receiving.” He waited for your answer expectantly, eyebrows raised, heartbeat galloping.

“Yes. Anytime.” You deadpanned. Eyes already closing at the thought of his mouth between your legs. “But don’t expect me to be shy about it. I will ask for it. Repeatedly. Until I’m a blabbering mess.”

He could make you a blabbering mess right in that second. He took a deep breath. Don’t start thinking of that.

“Come on, say it.” You flirted.

He laughed his big old grandpa laugh. “Say what?” He looked at you, happy and excited.

“Come on, you’ve admitted it to national tv but won’t talk to me about it.”

“Oh, you mean porn.” He blushed to the tip of his ears. “Fuck. I’m so fucking dumb.”

“Just clumsy. It’s lovely.” You complimented. “It’s a nice contrast to the hot daddy look you have eighty percent of the time. But don’t get distracted. Talk to me about your voyeurism kink.” You spurred him on. You needed to unlock that part of him. Craved it.

“Okay, fine. but we’re getting back to the hot daddy part later.”

“I’ll make sure of that.” You quipped. God, the chemistry was getting insane.

"Honestly, back then I used to watch it a lot more. Now I'm sort of… Lazier. It's so difficult finding what I like, and actually liking it the way it is carried out."

"Like, you're not sure you like how they're doing it." You suggested.

He clicked his tongue in agreement. "Yes. And it just lacks that… Spark. The intimacy, you know."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I one night stands aren’t it for me. I need to build that trust.” You admitted.

"I feel the same. And I get it, sex is amazing and everything, but only when you do it right. Like — with the right person. Someone that understands you and someone you're free enough to do it with. Someone you know, mentally and emotionally."

"Sex that comes from knowing and understanding is so much more intense." You said with a dreamy tone.

He looked at your face, longing blatant on your lineaments. He wished he could give you that. He wished he could take it from you. "That's the right word. Intense. You know, like the way lovers look at each other, like ‘yeah, I know your tits look great but you know what looks even greater? The way your chest flushes when you're close and your eyelids flutter and you subconsciously wet your lip with that little, oh-so-familiar flick of tongue’."

You felt your body soften at the words, secretly answering to his description. "You just explained intimacy." You agreed, nodding along and picking up a spoonful of dessert.

"That's why I watch a lot more amateur stuff these days. I would never have the audacity to film anything — too risky for my taste — but I like watching, at least."

"And how do you feel about watching… Live?" You asked, curious but also guarded.

"You mean watching my partner as she touches herself?" He asked, eyes blown wide.

"Yes." You said, shrugging.

He licked his lips and gulped, though his mouth was awfully dry. Wine. That's what he needed.

As he downed a large sip, you waited for his answer expectantly, almost ready to change topic when he started talking.

"Yeah." His voice was deeper now and an obscure part of you stood to attention, your hearing enhanced to capture any order he was ready to give you. None came. "I would love to. I love looking at a confident woman showing off her lingerie — and don’t think I forgot about your little collection.” He licked his lips and parted his legs, trying to ease his discomfort. “Sadly, I think that the vision would be an exercise in restraint, since I have zero patience and I can't stand being provoked. But I would watch, were she to touch herself with bare hands or with… Toys."

Lord, save me. You thought, your legs squeezing tighter.

This time it seemed Namjoon had noticed, although he did not show any reaction except for a cocky smirk, which he hid readily.

"If it's such an exercise in patience maybe some restraints could help you rein yourself in." You suggested.

"Being tied up by you as I watch you take off your lovely, expensive lingerie set and then watch you touch yourself? Is that what you're asking me?"

"A girl can dream." You teased with a cheshire grin.

"Good thing dreams do sometimes come true." He suggested, an eyebrow raised, mouth quirked to the side, panty-dropping dimple in tow.

You smiled and moved half an inch closer to him.

"You said once you did it a lot more. How much then and how much now?

"Well, back then I did it at least once a day or every two days. Now it's three times a week, roughly." He looked just slightly ashamed, but not really. You couldn't quite decypher his mind in that second. "May I ask about your… Needs."

Your brow creased, fingers entangling. "If I watch stuff? Or how often?"

He looked stuck somewhere in his brain and you tried helping him out. "Yeah."

Both, then. "Not films. Usually it's just pictures or short clips. When I'm especially needy I might listen to audios—”

"Of people having sex?"

You nodded. "Yeah, or just having some alone fun-time. "

God, he wanted one of those. Of you. "That sounds interesting."

"Sounds interesting in more ways than one, indeed." You offered back with an innuendo.

Your silver tongue and quick brains would be the end of him. "Talking with you is like a dangerous tango. Like that scene from Mr and Mrs Jones."

You laughed. "I'll have to catch up on that one."

"We could watch it together, next time." He suggested.

"I'd love to." You were sure that watching the film would probably be the last thing you’ll do. If you did it at all… "About frequency…" You took a pause, trying to verbalise decently what you felt wasn't decent at all. "I must say I'm quite high maintenance."

He poked your side, leaning across the sofa, but staying respectfully two feet away from you. He wanted to see if you would come closer. "Don't be shy. You made me grade my daddiness, now grade how needy you are from one to ten."

"Nine?" You were getting panicked. "Ten?"

"How often, baby?" His voice was so deep and husky it made your stomach shake with the reverberations of it.

"Like normally at least once a day?" You confessed in a shrill, insecure voice.

He nodded with a dark smirk. "Very needy indeed." He turned towards you slightly, his body language showing openness and inviting you to cuddle up next to him.

He wanted to touch you. Platonically. He wanted to comfort you throughout this conversation as you opened up and showed your vulnerabilities to him, but he also wanted to respect the distance you were keeping. Little did he know it was just a facade. All you wanted was to feel his hands combing your hair, his solid chest pillowing your head, his lips whispering sweet nothings at your ear.

"So you said you like rules, spankings, power struggles and discipline, anything oral, toys and mature content. Anything else you need me to know, little vixen?" He asked, and the addition of "little" to your nickname made you understand that you were completely out of your mind for this man. You were ready for anything he commanded you.

"I like restraints." You admitted. "I tend to fight back a little unless my daddy sweet talks me into things. Sometimes I like feeling a bit helpless, like my daddy can manhandle me and maneuver me into positions. That's why I like harnesses and cuffs, especially thigh cuffs. Also spreader bars. And manacles. I don't like handcuffs, they hurt and leave marks which are a bit difficult to hide, and embarrassing to explain."

Namjoon's mouth watered at the thought of thigh cuffs. Of the way your flesh would swell there, of how much skin there would be to bite. However, he also realised he had a lot to learn about you. And he needed to learn new things to play with you.

"I am absolutely okay with that. I must admit I have never explored this deeply into restraints, so I need to tell you I'm inexperienced with stuff like spreader bars and bondage. I know basic knots for wrists, but that's it. I don't usually have much patience for shibari and the likes. The furthest I've gone is handcuffs and using ribbons or belts, on wrists only." He explained.

"That's okay. Bondage is something too tricky for me too. Lengthy." You admitted. "Do you have any special need I should know of?"

"Not really. Except privacy and absolute monogamy." He states coldly. "I like experimenting, and you mentioned a spreader bar earlier. I'd love to try that. Both on you and on myself. Same thing about manacles. They seem less aggressive than handcuffs."

You nodded and explained further. "The pressure is distributed on a wider surface, which minimises the risk of injuries and markings. Especially on rebellious… individuals." You chose your word carefully.

Namjoon bit his lip and hummed in understanding. By now the discourse was getting highly technical, the need to verify and negotiate interests and limits coming to the surface. "We're both voyeurs, but I'll ask anyway, what about blindfolds?"

"Soft limit. Really depends on how you handle it. I need constant reassurance and guidance, it really destabilizes me."

"Understood. I might be into those when paired with sensation play, but we'll get into that when the time is right." He conceded tenderly. "Just one last thing, baby. I need to know your hard limits. Stuff you really don't want to do."

"Degradation and humiliation are a big no no. My second — and most recent — relationship was with a degrading bastard. He hurt me in ways I'm not comfortable remembering."

"Okay, love." He looked you in the eyes and waited a second for your approval before caressing your face in comfort.

"Stuff like hardcore BDSM, water sports, triple penetration and most anal play. And asphyxiation or choking."

Namjoon nodded quickly. "Anything else?"

"Okay, orgasm denial and chastity devices are an absolute no. That should be it, about hard limits. There are a few things that make me safeword but that I can stand to a certain point, like edging, blindfolds, and touch deprivation."

Namjoon nodded once more, waiting for you to finish."Okay. I think that the only stuff I might meddle with is blindfolds and edging. I have no interest in controlling your orgasms — our aim is to please." He winked and smirked at you, your knees growing weaker and weaker. "Also, believe me when I say I tend to assume a very nourishing and protective role, therefore it would go against my nature to humiliate you or degrade you. I don't intend to attack your emotional stability, so if you're interested, we can tackle the problem with blindfolds a bit at a time. Same with edging, we'll take baby steps if you decide you trust me and want to give me the honour of trying." His brow creased as he tried to remember the other thing he wanted to say. "Oh, about touch deprivation, I always need my little one close to me, so you should never feel touch starved." He took a meditative pause." And I intend to touch you a lot, baby."

You shivered and leaned closer to him, attracted to the comfortable nook he was creating while leaning on his side against the back cushions of your sofa. It looked so warm. And safe.

He noticed your wandering glance and quickened the pace. He had ideas. And he needed you closer.

"My hard limits are including other people in our intimate life. I don't share like that." He warned perentoriously. "Also, you know my clumsiness. If there's any chance that it could damage you, then there's no going that way. I'm thinking of stuff like knife play and kinks that involve obviously dangerous material. Like violet wands. Anything involving hardcore BDSM, suspension play, infantilization and dubious consent is a non-negotiable hard limit. Are you still with me, baby?"

You nodded, making eye contact.

"Good. I might be interested in some anal play. No penetration and no strap-ons. Maybe rimming. Both giving and receiving. But we'll see. Same for sensation play." He scratched his neck, trying to think of things he doesn't like doing. "I don't like being edged and I have poor control of myself, so orgasm control and denial are kind of softish limits." And then you noticed the shift, like his spine getting straighter, his shoulders rolling back in the process, looking broader, still his voice came out sweet and caring. "Listen carefully now, little vixen. I have little tolerance for disobedience and insubordination. If you have a temper or challenge my dominance, you will have to face consequences. Also, I like claiming my partner entirely. What is mine is mine. I don’t like sharing. Infidelity is a deal breaker. Understood, ____?"

"Yes, sir." You replied, automatically, without even intending too. You did’t feel ready for that title. And sir felt neutral enough.

"Such nice manners." He praised with a proud smile. "Now, would you like to come closer, baby?"

You batted your eyes a couple times. You were sliding into subspace quickly and you found yourself questioning whether it was a good idea to get closer. Still, your body was faster than your brain, making you nod and crawl next to him, settling inside his embrace. "Can I sit on your lap, Joonie?"

He blushed, smiling kindly at you. He was beginning to melt at your complicated charms. "Of course, babe." He sat elegantly with his back leaning against the sofa, legs slightly parted so you could place yourself between them, your thighs across his and your side pressed to his front as his arms slowly wrapped around you, ready to retreat at your first show of discomfort. "Does it feel nice, darling?"

"Yes." You whispered. You were so close to him, his body warm while the late summer night felt chilly on your skin.

He cupped your cheek with his hand and pulled your head to his breastbone, building a calm cocoon for you. "You mentioned I look like a hot daddy before. Care to elaborate, little one?"

You purred at his term of endearment, cuddling into him some more. "You look so hot with your glasses on. Sometimes I close my eyes and still see you in your outfit for Gayo Daechukje in 2019. Grey three piece suit, necktie and glasses. Everyone was fantasising about you as their hot kinky professor in classroom roleplay."

He had some troubles reminiscing the details, but he saved in his mind some keywords. Glasses, suit, necktie, kinky professor roleplay. With your face burrowed in his chest, he propped his chin on top of you hair, his spare hand soothing your skin from your waist to your knee, raising goosebumps in its wake.

"Did that outfit cause discomfort, baby thing?" He questioned, hands caressing your hair gently.

"It did fuel some steamy dreams, yes." You conceded.

"And did you wake up all hot and bothered for me?' He kept teasing.

"Mh mh." You confirmed, head nodding slowly and timidly.

His chest shook in a breathy laugh. "Poor little girl, so desperate for the hot professor."

He sounded so cruel, basking in your needy struggles. "I'm so lucky I'm a smart girl who can take care of herself." You counterattacked.

"Smart indeed. But now that I know maybe I can take care of it for you." He pressed a kiss to your head. It was the first time he did a gesture so tender and so intimate.

"What else gets my little girl all ticklish and lightheaded?" He asked, curling tighter against you and around you.

"When you call me little." You admitted.

"Do you like it, ____?“

“Yes, Joonie. I like it a lot." You replied meeting his gaze.

He leaned down and pressed the tip of his nose to your earlobe, a spot he had discovered during your first make out session. "What if I whispered it here, little vixen?"

Your eyes closed, lost in sensations, your insides clenching so violently that your body followed the movement, knees pressing against each other, thighs squeezing for relief.

"I guess you really like this spot, am I right, little girl?" He pushed you closer and you started recognising the shape of him against your hip. The basketball shorts he was wearing did no good job at hiding him.

"Please Joonie."

"Please what, darling?" He pressed his lips there, kissing you with a featherlight touch, impossible to perceive, were not for the sound of his disclosing lips. The tip of his tongue met the skin there, your back arching into him. "When I first saw you you looked like a wet dream, _____, in your smart formal attire, looking like the most confident, adult, unbreakable woman in the world. Legs for days and an ass I wanna bite like a ripe, juicy peach. You looked polished like a model, negotiating over the price of a painting in a private gallery. You looked so damn hot." He bit into your neck, moving your hair aside. "You looked like the most refined and expensive thing I have ever seen. Polished, edgy. So sexy." He bit into you again.

This time you whimpered.

"I thought I stood no chance, with my clumsy character and boyish ways." He giggled, and his voice vibrated against your throat. "Now you're in my arms, all cosy and needy, begging me to please you with your big doll eyes and pretty, plush lips, behaving like the cutest, sweetest little girl I could ever dream of." He sucked at the column of your throat gently, hard enough to cause a blush but soft enough to avoid a bruise. He leaned closer to your ear. "You're my fucking wet dream, Vixen."

You whined loudly, turning your head towards him, hoping he would put you out of misery and kiss you.

Instead he grabbed your cheeks passionately and murmured on your mouth, staring intently in your eyes. "All mine. To enjoy, to ruin. But most importantly to protect and nourish and care for." He kissed you like you were made of porcelain, lips stiff against yours, afraid of letting go. "What do you want, little girl?"

You stared with equal intensity in his eyes. "Kiss me. Please, daddy, I'll be so good to you." You had no problem using his title this time, your brain completely surrendering to him.

"Good girl." And as you felt your lungs bloom at the praise, wetness pooling between your legs, you slowly gave in to him, opening your mouth, letting his tongue dance with yours, mixing with the fruity taste of the wine and the creamy texture of the dessert. His hand stayed at your waist while the other, once gripping your face, slithered into your hair and cupped your nape, dragging you closer. You didn't know what to do with your hands.

He kept kissing you as your lungs began burning, his technique impeccable. He kissed you thoroughly, licking your tongue and angling your head to give you access to his mouth. He fuelled your desire with short jabs of his chin, giving you the feeling of him caving in but then retreating and making you chase him. It was… Heady.

"We need to stop, little one. We need to take our time." He exhaled heavily, his cheek against your forehead as he calmed down. "Why don't we cuddle as we watch something?" He suggested.

"No more making out?" You cried out in tiny disappointment.

"You told me not to get ideas. First I'll learn about you. Properly. Then, when my brain gives me the green light, I guarantee you my body won't hold back. Just, give me time, ____.” He explained, controlled and at the same time empathetic.

You nodded in understanding, caressing his face and pressing a kiss to his chest. "I wanna kiss you again though."

"Don't worry, baby, we'll have the chance later. Let me calm myself down first." He replied, adjusting you in his lap, trying to separate you enough for decency.

You were glad that at least the dampness between your thighs was matched by the severity of his hard on.

"What do you say, I go to the bathroom, recompose myself real quick while you choose something to watch?"

You agreed.

Date five finished with a sweet kiss at the doorstep as he left after the film you watched together.

However the following morning you found a lengthy paragraph in your chat with Namjoon containing a detailed description of his intentions towards you. Let's just say you were glad for the girthy, buzzing friend you keep in your bedside table and for its assistence as you read his text and crumbled, calling his name.

#bangtan sonyeondan #bts smut #kim namjoon #kim namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon one shot #Namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon fic

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btsqualityy · 5 years

Text

BTS Second Pregnancy Series #14: Realizing that you’re in labor

38-41 weeks pregnant, depending on the member

Kim Seokjin

“Y/N-ah?” Jin called out as he walked into the kitchen, smiling softly to himself when he saw you wiping down the counters. Since you were 38 weeks now, you were effectively in nesting mode, which is something that you never experienced with Kade since he was born at 36 weeks.

“Morning,” you smiled as you looked over at him.

“What are you trying to do, work yourself into labor?” Jin joked, walking further into the kitchen and over to where you were standing.

“No,” you chuckled as you rolled your eyes playfully. “I just felt the need to get everything spotless, you know?”

“You’ve cleaned this house from top to bottom over the last week,” he pointed out. “I don’t think it can get any cleaner.”

“I know but I can’t help it,” you whined. “I’m starting to get kind of antsy.”

“That’s understandable,” Jin nodded. “Any contractions?”

“Yeah, last night and this morning,” you told him. “They’ve been pretty consistent but they’re still pretty light.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jin wondered.

“I reiterate: they’re still light,” you laughed.

“But they’re consistent,” Jin shot back, making you roll your eyes again. “I think maybe we should head to the hospital.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic?” You questioned and he shook his head.

“Even if you’re not in active labor right now, you can still have them check to see if you’ve dilated any,” he said and you sighed, knowing that he wasn’t gonna drop the subject until you agreed to go to the hospital.

“Alright, we can go,” you relented and Jin grinned widely, leaning over and kissing your forehead.

“Great. I’ll go call eomma so that she can come stay with Kade,” Jin announced happily before walking out of the kitchen.

Min Yoongi

“Come on,” you muttered, looking down at your bump as you felt another contraction. You had been having contractions for the past few days but they weren’t consistent enough yet for you to be worried about heading to the hospital. When the contraction that you were feeling passed and it wasn’t followed by another one after a few minutes, you sighed heavily as you looked over at Yoongi.

“You just have to be patient baby, alright?” Yoongi told you but you couldn’t help but to scoff in reply.

“My due date came and went a week ago,” you huffed. “If Kammie takes any longer, I’m gonna have to be induced and you know I don’t want that.”

“I know but we can’t rush her,” Yoongi shrugged. “She’s gonna come when she’s ready.”

“But I’m tired and I’m huge and I just want her here with us,” you whimpered, tears welling up in your eyes. Yoongi immediately pulled you into his arms, hugging you tight to his chest as you cried into his shirt.

“I know, I know but you’ve been doing an amazing job Min,” he assured you. “You always amaze me whenever you’re pregnant.”

“Really?” You said, shutting your eyes when you felt another contraction starting up.

“Of course,” he nodded and you pulled away from his chest to look up at him. “You never ever complain and I have no idea how you do it.”

“But I just complained,” you pointed out as your contraction ended, making Yoongi laugh at you.

“True but I think you have the right to at this point,” he said. You were about to respond but you felt another contraction come so you shut your eyes and focused on breathing through it. Once it was over, you opened your eyes again and looked up at Yoongi.

“I just had two contractions,” you told him and his eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think they might be trying to get closer,” you told him.

“Alright, well let’s keep working at it and maybe we can get things going for real this time, yeah?” He suggested and you nodded in agreement.

Kim Namjoon

“Mommy, come on!” Mason called as he hopped out of the backseat of the car and ran up to the front door. You smiled and shut the car door behind him before walking up the path to the house.

“I can’t go that fast Myungie,” you giggled as you made it to the front door, using your key to unlock the front door and then open it. You and Mason both walked inside and you shut the door behind you as Mason worked on taking his shoes off.

“Is it because of Maia?” He wondered and you nodded your head.

“She’s getting a little too big in there for me,” you laughed and Mason turned to you, setting his hand on your large bump.

“It feels hard,” he noted and you smiled down at him.

“That means that she’s getting ready to come out,” you told him. “Now, come on. Let’s go make some lunch.” Mason cheered excitedly, making you laugh as the two of you headed into the kitchen. The whole time that you worked on making some kimchi soup for the two of you, you started to feel contractions. They definitely weren’t painless by any means but they only lasted for about 20 seconds and only happened about every 7 or 8 minutes. This usually wouldn’t concern you but given how fast your labor with Mason went, you thought that maybe you should give Namjoon a head’s up.

“Are you ok Mommy?” Mason asked as he looked up from his bowl, watching as you slowly rocked your hips back and forth in order to ease some of the pain from the contraction that you were currently experiencing.

“Yeah, I’m fine sweetie,” you said, picking up your phone from the counter and clicking on Namjoon’s contact. After only two rings, he picked up.

“Hi jagi,” Namjoon answered. “Everything ok?”

“Um, I think we might have some action on the baby front,” you told him and you could hear him gasp lightly.

“You sure?” He asked.

“Yeah, they’re getting pretty painful and they’re not exactly five minutes apart yet but they’re consistent,” you replied. “And you know how fast things went last time.”

“Say no more jagi,” he stopped you. “I’m on my way home now and we’ll head to the birthing center.”

“Alright.”

“I love you Y/N-ah,” he whispered and you smiled to yourself, taking a quick glance over at Mason who was stuffing his face with spoonfuls of soup.

“I love you too,” you replied.

Jung Hoseok

You turned over onto your left side in bed, trying your best to get as comfortable as possible as your felt contractions wrap around the bottom of your stomach. Once the contraction ended, you sighed and relaxed into the bed, trying to go back to sleep but soon enough, you were hit with another contraction.

“Shit,” you muttered, sitting up and turning back over onto your right side.

“Y/N-ah?” Hobi murmured, yawning loudly and opening his eyes as he looked over at you. “You ok?”

“Having contractions,” you sighed, giving up on being able to sleep and sitting up against the headboard. “What time is it?”

“Uh, 12:54am,” he said after looking at the clock on the nightstand. “Are they consistent?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” you nodded, setting both of your hands on your bump and rubbing softly.

“You wanna head to the hospital?” Hobi wondered.

“I’m honestly not sure,” you said as you looked over at him. “Maybe we should wait a little while longer.”

“You sure? It’s entirely up to you, but I want you to be comfortable,” he replied.

“Yeah, just for a little while,” you promised.

“Alright, come here then,” he said, opening his arm and you laid down and snuggled into the side of his body. “Try and sleep, ok?” You nodded and shut your eyes, eventually drifting off to sleep with the help of Hobi’s hand massaging your lower back. However, you kept getting woken up again by even stronger contractions. When you opened your eyes, Hobi was already looking down at you with a small smirk on his face.

“How long has it been?” You asked him.

“30 minutes,” he replied.

“Alright, come on. Get up,” you said, smacking his chest lightly and sitting up in the bed. “I guess we’re having a baby today.”

Park Jimin

“A little lower please,” you pleaded, a low hum coming from your throat as Jimin applied more pressure to your lower hips. You were standing by the edge of the bed, slightly bent over as Jimin worked on massaging your hips.

“Does that make it a little better?” He wondered and you nodded slowly.

“These contractions are kicking my ass,” you whimpered, letting your head fall back in between your shoulder blades as the contraction wrapped around your back.

“Do you think these are the real deal jagi?” He questioned and as the contraction ended, you were able to catch your breath and think a little clearly again. “They’re pretty strong.”

“And they’re kicking my ass,” you repeated with a little laugh. “But they’re still too inconsistent.”

“You were dilated to three at your last doctor’s appointment though,” he reminded you and you just nodded your head, laying your upper body down onto the bed as another contraction started up. “And any contractions that knock you off your ass like this, I think it’s cause to go to the hospital.”

“Mm, whatever,” you groaned, gritting your teeth as you tried to breathe through the pain. Once it was finished, you lifted your body up off the bed and stood up straight up again.

“Wanna head to the hospital?” He asked you and you nodded your head.

“Let’s go.”

Kim Taehyung

“I still don’t think you should’ve come today,” Taehyung mumbled as one of the member’s hairstylists worked on finishing his hair. Today, the group was going to be a part of a special for Music Bank so all of the members’ wives and their kids came to watch.

“I never miss your Music Bank tapings though,” you pouted and you felt Spencer tap your thigh so you quickly corrected yourself. “We never miss them and we’re not gonna start now.”

“But your due date is literally tomorrow jagi,” Taehyung reminded you. “And with how much your Braxton Hicks contractions have picked up over the last week, it makes me nervous.”

“Ok, how about this? If I feel like a contraction that I even think could be the start of Elijah coming, I’ll have Sejin come get you as soon as possible. Alright?” You said and Taehyung nodded softly. The hairstylist finished his hair so Taehyung stood up, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before bending down and picking Spencer up. The three of you then walked out of the members’ dressing room out to where the stage was.

“Are you gonna sing there Daddy?” Spencer gasped in awe and Taehyung laughed as he nodded at her.

“Yeah Munchkin, me and your uncles,” he told her. The director let them know that they were just about ready to film so Taehyung set Spencer down, who immediately reached up and grabbed onto your hand.

“I’ll be back,” he promised.

“We’ll be watching,” you smiled. Taehyung gave you one last smile before turning around and walking up onto the stage with the members, which made the crowd cheer. They took their places and the music started, and they all began to dance. You bobbed your head to the beat, smiling as you watched Spencer dance in place.

As you watched, you felt what was definitely a contraction, except that this one was very different from the Braxton Hicks ones that you had been having. It was more forceful and you found yourself having to take several deep breaths in order to deal with the pain.

“Mommy? You’re hurting my hand,” Spencer spoke up and you gasped, instantly releasing her hand.

“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetie,” you apologized. “Can you do me a favor though? Can you go get Uncle Sejin?”

“Yeah!” She nodded before running off to the opposite side of the hallway to Sejin, pulling on the hem of his shirt and then pointing over to you. Once the two of you made eye contact, you pointed down at your stomach and nodded. His eyes widened and once the members had finished their song, Sejin rushed out onto the stage and whispered into Taehyung’s ear. Taehyung practically flew off stage, running over to your side.

“Are you alright?” He asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, but I just had a really bad contraction,” you told him, groaning as you felt your stomach tighten up. “And I’m about to have another one.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he whispered, grabbing onto your hand and letting you squeeze it as hard as you wanted. “We’re gonna go home and you can get comfortable, ok?” He said and you nodded, letting him set his hand on your lower back and lead you towards the exit.

Jeon Jungkook

You sighed heavily, opening your eyes and slowly lifting your body so that you were sitting up against the headboard. You had been having contractions all night and they were only getting closer together and more intense.

“Your love, your love, your love,” you heard Jungkook sing softly as he stepped out of the bathroom and you looked up to see him stop when he saw you sitting up in the bed. “What are you doing up Y.N-ah? You’re usually knocked out cold when I go to work.”

“I’ve been contracting all night,” you admitted and you watched his eyes widen.

“You think you’re in labor?” He asked as he walked over and put his pajamas in the hamper.

“I’m not sure,” you shrugged. “Especially not after that false alarm that we had the other day.”

“True,” he said before coming to sit next to you on the bed. “It’s all up to you and how you’re feeling though, on if you want to head to the hospital yet.”

“You mind staying home from work today? Maybe see if things pick up?” You wondered.

“Of course,” he agreed, making you smile.

A few hours later, you were in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch taking deep breaths. Your contractions had continued to pick up steadily and you were definitely at a point where you were feeling every contraction.

“Are you ok Mommy?” Ava wondered as she sat next to you on the couch.

“I’m fine sweetie,” you assured her. “I think Aria’s ready to come out.”

“Today?” Ava gasped excitedly.

“Maybe not today, but soon.”

“So you’re sure now?” Jungkook asked and you nodded your head. “Alright Angel, grandma and grandpa are gonna come stay here with you while we go to the hospital. Just like we talked about, remember?”

“I remember,” she nodded before turning to face you. “Be safe Mommy.”

“Oh, I will Ave,” you smiled, holding your arms open and Ava fell into them, and you hugged her as tightly as you could.

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littleoddwriter · 4 years

Text

Damaged | Dan Torrance x Male!Reader

Whoo, another vent fic! I’ve been writing on it for a couple of days now and decided to quickly finish and upload it before my next zoom meeting, lol. If you should read my ZsaszMask fics on Ao3, you will recognise that the title and subject matter are the same. That’s because I’ve vented by giving Roman my problems before. But the same problem is still plaguing me. By now, I’m legitimately scared of showering each night. So, yeah, vent fic. Which is gonna be rather specific again, ‘cause OCD and neurodermatitis.

summary; Your wounds on hands and wrists are distressing you, new intrusive thoughts appear and make it even worse. Dan is there to reassure you and just be the wonderful boyfriend that he is.

notes; TW // Contamination OCD, Self-Harm (unintentional and implied intentional); Intrusive Thoughts (rather graphic! Be cautious, please); Bleeding wounds on hands and wrists. Male!Reader; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Neurodermatitis; Cuddling; Showering; Reassurance.

It had been a nice day. Dan had a day off. You were home, too, but you had some work for university that you needed to get done. That work was quickly finished, though, and so you ended up on the couch together, watching some movies and just enjoying each other's company for the rest of the day. It was nice. Relaxing.

Eventually, late evening was approaching and you still needed to take a shower. It was so set in your routine, on top of medically needed, and also forced upon you by your OCD, so that you couldn't wait till morning. You hated it. You didn't want to leave Dan's side, nor did you want to shower as it was. "I can feel you're stressed. What is it, sweetheart?" Dan asked, pulling you out of your head. "Just... Showering?" You replied, a little unsure if he would get it. "Right, right," he murmured, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss on your forehead. "Is there anything I can do?" "No, I don’t think so. I'm sorry. And if I put it off any longer, it's only gonna get worse." "Alright then. I'll be right here when you get back, okay?" He kissed your forehead again, then your lips and then he gave you a little nudge to make you get up. You tried to calm yourself while you got everything ready for the shower. You didn't have to look at yourself. You were pretty good at looking up to the ceiling or just closing your eyes, when you were showering. Yet, you weren't sure if any of that would help that day. No thanks to your OCD, you excessively washed your hands too many times a day to keep count of. On top of that, you were suffering from neurodermatitis, so your skin was even more prone to splitting open and getting bloody and raw from washing it so much. And at the moment, your wrists and the backs of your hands were full of little open wounds - some even a little bigger - and dry and angry red patches of skin that looked like rashes. It all hurt a ton. Burning, pulling your skin open with each movement, stabbing pains and so forth. You wished it wasn't like that. You really did. It was upsetting. You felt like people would look at your hands and see how broken you were. How beyond repair you were. You hated it. Eventually, you got into the shower and started following your routine. It went well until you caught a glimpse of your wrists, both such an angry red, the wounds standing out like they were actively trying to get attention from people. Suddenly, your mind's eye was filled with these images. You got them a lot. Self-destructive. Hard to resist at times. Yet, those were new. They showed you how you would turn the water to its hottest level and just stand there until it scalded your skin, starting to burn it off even. They showed you how you would take a knife and just slice it all off, getting rid of the evidence. It was utterly distressing. You didn't want to do any of this. You didn't! It wouldn't make your problem any better. It would make it worse if anything. You knew that. You also knew you wouldn't follow through with it. At least you hoped you wouldn't. You weren't so sure anymore, when you noticed that the water was pretty hot already, almost unbearably so. Had you turned the handle after all? You quickly turned it to make the spray lukewarm, finished off with your routine quickly and got out of the shower. Drying yourself was hurried, so was putting on your clothes. You did your hair a little and washed your hands again, like you always did. Then you pulled the sleeves of your sleeping shirt over your hands. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so you had hoped. The thoughts, the images; they were haunting you. They played in the back of your mind, over and over again, distressing you further. You got back to the living room, to the couch, where Dan was still sitting. Immediately, his attention was on you, when you entered the room. His face had concern written all over it. So he probably felt your distress. Fuck. With a sigh, you sat down next to him again, pressing into his side. You couldn't talk, you realised, as you tried to tell him that you were okay. It would have been a lie and he would have known it, but he knew not to pressure you and to accept your lies sometimes. Dan wrapped his arms around you, pressing your face into his chest. It was calming. Reassuring. Grounding. His hands were rubbing your arm and your back respectively, soothing you. Can I do anything for you? You closed your eyes, when his low, soothing voice rang through your head. You tried so hard to think, to see past the hurt and intrusive thoughts, if there was anything he could do. But you came up empty-handed. You always did. Shaking your head, you whined. You were so fucking exhausted. Tired. Broken. Subconsciously, you had started scratching your wrists. Your neurodermatitis was triggered by distress, your skin was itching and prickling all over, but your wrists were the worst. They were burning with it. Dan put a hand over the one you were scratching yourself with and stopped it. He took your hand into yours, intertwined your fingers and squeezed it gently, reassuringly. It's okay. Should I get your lotion? You shook your head, getting up yourself instead. You needed to wash your hands before putting your lotion on them anyway. So you did just that. It hurt. Your open and bleeding wounds burned and stung. So much, so that you were forced to squeeze your eyes shut and exhale forcibly to push down the pathetic whine that tried to escape you instead. Afterwards, your sleeves were pulled over your hands again; both as to not see them and to be able to cuddle back into Dan. You hated the lotion on your forearms and hands. It was a thick, sticky layer that didn't help you in the end anyway. Dan put his arms back around you, going back to rubbing you soothingly. You noticed that he had put in one of your comfort movies without question. In thanks you nuzzled his chest, kissing it briefly. You were so tired. You would have loved to just go to sleep and leave everything behind yourself; but you knew you wouldn't be able to find any rest if you were to go to bed in such distress. When the film was over, the two of you got yourselves ready for bed and crawled under the covers eventually. Dan was spooning you from behind, one arm around your middle, the other under your neck, pillowing your head. Your legs were intertwined and one of your arms was griping onto the one he had wrapped around your waist. "Do you want to tell me what upset you?" He whispered softly, gently kissing the back of your neck. "New intrusive thoughts," you answered shortly, a frustrated sigh leaving you. He nuzzled your hair on the nape of your neck with his nose, pressing another gentle kiss on your skin. "Would you elaborate on that or would you rather forget about it for now?" "I don't know. It's just... It's about the wounds on my wrists and such. I- I'm fucking damaged, Dan. Anyone who sees these wounds will know I'm beyond repair. I just want it all gone. I want them gone. I want the skin off of me. That's- That's what these thoughts- images rather - were about. And I don't know what to do because they're so hard to resist, even though they'd only make it all so much worse." "Y/N, let me say that you are not beyond repair. Nor are you damaged. I may not be able to fully understand this particular problem you're facing, now, but I'm determined to help and support you through it." Swallowing thickly, you squeezed the arm you have been gripping the entire time, wordlessly thanking him. "And listen, darling. We'll find solutions for you, alright? I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. If you need me to shower with you, I'll do just that. If you need to talk to me before, during and - or after, I'll be there to talk to you. Even when I should not be home and at work instead, we can always talk over the phone, okay? If the thoughts should become too much and you're afraid you're gonna follow through with them, I'll be there for you and help you, okay? You're not alone, I promise you." A pause. "You're such a strong man, you know? Each day, I am so proud of you. You've come so far, despite every stone that's been placed in front of you - and you keep on going. I love you, y/n and I admire you." Tears were shining in your eyes and as so often, you couldn't fathom just what you've done to deserve an understanding and amazing boyfriend, such as Dan was. "I love you, too, Dan. Thank you. I- I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. You take my breath away and make me speechless. You know how proud of you I am - each and every day for fighting so hard, for surviving like you are. You truly amaze me, my love," you responded softly, your voice breaking a little on every other word. Dan squeezed you tightly, pressing against your back and kissing the back of neck once more. Go to sleep, my darling. I'm here. I'll protect you. You heard his voice in your head again, smiling softly as you did. Then you nodded and closed your eyes, getting comfortable. Your mind was mostly quiet for the first time this evening.

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writingfromkitchenator · 4 years

Text

The Demon, The Hunter, and The Halfblood

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 7

Words: 3,238

The four men watched Casey sitting at the table, surrounded by paper and pencils, her tongue out between her teeth as she draws on the paper.

It hadn’t taken her long to wake up properly, or to forget her nightmare, but Crowley was always good at that, he seemed to always be able to settle her down quickly, and she was usually happy to go do something in no time at all.

Bobby lets out a slow breath. “So, I hate to ask this, but how exactly did she happen?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “The same way those sorts of things normally happen,” Bobby frowns and goes to say something before Crowley cuts him off. “And hardly appropriate for her to be listening to. She has only known the best of our relationship, and if we can help it, we want to keep it that way, at least until she can understand properly one day.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Bobby cleared his throat, glancing at Sam and Dean. “Although, I’m a little worried that John did the same with those three.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Madelyn is aware,” Crowley said, ignoring Dean. “And we have discussed it, but we both agreed it was for the best. Casey is also incredibly smart and aware of things, so we know she will ask if she ever wants an answer to something.”

“How have you even kept her hidden away so well?” Sam asked. “Given everything that’s happened, how has no one gotten wind of her?”

“Daddy?” Crowley’s answer is cut off as Casey looked at him from the table.

“Yes pumpkin?” Crowley ignored the discomfort from the others.

“Can I have a hot chocolate?”

“Can you?”

“May I have a hot chocolate please?” She asked again, smiling at him.

Crowley nodded. “Of course you can pumpkin.” He snaps his fingers and a large mug appears on the table next to her, three marshmallows on top.

“Thank you Daddy.”

“You’re welcome,” He watched as she grabs a spoon and instantly eats one of the marshmallows before looking back at the other three. “To answer your question, between Madelyn and I, we have learnt enough to be able to do so. It’s far from perfect, or easy, and there have been a few incidents, but ones we’ve made short work of.”

The uncomfortableness doesn’t ease. “Does she know?”

Crowley nodded, but slowly. “To some extent.” When the silence continued, he looked between them. “Is this something you really want to explain to a four year old?”

They all silently agreed that that option wasn’t currently on the table.

“Okay,” Dean rubbed his eyes. “So, after…that happened, are you saying that you just let her go?”

Crowley smirked, giving a chuckle. “Of course, I had some…pretty good leverage on her after that, more than enough for her to keep her mouth shut, about both Castiel and I and what we were planning.”

“How did she know?” Sam asked, frowning. “You actually told her your plan?”

“At the time she wasn’t going anywhere,” Crowley shrugged. “So I never saw the harm in it, and besides, she kept her word. You three remained clueless until it was far too late.”

“It certainly explains why we still didn’t see her,” Dean said, irritated. “At least not until after Cas had taken on all those souls.”

“Yes, having someone else declare themselves as God, does tend to have that effect on someone,” Crowley said. “Of course that was after we’d discovered a new problem of our own.”

“Why do I have a feeling I know what that was?” Dean said under his breath.

Crowley went to say something in response, but the hair on the back of his neck rose, drawing his attention just as Casey looked up from the table.

“Mummy?” She asked, the front door of the house shutting a moment later.

“Grab her.” Crowley said quickly, getting to his feet as Casey jumped off the chair. “She doesn’t need to see this.”

Sam quickly scooped Casey into her arms, but they all followed after Crowley outside. Madelyn’s back was to them, leaning down on her knees, breathing hard, and Crowley hurried to her side.

Madelyn held out a hand as he went to touch her. “Wait. Give me a moment.”

There was pain in her voice and Casey squirmed in Sam’s arms. “It’s okay, you just have to give her a moment.”

She pouted, but stopped squirming, watching her parents.

Madelyn’s expression was screwed up in pain, her head swimming, but she was still very aware of the others standing there watching. The images burned in her mind, much as they had as she was sleeping, a panic momentarily having overtaken her as she fought herself awake and then desperately needing air.

Forcing air into her lungs, the vision slowly eased, and she could bring herself back to the new problem before her.

She straightened herself out, wiping some of the blood that was dripping from her nose. “Well, here’s to hoping that that didn’t happen. Certainly not how I wanted to be woken up.”

Crowley was there, a gentle hand on her arm as she gave him a pained smile. “I’ll be alright, I’ve had far worse.”

They stared at her when she turned, wiping more blood from her nose, even as Crowley hands her a handkerchief, a tense moment of silence falling.

“You’re getting visions?” Dean asked, anger in his voice, his gaze boring into Madelyn.

Madelyn tried to shrug it off. “It happens occasionally, nothing to worry about.”

“Bullshit,” Dean spat. “Or don’t you think I spent enough time around Sammy to know what that means? Do you have any idea-”

“I do, actually,” She said. “And to put it for you simply Dean, mostly because I know you will keep arguing if I don’t, I will die if I don’t.”

“Don’t give me that,” Dean growled. “All of this was bad enough, but now this too. How far does this go?”

Madelyn raised an eyebrow. “Dean, have you actually ever known a human to survive giving birth to a half blood? From any sort of supernatural being? This just…happened.”

A low growl left Dean, but it wasn’t his gaze that she was avoiding, it was Sam’s.

Sam could read the guilt hidden beneath it all. “Maddie…”

She glanced at him and wet her lips a little, the guilt becoming even more evident. “I’m fine Sammy.”

He was having none of it though, his pain echoing hers. “Don’t give me that. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Out of all us, don’t you think I would’ve understood?”

Bobby and Dean looked between them, Crowley sighing softly next to her.

“You don’t owe them an explanation love.” He said quietly, just to her.

Madelyn sighed heavily, indecision weighing on her.

“Wait,” Dean said slowly, his frown deepening. “How long have you been getting visions Maddie?”

“I need to sit,” She said quietly, Crowley’s grip tightening a little on her arm. “Just…let me sit and…I can explain.”

“Mummy, your head is hurting.” Casey said, staring at her.

“I’ll be alright Casey,” Madelyn gave her a soft smile. “Don’t you worry about me. Let’s head back inside and you go back to your drawing, okay?”

She squirmed in Sam’s grip again though, Sam being forced to put her down, so she can go over to Madelyn, who picked her up.

“Casey…” Crowley sighed, and thinks for a moment. “I’ll be back shortly love.”

Madelyn nodded, Crowley vanishing, carrying Casey back into the house, the others following, their expressions grim.

Sitting back on the lounge, Madelyn sighs, brushing Casey’s hair with her fingers. “You’ve been so good through all this. Whatever am I going to do with you growing up so quick?”

Casey pouts a little. “I don’t like you in pain.”

“It happens sometimes, no matter how much we don’t want it to.” Madelyn kissed Casey’s forehead. “When we’re back at home, we’ll try and sort something out again, okay? For now, we have to help Uncle Dean.”

This surprised Dean, who earned Casey’s gaze for a moment, slowly nodding. “Will…that stop him hurting too?”

Madelyn smiled softly. “Hopefully baby.”

Casey seemed to think this over heavily, holding Madelyn’s gaze, before she sighed, something very reminiscent of Crowley, and nods again, her arms wrapping around Madelyn’s neck. “Okay.”

“Good girl,” Madelyn then smiled as Crowley reappeared, a bag in hand. “Now, why don’t you go see what Daddy’s brought you?”

The distraction worked, Casey smiling and climbing from her lap, hurrying over to Crowley, who winked at Madelyn, and crouched down to give her the new toys from the bag.

“Now,” Madelyn said slowly. “I…get that this is difficult to swallow, all of this, but at this point, what’s done is done. Be angry at me or whatever, I suppose you have every right to be, but just…let us finish explaining first.”

“Maddie-”

“I’ll get to it Sam,” Madelyn met his gaze. “I promise. I’ve only ever told one person about it, and even then that was against my better judgement at the time, it was just a shame that the bastard picked up on it, otherwise I very much would’ve taken it to the grave.”

Briefly, she met Crowley’s gaze, who just rolled his eyes.

“If it’s what I think it is,” Bobby said. “You’re in deep shit Mads.”

Madelyn chuckled, shaking her head, as Casey gathered her new toys and quickly disappeared into the next room. Crowley sat next to Madelyn, a hand resting reassuringly on her leg.

“Shall we just start where I left it?” He asked, although quickly chuckling at Sam and Dean’s looks. “Don’t worry, I’ll skip the juicy bits.”

“Considering I know you won’t be discreet,” Madelyn said. “I think that would be best.”

Crowley just smirks at her, and nods. “As you wish darling.”

‘You fucking claimed me???’

Crowley stared at the message on his phone, his mind reeling for a moment before he registered what it was really saying. ‘I'm sure you're mistaken.’

‘There's no mistaking this Crowley.’ The picture came through soon after the text and Crowley stared at it for a long moment and there was little doubt that that was a claim mark on her neck, still angry and raw after two weeks.

Something tugged in the back of his mind and before he thought too much if it, his hand reached up to his own neck and finds the very faint outline of teeth. It had been bothering him for days, or, now that he thought about it, since they'd been together, but he never considered something like this. He didn’t even recall doing it, and judging by her anger directed at him, neither did she.

‘Well, that complicates things a little. Looks like you weren’t much better.’

‘A fucking little??? Are you fucking kidding me??? Do you even understand the implications of this?’

‘What you think is bad for you is ten times worse for me, I assure you. I also don't approve of your tone.’

‘Fuck my tone and fuck you. This is bullshit. I do not belong to you. It was bad enough practically being forced to sleep with you.’

Crowley smirked to himself. ‘We'll see who's saying that when their next heat hits.’

‘Fuck you. I'll have my fucking angel blade ready. I will not be some sort of pawn.’

‘Oh? Getting into the kinky stuff already?’

He got no response to that and couldn't help but chuckle, despite knowing that the two of them would have to discuss this properly, no matter how much they didn't want to.

This was not part of the plan.

Nor, was it very good timing, he thought to himself, glancing around at the shitty trailer he’d had to take refuge in.

“Winchester’s.” He said to himself, taking a drink. “It always seems to be the Winchester’s.”

Madelyn herself was having a mental crisis, pacing her motel room, her hand constantly finding the mark on her neck, much to her own disgust. She had no idea how something like this could’ve happened, with a demon of all things, and now she had no idea what to do about it.

She didn’t understand how neither of them hadn’t realised.

Crowley had been right, they could completely avoid this, but only until her next heat, where there would only be one person she’d be able to think of now. It was infuriating to think that she was now stuck like this, and even more infuriating to know that it was her own stubbornness that caused it.

Sighing, she sat on the end of the bed, glancing at his last message and deciding to ignore it.

‘Do you have any suggestions?’

There was a long pause to this, which made her frown, her foot tapping on the floor, not wanting to let her mind get away from her, even as the bite gave another painful throb.

Finally, her phone buzzed with his response. ‘Oh? I would recommend something much safer for me for starters.’

It took a moment for her to realise what he was saying, a low growl leaving her. ‘Fuck off Crowley. Be serious about this.’

Madelyn knew that he’d be laughing at that, but it just made her grit her teeth more.

‘Well, talking about it in person would be much better to start with.’ He replied. ‘Would you like to meet somewhere in particular, or should I just come to you?’

She wasn’t having that, so they arranged to meet in a small café the next day. Madelyn wasn’t overly happy about it, but she figured a public place would at least stop some of the comments she knew were coming her way.

Crowley was waiting for her when she turned up, greeting her with a smirk. “Wonderful to see you again darling.”

Madelyn huffed as she sat. “Don’t give me that. There’s nothing wonderful about this.”

He eyed the scarf around her next, hiding his mark. He didn’t like it, but he kept that to himself. “Don’t be so down. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that Castiel, or God, as he’s currently calling himself, has informed me he won’t do anything about it.”

“Cas is-”

“I’m sorry,” Dean cut in loudly. “Cas knew about this?”

Crowley smirked. “Feather’s can actually keep a secret when he wants to, and seeing as he knew how the two of you in particular would react to such news, he knew it was wiser to do so.”

Dean muttered something under his breath, pulling out his phone and sending a message.

“Cas is God?” Madelyn asked. “What the hell happened?”

Crowley shook his head. “Hardly the point at the moment. What is, is that your mark on me was the only thing that saved me from being fried by our “new lord”.”

Madelyn frowned. “What?”

He tugged at his collar a little, enough to reveal the mark on his own neck. “Didn’t want to stir up your brothers more than they already are. We both know what would’ve happened.”

“Yeah,” She said bitterly. “Which is what we’re meant to be talking about here.”

“In due time love,” Crowley said casually, fixing his collar back up. “Did you want a drink? Seems a bit odd to just be sitting here talking.”

With great reluctance, she ordered, the two of them sitting in silence for a moment.

“Now, before we get into the nitty gritty of now,” Crowley said, just as she went to talk. “I do have a question to ask you.”

“Of course you do.” Madelyn said, frowning. “Why can’t things just be simple with you?”

But she quickly realised that this was going to be a serious question, something in his gaze telling her that this was something else. Tension shot down her spine, but she made no further reaction.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” He said, breaking away from her gaze, stirring a sugar into his coffee. “In the time between yesterday and today, that there was something different about you, and I’m not just talking about that lovely new mark on you that you are hiding.”

Madelyn shifted uncomfortably, playing with the scarf a little. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do love,” Crowley looked at her and held her gaze. “See, as I was reflecting on our time together, trying exactly to pinpoint when this lovely claiming happened, which was on the third day, if you were curious, I couldn’t help but think that there was something…unusual about the taste of your blood.”

“I wasn’t curious,” Madelyn said indignantly. “But thanks for that, I guess. As for my blood, I wouldn’t have a clue.”

But Crowley’s gaze was piercing, seeing straight through the lie, even as he kept his expression passive. “It’s faint, but it’s there. There’s demon in you Madelyn.”

“No,” Bobby said loudly. “Don’t you dare do that to us Mads.”

Madelyn looked at Bobby guiltily. “I’m sorry Bobby, I am. I never told anyone because I never thought anyone would believe me. For a long time I’d even convinced myself that it was a bad dream, at least until Sam started to go through some things.”

“So John didn’t even know?” He asked angrily and Madelyn shook her head, causing him to curse. “How did this happen?”

Crowley gave her leg a gentle squeeze.

Madelyn sighed. “When Sammy was born, I was fascinated, as most brothers and sisters are, so I would often sneak into his room after we were meant to be in bed.”

A silence followed as the three of them realised what this meant.

Sam swallowed. “So…you were there?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I was there.”

That hung heavily in the room for a moment.

Dean's anger broke through first. “You saw Mum die, and you never thought to fucking tell us?”

“Do you think I even really understood it at the time?” Madelyn asked, her voice quiet. “Any of it for that matter? I've dealt with this on my own for years Dean. With everything else we've been through, could you have really dealt with that too?”

“You had no right to keep that from us Maddie,” Dean growled. “From Dad least of all!”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Yes, I'm sure he would've appreciated having his heart broken again, and then to have the extra knowledge on top of what he worked out about Sam? He didn't need that Dean.”

“Is that why Azazel could possess you so easily?” He asked.

“Yes,” Crowley answered for her, a warning tone in his voice. “And if you don't back down Dean, you and I are going to have an issue.”

“It's alright Crowley,” Madelyn said softly. “He is allowed to be angry. I always knew they would be.”

“This is...a lot Maddie,” Sam said as Dean growled, agitatedly getting up. “The implications of it...”

“I wasn't the same as you Sam,” Madelyn said. “I was...an experiment. He found it most amusing.”

Crowley glanced at her, knowing how hard this was, as much as he'd never said anything at the time. As the two of them got to know each other, he saw that weight on her shoulders, and he wished that there was something he could do to ease it.

“Okay Mads,” Bobby said slowly, his voice passive. “What exactly has this meant for you?”

#supernatural #the demon the hunter and the halfblood #crowley #crowley x original female character #long fic #fic series #crowley fridays #sister winchester #alpha x omega #a/b/o

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meowdymista · 4 years

Text

Van der Driscoll Pt 2

Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

You guys asked for more. Again, it is not perfect, BUT I accidentally wrote so much with so many perfect cut off points... Instead of smashing it in one post, I’m going to hit you up with Part 3 Saturday 9am GMT just coz

Word count: 1540

Warnings: Violence, abuse

Part One & Masterlist

Part Three

He stiffens at that, his eyes darkening introspectively. "Heidi?"

Hysteria bubbles in your chest. "You don't know her name? You don’t even-!” A laugh erupts from your throat. “How do you act so high and mighty when you don’t even know her name?"

"Y/N-"

"She wouldn’t have been there if it weren't for me! And then I went ahead and slept with her killer!"

"I weren't on that ferry-"

"But you stayed knowing what he had done!" You choke as the sobs finally overcome you. "You stayed with him and I stayed with Colm and… I thought you made it better, but this is so so much worse."

Arthur swears, reaching for you before retracting his hand hesitantly. "I'm sorry- if I'd have known…"

"You'd what? Leave them?" You try to scoff but the corners of your mouth are dragging too far towards your chin. “You have that luxury?”

He sighs, defeated. “You ain’t been in the game as long as I have. Sometimes things get messy.”

“Messy is a pile of lawmen. Messy is a couple of horses being lost.”

“I wasn’t there - things go wrong-”

“A job gone wrong is loss without a payday - it was a fucking massacre, Arthur! It was indiscriminate slaughter!”

“I’m sorry, ok? We’re all sorry about what happened!” He flicks the reins as if determined to leave the gang behind. “Nobody knows why, but everything blew up and bodies started hitting the deck. You ain’t the only one that lost family on that damn ferry - we lost more people than we have done in years. We tried to tell him it didn’t feel right- but no one ever imagined that...”

He trails off, his chin low, eyes only seeing the road ahead. You shake your head, wanting nothing more than to curl up and cry, but the bonds are unforgiving so you stay as you are, looking anywhere but at the driver besides you.

Hours pass in silence. You catch him worrying in your peripherals occasionally, but it does nothing to help the ache in your chest nor the overwhelming exhaustion that has burrowed its way into your bone marrow.

Balancing a cigarette between his lips, he strikes a match on the bottom of his boot. When it’s lit, he offers it to you but you turn your head further away.

“I’ve been smoking a lot lately,” he mutters, smoke curling from his lips. “I’m starting to doubt whether I’m breathing you in or smoking you out.” He throws you another glance, his eyes sad under the rim of his hat as he takes another deep drag. You close your eyes, trying to ignore the pain that ripples in his words.

“Didn’t expect to see you out here!”

Your stomach flutters as the familiar face grunts its way into view. He stretches his legs out, leaning back on his arms that have crossed over your own. Officially seated, he gives you a dazzling smile that makes you melt.

“Can a lady not enjoy some peace and quiet in this town?”

He chuckles, setting the worn gambler’s hat aside as he lights a smoke. “Surprised you’d want to.”

You nudge him playfully, accepting the proffered tobacco with fixed eye contact. You inhale the same air he’s blowing into the misty morning, trying not to let the blush creep up your neck. “What brings you back to Valentine? Outta supplies already?”

He rolls his eyes. “I wish.” You cock a flirtatious eyebrow, but he shakes his head, suddenly serious. “Where were you last week? I made the trip especially.”

“I was… visiting friends,” you lie.

“D’your friends know about me?”

“Do yours?”

His fingers caress your hand as he takes back the cigarette. “Touché.”

“What would you have done if it had been the other way round?” he asks eventually. “If you and Colm’s boys came into our camp… What would you have done?”

“I kill men - not women.” You open your eyes to meet his brooding gaze. “I… can’t imagine I’d have done well when I learned about the boy neither.”

“If they weren’t there?”

You swallow the lump in your throat as he looks away. “I wouldn’t have had a choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” he says lowly. “Is that what you tell yourself?” Your laugh is damp.

“This life…”

“Is shit.” You scoff as his lips thin. “We don’t go into it because we want to. The only reason we stick with it is because we’ve made too many enemies to go clean.”

“C’mon, it ain’t all bad-”

“Everything about us is fucked because we got caught in the crosshairs.” His mouth twists, your own disappointment reflected in his slouched shoulders. “You made me feel like… like all this mess was happening for a reason, but now…” Your voice breaks. “Even if I got away from Colm, you won’t leave Dutch. You wouldn’t have taken me back there if you could’ve. Everything is just… fucked.”

"How's your side?” he enquires gently.

"Least of my worries,” you mutter. You haven’t been able to sleep properly for weeks now, and when you do, your dreams are borderline hallucinogenic. The exhaustion has long since soaked into your bones, and now with your limbs bound for yet another unending hour, it wasn’t like the wound (or your broken tooth) were worthy of your concern.

Your giggles peeter out as you realise what he’s seeing. His eyes are soft and sad as his fingertips drink in the irregularities of your skin as gently as they can.

“Every one of them is a story,” you murmur, pulling his chin up and away from your body. “A story for another time.”

The corner of his lips tucks into his cheek. “Well, if we ain’t sharing secrets-” He leans back and pulls his shirt over his head in one swift tug. Your hands are small, pale and delicate against the muscles of his stomach. You comb them through the golden hair, trying not to linger on the silver scars that litter his body.

You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull him in, wordlessly thanking him. He responds firmly, his tongue tracing your lips as your bodies mould to one another. Despite your efforts, you realise with a sinking stomach that you have gone and fallen in love with him.

Graceful in defeat, you gorge yourself in this new emotion, allowing yourself to bask in the temporary bliss that is his company.

Dirt builds up behind your nails as you hiss back into the present moment.

“Done,” breathes Arthur, his fingers grazing the soft flesh of your hip as he cuts the thread. “I guess I should have guessed where all your stories came from. I didn’t mean to become one of them.”

You try to inspect the stitches yourself but they’re just out of your line of sight. Pulling down your shirt, you look around for the bedroll. Every string of every muscle is screaming for rest, no matter how temporary. As though reading your mind, Arthur tuts.

“You need to eat somethin’.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You should be. When was the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know. I don’t care either."

He lights another cigarette as you crawl across the grass of your small camp and collapse just inside the tent. You barely close your eyes before the smell of tobacco wakes you again.

“Eat.”

You groan loudly. “What about you?”

“Forget about me.” A cigarette is pinched between his incisors as he begins to pack away the camp. “If you don’t start eatin’, I’m gonna have to do something we’ll both regret.”

The weight of your arms with the small spoon of soup is laughable. You force your mouth to meet it, your entire focus taken up by the menial task. You manage half a bowl before surrendering. Arthur is watching you over the back of his horse, the lines between his brows digging six feet into his head. He looks away quickly, his mouth still a thin line despite his efforts.

“We got another while to go yet.”

“Where are we going?” You watch him unpin the tent and fold it up.

“East.”

“East?” you repeat, laughing at how your ears have warped the sound. Your stomach sinks as you watch him purposely avoid you. “You handing me over?”

“What? No! O’course not, Y/N, I ain’t stupid.”

“Then… why east?” You watch him closely and notice his knee jittering despite his weight. “Where are you taking me?”

“You can’t stay here.”

“And you can’t let me go. If Colm catches me-”

“I won’t let him.”

“Then… what?” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I know you ain’t going to let me stay with you after what I said about Dutch.” Your weak laugh comes out breathless. “Arthur?”

“I’ll make sure you get out of here alright. I owe you that at least.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” you state as calmly as you can. “I’ll be fine.”

The shadows under his eyes are darker today. You can’t help but wonder how much longer he stayed awake after you passed out. “I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to you, Y/N. Let me have this.”

#rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #red dead fic #red dead fanfic #arthur x female reader #Arthur Morgan x Female Reader #Arthur Morgan x Reader #arthur morgan #Arthur Morgan x O'Driscoll #MeowdyMista

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loudsuitlover · 4 years

Text

Doctor Harry XVI. La vereda de la puerta de atrás

A/N: Finally we know what happened to Harry! I’m excited for you guys to read this, let me know what you think :)

INDIE’S POV

I can barely make it to my room. It surprises me how many tears we can make without drying ourselves. I started crying the second I got away from Harry’s house and I cried all the way to my house in the taxi and still I’m not done.

I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why in the world I thought it would be okay if I just talked about that but the fact that Harry’s friend collaborated on the association and the way he said “it was their son, right?”

It wasn’t just their son. It was Dylan and Dylan was everything. Dylan made me play piano every day, Dylan would come over to my house just to see me for 5 minutes even if he lived 40 minutes away, Dylan showed me the best sunset I have yet seen. And Dylan was also a musician and he was a friend and, yes, he was a son, and a boyfriend and a grandson.

He was my first love and I swore he would be the last because there’s just no other way. He was half of me, it’s as simple as that. We were connected and we still are and we will always be because that’s just what it is when you find the one. I know most people don’t even find them, most people search their entire lives to find what I had with Dylan and still never find it so I should be thankful because it’s better to have loved and lost than to haven’t loved at all; but it’s just so hard…

I lie on my side on my bed and let the tears soak my pillow. I can’t push the memories away now. I opened the dam and now everything is coming out and choking me. I remember my Mum knocking on my bedroom door, the way she looked, I’ll always remember the way she looked. And my screams, tearing my throat up, and her small arms trying to hold me as I yelled and fought. I remember the sirens and then the hospital and Dylan’s mother’s face and how my hands trembled.

I don’t even know how in the midst of all the horror I’ve fallen asleep but the vibration of my phone against the mattress wakes me up. I bring it to my ear without checking the caller ID.

“Indie, thank God!” Harry’s loud voice pierces my ear.

“What is it?” My voice is hoarse after the sleep and the crying.

“What happened?” He asked. “The doorman told me you were crying. It’s the first time he tells me something like that.”

“Well it must have shocked him, I’m sure the rest of Med students that leave your apartment leave with a big smile and freshly fucked.” I regret my words as soon as I say them. “Sorry, that is none of my business.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“What happened, Indie? Were you crying for something I said or didn’t say or-”

“No” I cut him off before he keeps messing up “it has nothing to do with you. It’s just… I cry every time I talk about him. I don’t like talking about what happened.”

Harry sighs.

“Yeah, I understand…” He doesn’t. “It’s the same for me…”

“What?”

“Listen, baby, I gotta go but… Uh… I’ll see you tomorrow night?”

Tomorrow night? He’s crazy.

“I can’t.” I lie.

“Tomorrow is Sunday, baby…”

“I have plans.”

He sighs.

“Indie, I-”

“It’s true.” I lie. “I’m not like you, I do have a life.”

“Wow.”

My eyes fill with tears again. I am a horrible person. I don’t even know why I said that to him but I can’t even speak now, my throat is completely closed. How could I throw that in his face after what he told me? I deserve all the bad things that could happen to me.

“Call me when you’re not mad anymore so we can talk.”

He hangs up. The distress hits me harder, it wraps around my chest and presses down and I feel like it’s going to collapse but I don’t even care if I stopped breathing.

Whenever I think of him, it’s like it’s happening all over again, like I never did all that progress, like I never went to therapy or like it’s the first time this is hitting me. But it’s not; and I know what I have to do. I can’t be alone or I would go down the same old dark road again and I don’t want that. I can’t endure that same old story.

Jason appears on my door not half an hour later. This reminds me so much of those months too but somehow instead of a trigger is comforting because he was there for me then and he’s here for me now and he’ll be here if I need him tomorrow and his hug always feels like the world can’t touch me if his arms are around me. I start crying again.

It's not as catastrophic as it was before but the quietness only makes it even harder. My heart is breaking all over again and now it’s doing it silently. Frustration is added to the pain because I don’t want to stay always stuck here. I want to move on and be able to talk about Dylan without wanting to die myself and instead here I am, on a cocoon on Jason’s arms as I silently cry on the couch.

I tilt my neck when I wake up for the third time today and find Jason with a deep frown and lips on a thin line. I look away from him and pout like a little girl. Of course he’s still mad at me. This doesn’t change what I said to him.

“How did he find out?” He asks instead. “Did you tell him?”

I nod and feel his hand on the low of my back as he shifts closer to me.

“A friend of his collaborates with Dylan’s organisation and… He asked about him.”

“Harry did?”

“No, his friend. Harry didn’t know anything until this morning…”

Jason hums. His hand keeps drawing figures on my back so I dare to look at him again.

“Are you still mad at me?” I whisper as if I was afraid he would hear me and then say yes.

His eyes bore into mine.

“Do you really want to talk about this now?”

“So yes.” I look ahead but from the corner of my eye I can still feel his eyes fixed on me. “You can leave if you want.”

“I also didn’t have to come if I didn’t want to.” He points out. “But I still came because I love you.” He sighs. “Listen, I wish you would keep your opinion about my relationship to yourself but I talked to Marie and I know where you’re coming from. I know you mean well, Indie, and that you’re just worried about me but I respect you and the only thing I ask is for you to do the same.”

Oh, God, I don’t want to cry again.

“You’re right, J. I’m a terrible person and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or disrespect you. I love you so much.” The tears win the battle as they roll down my cheeks. “You’re… You’re still one of the few people that actually put up with me and… I know I’m… Not making it easy for anyone but” I sob “I really do need you all. I feel so alone, J.”

His muscled arms wrap around me as he pulls me to him.

“You’re not alone, Indie.” His voice cracks. “You’ve got us, we’ll always be here for you, and you’ve got your family. You’ll never be alone, Indie-pixie. And about me putting up with you, I never want to hear you say that bullshit again, do you hear me? I’m fucking lucky to have you. Anyone who has you in their life is.” He presses a kiss on my hair line. “You take care of me and I know no matter what I can always count on you and I fucking love you, okay? We all do.”

“I love you too.”

“Good.” He puff a laugh. “Now let’s go eat something, I’m starving.”

I’m not but I go with him to my kitchen and watch him cook pasta for the two of us. If Dylan was here he’d force me to eat. He always did that but I always dismissed him. I’ve never had any eating problem, it’s just that Dylan thought I ate so little because he ate like some hungry lion all the time and for some reason he thought I should eat like him. He loved my mum’s cooking.

I remember back in Capitol in my house, which now is my dad’s house, we had this huge kitchen with huge glass windows that looked at my mum’s garden and I remember right before we started dating we would do our homework on the kitchen while she cooked and Dylan would be the taster of everything.

I imagine I would try to cook Spanish food for him now. He would like that I took up cooking, that’s for sure, and I’m sure he’d like everything I made too. But I’ll never know because he’s gone and he’ll never come back.

It was so hard to be in that kitchen or in that dining room or even in my room. I can barely sleep there. Everything at Capitol reminds me of him and that’s why it’s just so hard to visit my dad.

Jason sets a plate of pasta in front of me and I grab the fork even if I couldn’t eat if I tried.

“What did you guys do last night?” I try to divert my thoughts from Dylan to literally anywhere else.

“We had dinner at my place and then we went to Loft 39.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes, but it would have been better with you.”

I smile even though I doubt it.

“How’s Ollie?”

“Lost.” Jason shrugs. “She told me what she did to Mario and you’re right, it is nasty.”

“I talked to him last night, he was at Elvis Buchanan’s birthday and I think he’s falling for her…”

“Who the hell is Elvis Buchanan?” He frowns and I chuckle.

“He’s a guy.” I shrug. “He’s nice.”

His eyes look up from his plate to mine.

“How are things with Harry?”

I shrug. Well, the other night he cried on my bed and last night he told me to get my own blanket if I was cold but after that we spooned and he ate me out this morning. So I have no idea.

“What do you think?” I ask him instead “You know, about Harry and me?”

“What’s there to think?”

I shrug.

“I don’t know… I mean… Do you think he’s using me?”

“Do you?”

I shrug.

“Where is this coming from, Indie?”

“It’s just… This morning he talked to this friend and when he asked him who I was he said I was a Med student.”

Jason’s eyes narrow.

“And you are.”

“Yes, but… Is that what I am to him? A Med student?”

“Well, what is he to you?”

I’m struck dumb.

“A friend.” I tell him.

He nods.

“Well, I’m guessing he was just trying to establish you, I guess. I mean what else could he say? It’s how you met after all.”

I don’t want to keep talking about it, especially having Dylan’s smile on my mind so I look away from him and nibble some on my past at the risk of throwing up.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asks.

I guess that’s a way of taking my mind off. We play Failure to Launch but I fall asleep soon after Sarah Jessica Parker shows up. Grieving is really exhausting.

“Indie”

Warm hands lightly shake my arms and I blink.

“Dylan?”

“No, it’s Jason.”

I rub my eyes and see Jason looking at me with sorrowful eyes.

I feel my heart crashing on my chest. I haven’t seen a single photo of Dylan since his funeral. I can’t. But it’s heart-breaking to realize how hard it is for me to remember his face now. I know the colour of his eyes, and I can fantasize about his smile but if I close my eyes and try to see his entire face, I just… It’s not like a picture.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Jason walks me to bed and lies down next to me before he wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him.

Had I been with Harry, he wouldn’t have woken me up to take me to bed. Instead, he would have picked me up like a kid and take me to bed himself. I don’t know why I just thought about that.

Jason’s fast asleep but I lie wide awake on the mattress. Of course I would do that, I’d fall asleep at any random moment and then stay up for the rest of the night. As much as I try to fall asleep it’s impossible and I wonder if this is how Harry feels when he can’t sleep too. No wonder he was harsh to me, this is terrible.

I haven’t gotten anything from him all day after our talk on the phone. Not that it surprises me after what I told him, but I still wonder how he’s doing. I wish I could talk to my therapist right now. Well, I don’t, because I know what she’s going to say and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to fight her again, but I guess I want to know what I’m thinking and I know it sounds silly to say that but I need help figuring that out.

I remember when Dylan passed away I had this feeling in my chest and my belly and I thought I had asthma but it was none of that, it was just anguish and the thing was I couldn’t put my finger on it to the point where I just thought I was sick on my lungs and not on my mind. Even after therapy though, sometimes it’s hard for me to kind of know what I’m feeling.

I need to get out of bed. I’m driving myself crazy and, since Harry’s not around, the only other thing that manages to take my mind off, is downstairs so I try not to wake Jason up as I make my way to the reading room. When I slide the door opened, I entertain my eyes with the moonlight hitting the piano and without thinking, I sit on the stool and lift up the black lid so the keys are exposed to me.

I run my fingers through them, I haven’t played in three years. I’m not even sure I’m going to remember how to play but my fingers seem to remember Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata even before my mind does.

I’m not me anymore, I’m a part of a bigger thing, I’m a part of what’s playing and it surprises me to realize before I met Harry, I had resigned from feeling this way, from not thinking and just being but after I met Harry or since I know Harry, this is how he makes me feel. He makes me feel like music does.

It scares me because I know everything would be less painful if he was here now, if he was sitting down on one of the reading chairs listening to my sonata before he stood up and took me bare. But he is not and he won’t be here because it’s just sex between us.

I look ahead when I finish the piece and find a flabbergasted Jason staring at me with his lips parted. I look down, embarrassed.

“That was beautiful, Indie.”

“It wasn’t.” I complain. “It was sad.”

“It was sad and beautiful.”

I don’t understand how something can be sad and beautiful but I’ll let it go. I know Jason’s tired and I should try to get some sleep too.

“That was the first time I played since Dylan died.” I say. “Do you think I’m betraying him?”

Jason’s eyes hold mine for the longest minute. I don’t expect what he says.

“He’d like him.”

HARRY’S POV

It’s been a chill Monday. I’ve only had two surgeries and two hours of office so I’ve been able to work on my patients’ record a lot but it’s been hard to focus.

Family weekends always drain me, especially when it’s not my plan so I didn’t have time to prepare, not that I prepare very well anyway and to make things worse, Indie hasn’t contacted me yet.

I know I should give her time and space and all that shit but I’m tired of this back and forth with her. I don’t even know why but I have this need to make sure she’s okay and I just don’t want her to be in pain. It’s as simple as that. And knowing she’s gone through that… I guess it just explains a lot of things.

And I know I don’t deserve her, I don’t deserve any of this but… I’m starting to think maybe I don’t have to… Be alone all the time. She doesn’t want anything other than the physical relationship we have from me and that’s good, that’s safe; but it doesn’t mean I don’t worry about her. I never thought someone like her was going to show up and just change everything but for the first time since it happened, I actually want to tell somebody about it. I want to tell her. Yet I don’t know how… Because for all I know she might just storm out of the room- the girl has a temper- or tell me she’s not an ONG or something like that but… I just think if I can get her understanding I might forgive myself and I’m starting to think she might need me too.

Harry: Are you at uni?

I know she is because she was driving herself crazy when she had to miss lectures because she was sick so I don’t think she’d skip a lecture for any other reason. I think it’s cute that she’s such a psycho. She gives me a hard time over the amount of hours I work but I’m pretty sure I won’t see her face at all during finals.

Indie: Yes.

Harry: At the lectures hall?

Indie: Yes

Indie: What do you want?

Harry: I’m picking you up

Indie: What?

Indie: No!

Harry: Why not?

Indie: I’m going shopping with Marie.

Harry: Well, go some other day.

Indie: No, I’ll see you some other day.

Harry: Please, love.

Indie: I said no but don’t worry I’m sure you can find some other Med student to fuck.

I hate it when she says that. It’s none of her business like she keeps saying but she really does get on my nerves when she acts like that. The only reason I was seeing other people is because she said we were “just sex”.

Anyway, I’m picking her up. I’ll drive her and Marie to the shops if that’s what I need to do to be able to talk to her. She can’t just act as if she cared and then shut me out and push me away whenever she feels like it.

I am leaning against the bars where the students lock their bikes when I see her walking out of the lectures hall holding a folder against her chest. She frowns and pouts like a mad little girl when she spots me and I know it shouldn’t be funny to me but I just think it’s so cute that her face is so giving. She stops in front of me and doesn’t stop frowning but I’m grinning at her. She’s hilarious.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“You gave me no other choice.” I shrug.

“Yes, you could have waited for tomorrow.” She whispers through clenched teeth.

“You would have given me another excuse.” We both know that.

“Why are you smiling? Do you think this is funny?”

“Sort of.” I admit. “I mean, I’m not fully sure why you’re mad.”

“Anyone could see you here.” She looks at both her flanks.

“Indie, I work here. It’s not strange for anyone to see me here.”

“Yes, but talking to me?”

Her words sting but I don’t let her see that.

“I told you I can’t meet you today.”

“Yes, because you were going shopping with Marie who is nowhere to be found.”

“We’re meeting at the shops.”

“Okay, well, I’ll drive you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“I just want to talk.”

She studies my face. Her hair is tied up on a long braid that falls on her back but some thin locks have fallen out of it and dance over her face. I want to tuck them behind her ear but I don’t. I need to stop doing that sort of things. She sighes, she’s going to say yes.

“Okay.”

I smile and walk towards my car and she adjust her bag on her shoulder before she starts walking next to me. She is texting someone and my hands seem to have a mind of their own because they hold her waist as we walk down the kerb towards the parking lot, afraid that she might not see it and stumble. Her body tenses up, she’s just as surprised as I am.

The drive is silence because she’s still texting whoever it is she’s talking to and I take the time to arrange my thoughts. I’ve never actually told anyone about this. Those who know know because they’re a part of the story one way or another but I’ve never sat in front of a third person and told them about the accident.

When I pull over at the shops parking lot, Indie unfastens her seat belt but waits for me to say something. She’s nervous and she’s probably uncomfortable too but I don’t want to do this here.

“Should we have a cup of coffee?” I offer.

She weighs her options. I don’t think she knows I’d do whatever she asks me to but she nods. I wait for her in order to walk side by side to the nearest café we can find and I dare to place a hand on her lower back as I gently guide her to one of the tables. She’s scolded me before about me not touching her in public and even though she just fought me for showing up at the lectures hall, I think she doesn’t mind the contact when we’re not in the hospital.

We take a seat on one of the tables near the far window. Through the window we can see the road, there’s a narrow pavement between the café and the road, but not many people pass by. It’s too cold for walks already so all we see is cars driving by. When a person walks by though, I see the fog coming out of their mouths as they breathe. It makes our spot cosier since warmth is not something you can see, but; likewise everything, it’s something you can feel better when you’re face to face with its absence.

Indie looks incredible, as usual. I love how pink looks on her and how cosy she looks on her winter clothes. Her hazel eyes bore into mine like she was a deer and I was the spotlight and I don’t know why all of a sudden she’s giving me that look. That’s the look she gives me on the bedroom too.

“How are you?” I start.

“Good.” She shakes.

Am I making her this nervous? I’m the one who’s nervous… Maybe I’m passing it on her. But she just looks so good and soft and fragile… I don’t want to say something that would somehow hurt her. I feel my heart beating fast and hard against my ribs. I’ve never been more afraid of anything on my life but I don’t want her to blame me and I’m afraid she will.

“Are you nervous?”

“No” she shakes her head “I’m just cold.”

“Do you want my jacket?”

I start taking it off before she can answer but she stops me by lifting her hands in the air.

“No, I’ve got my own coat. You’ll freeze.”

“I’m not cold, baby.”

I lend her my jacket and she covers her shoulders with it before she tucks her hands between her thighs trying to warm up. I order two cups of coffee and stare at her.

“You’re always cold.”

It’s true. She always shakes when she ends up alone in the bed because she moves around a lot and unlike me, her hands and her arms are always cold too. She nods and gives me a knowing smile.

“Are you still mad at me?”

She shakes her head. Good. I won’t ask why she was mad in case that makes her mad again. Plus, I’m about to tell her a very intimate part of me. I need her to be on my side.

“And sad?”

Her big eyes look down to the table. The waiter places our two cups on the table and her fingers break the wrapper of a sugar package before she adds some sugar to her coffee.

“I know you are, Indie.” She stirs the coffee. “And I understand.”

The repetitive movement of her hand stops and my heart follows suit when she looks up at me. I’ve never seen her like this before and I wish I could take her pain away but for the first time I don’t feel like she’s better than me. I don’t see her like this girl who takes care of everyone, drinks gin and doesn’t let you get too close. She’s vulnerable and she needs me too.

“I didn’t like that you dropped that bomb like that and just left as if we were strangers but that was not about me, I take it. And after the way you talked to me on the phone, I understood you didn’t want to see me or talk to me and I’ve respected that but-”

“Why did you say you understand?” Her eyes bore into mine and my breath catches on my throat. “You said that that day and you’ve said that now.”

I take a deep breath. Here we go…

“My sister had a car accident when she was twenty-two years old. I know it’s not the same, because she didn’t die, but… She almost did.” My voice croaks but the way she’s looking at me, with brown eyes wide opened and her full lips shut makes me go on. “Uh, she was in a coma for 5 days and… We didn’t know if she was… Going to make it. She did but… Uh… She can’t walk.”

Indie places her hand over mine and only then I realize I’m shaking. She intertwines our fingers and I stare at out hands. Her skin is so much tanner than mine and so much softer too.

“I’m very sorry, Harry.”

How can she be sorry? Her boyfriend died on a car accident. This is not the same… Yet it’s still hard.

“She was pregnant.”

Indie’s eyes sadden further and her grip on my hand tightens. I can’t tell her.

“The baby died on her womb and it teared in the accident so they had to remove it in surgery so… Uh, she can’t carry babies now.”

“Shit.”

“I didn’t help her or anyone at all. I just… I couldn’t. Even now I can’t even look at her without feeling so terrible.” I confess. “And I know she doesn’t want that, she doesn’t need that; but I just… Can’t overcome that, I guess. So… It’s always very hard for me to see her and that obviously has driven me away from my family.”

Indie nods. I guess she doesn’t know what to say to me.

“Is that why you started working so hard?” Her voice comes out in a thin whisper. “You told me you kind of buried yourself in work… Is that why? So that you wouldn’t think about it?”

I nod.

“I was eighteen when that happened and I think that’s the reason why I decided to become a doctor. My sister spent the entire summer in the hospital, you know, learning how to… Be, I guess and after I went to uni and… Everyone was like going out and having fun and meeting new people and falling in love but I just… Was not in that point in my life so I didn’t really make many friends, also because I wouldn’t let many people in and… Yeah, I guess I just started studying a lot and afterwards working a lot.”

“Do you not see your family at all anymore?”

“No, I do.” I nod. “I visit them every once in a while. They were here yesterday and the day before, that’s why I didn’t, uh, I don’t know contact you to try to comfort you even though I don’t think I would have been successful.”

I give her a sad smile that she reciprocates.

“Is that why you can’t sleep?”

Kind of. I nod. I lick my lips before I bring my cup to my lips and take a sip.

“You didn’t have to tell me about this so thank you.” She gives me a sad smile.

“I wanted to.” I confess. “I wanted you to know that you’re not alone and that you can talk to me if you ever… I don’t know.” I smile at her.

“Thank you.” She has a sip of her coffee before she takes a deep breath. “I never really talk about it or him.” Her dark eyebrows lower on her forehead. “I… I… I don’t like how it makes me feel.”

I hold her hand and bring it to my mouth, kissing her skin as she stares at me with a surprised expression. I’m surprised too. I don’t know what I’m doing.

“You don’t have to.” I shrug, trying to dismiss how I just crossed the line. “I just want you to know that if you ever want to or need to, you can tell me.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “But I’m better now anyway.”

“Good.” I rub my hands together as I give her a smile. “Then what do you feel like doing now?”

She chuckles.

“Going shopping with Marie like I told you.”

Oh, so she wasn’t lying.

“Can I go with you and give you girls my opinion on the changing room?”

“Of course not.”

I click my tongue and make a grimace of disappointment that has her chuckling again.

“It was worth a shot.” She agrees making me laugh.

But now I can’t take the image of her perfect body trying on lingerie out of my head. I imagine the way the soft lace would rest on top of her skin because she always wears clothes that fit her perfectly without being tight and that always drives me mad. How easy it is to just slip her panties down her soft legs…

“Don’t go shopping, Indie.”

She frowns. This is insane, how she unwillingly and unknowingly controls my emotions giving me the mood swings of a pregnant woman. She’s driving me crazy for real.

“Don’t you want to show me the underwear you’re wearing now?”

Her eyes widen but don’t leave mine so I smile mischievously. I know her better than she’d like and I know she likes it when I talk dirty to her. It’s like everything we’ve talked about before this, as serious as it was, is not on our minds anymore. It’s hard to think of anything other than her when she’s right in front of me, giving me her attention like she is now, looking at me and listening to me and just being here. I want to be closer to her.

“Do you not want my mouth on you, baby?” I lick my lips and watch her cheeks tinging pink. “Do you want to know what I want?”

Her lips part but instead of answering she takes air in. I don’t need her to say yes for me to know she does want to. She always does.

“I want to put your perfect ass against my kitchen counter and eat you out like you deserve, love.”

Her juicy mouth parts and I feel my dick hardening. She’s so easy, she’s as horny as I am.

“And then I’d fuck you onto the counter until your ass goes numb. Look at you, you’re blushing.” I grin. “It never fails to surprise me how shy you seem to be out of bed and how dirty you are in it.”

“Maybe I’m the perfect example of a lady out and a slut in.”

If she had said that any other way, I would have played along but the way she lifted her chin and clenched her jaw gives her away.

“Indie, you’re not a slut.” She rolls her eyes. “Why? Because you like sex? That doesn’t make you a slut, baby, it makes you a human.”

My hand reaches for her braid and I twirl a finger around it before I grip it between my fingers and gently pull from it bringing her face closer to mine until our lips are inches away.

“I like it” I tell her “that you’re free and you know what you want, it’s fucking sexy, baby.”

I press my lips against hers before she can reprimand me for the PDA and I feel her breath against my mouth as she takes the kiss. It takes her a few seconds to reciprocate but I smile when she bites my bottom lip. I bet she’s shutting her thighs together but before I can check that with my own hand underneath the table, her phone rings and she pulls apart.

“Hi, Marie.” She gives me a death glare as she wipes my saliva from her lips. “I’m having a cup of coffee on” she tilts her neck searching for the name of the cafeteria “on Sionpa, it’s right next to the- oh, right, yeah, yeah, that’s the one but don’t” she all but yells “worry, I can, I’ll go out. There’s no need for you to come all the way here. See you in a second.”

The things she would say not to have her friends see me. I smile as she leaves a bill on the table.

“Here, I’ve got your coffee too.” She says.

“Thank you.”

Her eyes narrow. I know she was expecting a bit of resistance on my part but I know she doesn’t like it when I don’t let her pay so she won’t have it. I grin.

“Oh, Harry!”

Indie turns around and Adam grins at us.

INDIE’S POV

“Indie!” Adam’s face lightens up as he leans in to give me a light hug. “I hadn’t recognized you! It’s very nice to see you! How are you?”

This guy is so well-mannered and friendly. It even surprises me that he’s that close to Harry.

“Hi, Adam. I’m good, thank you, how are you?”

“Good. What a coincidence, hey?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Harry asks him.

He’s stood up from his chair and is now standing next to me with his hand on my low back.

“I need to get my mother a present. It’s not going well.” He smiles.

Harry chuckles.

“Just get her a book.”

“That’s like the least personal thing you could get her.” I complain.

“I don’t think so.” Harry argues back. “A scarf is less personal.”

“You are the king of presents.”

Harry shrugs and Adam chuckles at our interaction.

“Is this what you were having?” Marie points at Harry with raised eyebrows and an annoyed expression.

Oh, shit.

“Marie!”

Adam laughs and my friend her eyes roam up and down his body. He grins at her. Alright, what is going on?

I look at Harry but he seems as lost as I am. He gives me a confused look as if he was waiting for me to solve this but I don’t know what we’re supposed to do either.

“Hi, I’m Adam. I’m a friend of Harry’s.”

“I’m Marie, a friend of Indie’s.”

Adam shakes Marie’s hand and I think everyone can see how she turned into the heart eyed emoji. Oh, Marie, don’t be so obvious… But he hasn’t taken his eyes off her either. She smiles nervously.

“Do you guys want to have a cuppa?”

“Well, we-”

“We’d love one.” Marie smiles.

“Sure.” Harry surprises me.

What are they doing?! I give Harry a death glare but he looks away so I focus on the other little devil.

“What was that? The shops are gonna close.”

“Well” she shrugs “the shops are there every other day.”

I stand there like a fool as Harry brings two more chairs to our table and takes a seat himself. Marie does the same and that’s when my head goes into a short-circuit. I would have never thought I would be having coffee with Harry at some random cafeteria, much less with Marie in what looks like a double date. Harry licks his lips inside his mouth amused and taps the empty chair next to him but I sit down next to Marie.

“Did you call him?” Marie asks me the second I sit down. She’s back. “Or did you follow her around?”

I feel my cheeks heating up but Harry grins as he looks at her.

“Second option.”

“And why do you do that?”

My eyes widen. Did timid Marie just ask that? She’s frowning at him as if she was a cop confronting a criminal and my breath catches on my throat. Harry looks at me before he looks back at my friend.

“Because I like her company.”

“Just because of that?” She challenges.

“Marie, dear Lord, shut it.”

“No” She frowns at me. “This is bad. She’s a lot younger than you, mister, and you’re her mentor, what if-”

“This is half the cuppas.” Adam says as he places a cup of tea before me and the other one before Marie. “I’ll be back with the rest.”

“What’s your game?” She resumes her accusations as soon as Adam walks away. “What do you want from her?”

“Marie, seriously, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Why? If you don’t ask the questions, somebody has to.”

“I’m not a-”

“I’m not playing with Indie.” Harry answers cutting my words short.

He’s studying Marie’s face with a stern expression. I wouldn’t be able to tell what’s going through his mind.

“I never have and what I want from her, she knows perfectly fine since the very first day.”

He doesn’t seem mad or annoyed at my friend’s rude behaviour but I’m beyond embarrassed. Thankfully, Adam arrives with his coffee and Harry’s and takes a seat next to his friend before another word can be spoken.

“Were you guys on a date?”

What is going on today? What sort of question is that? Harry chuckles and only then I realize he’s looking at me. My face must be a technicolour poem.

“No” I answer before Harry can embarrass me any further “we don’t go on dates.”

“I beg to differ.” Harry challenges with a smug smile.

I’m going to kill him. Adam and Marie look at each other trying to see if any of them know what’s going on but I mean neither do I.

“So how long for have you guys known each other?” He asks Marie.

Thank God, I need a break. Harry’s still smiling at me, he’s clearly loving this.

“Four years. We go to uni together.”

“Oh, so you study Medicine too?”

“Yes.” Marie nods.

“Oh, gosh, three nerds and me.” Adam jokes and my friend laughs.

“What did you study?” She asks. “If you studied at all.” She panics. “Because it’s fine if you didn’t. I mean you don’t have to, you know, it’s a valid choice not to and it’s also a valid choice to study. Please somebody stop me.”

Adam throws his head back and laugh and Harry fights against his smile but fails. Marie is adorable.

“I studied Journalism.”

“Oh.” Marie nods. “It sounds interesting.”

“Well” he shrugs “I’m currently working at this big cosmetics firm. I’m the crisis management responsible.” He nods. “I get all these free products that I don’t even know how to use.”

I chuckle. He’s great, what a subtle way of letting my friend know he doesn’t have a girlfriend. I almost bow at him.

“Really?” Marie chuckles. “That’s so cool!”

He chuckles and frowns.

“I mean, you can have them even though you don’t need them.”

I try to control my chuckle because he’s not laughing but I catch Harry rolling his eyes from the corner of mine. He then looks at me and smiles. My phone screen lightens up and Harry’s eyes drop on it too. He’s the nosiest person I’ve ever met. It’s an Instagram notificacion.

@gemmastyles liked your picture.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles stories #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles alternative universe #harry styles au #harry styles news #harry styles daily

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aestheticseungmean · 4 years

Text

Bad Boy

Idk what this is...

Bad boy Minho has his eye on you but you despise him. What happens when an ex forces you to pity him?

———————————————————

Minho was the school’s bad boy dancer that the girls went crazy for. Of course, with any girl at his disposal, he had a new flavor every week. None lasting longer than ten days. Every girl dreamed of him, well, every girl except you. You kept to yourself, always ignoring the suggestive looks Minho gave you. When he talked to you, it was always to tease you. You’ve left him speechless a few times before. Like the one time you got out of the shower to see who was at the door. Minho made a snide comment to which you responded: “Keep your dick in your pants.”

You woke up to the sound of Minho’s alarm. How funny you two were next-door neighbours with only paper-thin walls separating you two. Sighing, you got up and got dressed in shorts and an oversized shirt. It was a Saturday so nothing to do except go to the bookshop. Part of it was because the cashier was cute and the other part because you needed more books. You walked out the door with your keys and wallet. A buzz vibrated your leg and you pulled out your phone. 𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙨. The first one you opened was from your friend, Chan.

C̆̈h̆̈ă̈n̆̈n̆̈ĭ̈ĕ̈

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲?

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗽𝗶𝗴𝘀 𝗳𝗹𝘆

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿. 𝗜’𝗺 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴.

You sighed and turned around towards Chan’s apartment and started walking. Ultimately, you decided to open the next message and groaned when you noticed the sender.

🅸🅳🅸🅾︎🆃 🤬

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴?

𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲?

Rᴇᴀᴅ

You muttered to yourself. “Asshole. Why ask me a question if you’re going to leave me on read.” “Why text you when I can tell you?” The noise made you halt. Slowly you turned around. “How do you even have my number?” “Jisung.” You rolled your eyes. Of course. Jisung and his big mouth. “I’m heading to Chan’s for your information.” He laughed. “What a coincidence! So am I. We can walk together.” “I’d rather gag on a spoon.” He playfully pouted. “Why a spoon? I’m free.”

You sped up your pace and unfortunately, so did Minho. “Wait up babe.” You halted which caused him to crash into you. You turned around and pushed him back with your forefinger. “First of all, I am not your babe. Second of all, do you not have some girl to bury your dick in?” “No.” You rolled your eyes once again. “What’s wrong this time, too clingy? Ooh, no, is she kinkier than you. Oh, you finally found a girl kinkier.” He chuckled and backed you into a wall before putting his hand by your head.

“First, no. She was too bitchy. Second, the kinkier they are, the hotter. Something about you makes me think you’re a kinky bitch.” He moved his face closer to yours. “You come any closer and I’ll lick you.” “No you won’t,” he challenged. Minho moved closer and you licked his cheek. Immediately he backed away and wiped his face. “Did you just...lick me?” “Told you I would.” You left him standing there dumbfounded and kept walking. “44...45...46… Ah. 47!” You knocked on the door.

The door opened and a masculine body filled the doorway. “Put a shirt on, Changbin.” “It’s my apartment so no.” He took a bite of his apple and walked away. You closed the door behind you and laid on the couch. “Move your head.” “Why?” “So I can sit down.” You looked at Changbin and sighed before sitting up. “Your hair is messy.” “I just woke up before you got here.” Another knock sounded and a blur of blond raced through to the door. “I’LL GET IT!” He opened the door and you caught a glimpse of Minho.

“Look who made it before me.” “Shut up.” Jisung sat down beside you. “Looks like you’ll have to sit on someone’s lap, babe.” “Fuck you, Minho.” You got up and stomped your way to Chan’s room. Not even knocking, you opened the door and threw yourself on his bed. “What’s wrong?” “FUCKING, MINHO.” Your head was still buried in his pillows and you breathed in the scent of Chan’s shampoo. He laid on top of you and you felt the wetness of his hair. “You’re getting the back of my head wet.”

Using all of your strength, you rolled over pushing him off. “Your hair is still dry. Don’t complain.” Chan pushed himself up and dried his hair with his towel. Subconsciously, you had already grabbed his brush and waited for him to sit down. As soon as his head hit your lap, you were brushing through the knots and tangles that are laced in his hair. “So what are your plans today?” “Going to the bookstore to check out the cashier and get some books.” “Are you talking about Hyunjin?” You kept brushing and brushing despite his hair being untangled. “Yeah.” “You know that he’s Minho’s friend right?” You groaned and annoyance.

“Why is he friends with every cute guy at school?” Chan laughed. “Because cute guys stick together to fend off the girls.” “Well you suck at trying to fend off me.” He shook his head. “No we don’t, we just like you.” You laughed and imagined the looks on all the girls faces if they heard that. “You want to come with me?” “I have nothing better to do.” The two of you got up and headed out to the living room. Jisung was laughing at something Changbin had said and Minho was spaced out. “We’re leaving.” Jisung sprang up. “I want hugs!”

Chan started to give him a hug but he stopped him. “I meant her.” Chan’s face was hilarious. You bent down to hug Jisung. Then, surprising him, you hugged Changbin too. “What about me?” “What about you, Minho?” “I want a hug too.” You looked at Chan who gave you the “father” look. Mentally, you cursed Chan and hugged Minho. “Asshole.” With that, you turned and left. Chan shrugged and followed you to his car. The car came to life after a few tries of starting it. You turned on the radio and blasted the music.

After Chan’s terrible parking job due to a little old lady with a death wish, you threw open the door of the bookstore and took a deep breath. “Ahhhh. The smell of books.” Chan scrunched his nose at a foul smell. “Are you sure that it’s a good smell?” You laughed and turned around. “No, you are smelling the aftermath of Mrs.Jung’s perfume.” “It’s deadly.” The two of you turned to look at the books. “Ooh! That one looks interesting. That one too.” You continuously pointed at books that you wanted to read and ultimately decided on three of them. Happily, you took them up to the counter where Hyunjin was working.

“Just these three today?” “If I could, I’d buy one of everything.” Hyunjin smiled and scanned the books. You pulled out your wallet but he stopped you from opening it. “Someone else paid for it.” “Really? Who? I want to thank them.” He pointed at a table and you looked. Minho. Why? “Nope. I’m buying. I don’t want his money to pay for my things.” Hyunjin laughed. “What do I tell him?” “Nothing, just take his money and buy books for yourself.” He gave his signature full smile. Chan walked up and sighed. “Hey, Hyunjin.” “Hey, hyung.” “YOU DIDN’T SAY YOU KNEW HIM.” Chan threw his arm around you. “Like I said earlier, us cute guys stick together.”

“I’m going to kill you, Chan. Just wait.” You paid and told Chan that you’d be back. Angrily, you stomped your way over to Minho and grabbed his ear like a mother would. He cried out in pain. “Really? Paying for my books? How low can you get?” “I told him to pay for the books the next cute girl buys and I’ll pay him back. He’s got good taste might I add.” You were about to chew him out when he caught sight of a girl over your shoulder. “She’s back.” He genuinely looked worried. “Who?” “Hye-ji and her squad.”

“Why are you so worried about her?” “She won’t leave me alone if she finds out I’m single.” Hye-ji noticed Minho and strutted over. “Minho! Fancy seeing you here.” “Yeah.” “Are you single now?” The way she pouted and stuck out her lip was disgusting and clearly making Minho uncomfortable. “Come on, babe! Chan’s waiting on us. We’ll be late to practice.” You held out your hand and he took the hint. Minho grabbed your hand and stood up. “Sorry, Hye-ji. I am taken.” The two of you walked away hand in hand and you heard one of the girls say that you wouldn’t last long.

You held his hand until you got to the car. “You owe me.” “Your hand fits in mine like they were made for each other.” Harshly, you threw your books in the back. “If you don’t knock it off I’m going to ki-ss you.” The girls left and you sighed. “You’re going to kiss me?” “I’m going to kill you.” You got in Chan’s car and he gave you a confused look. The entire car ride back, you explained. You were still explaining when you got back to his apartment. “I mean, I didn’t like it but no one deserves that amount of fakeness in their lives.”

————————

The next day, you woke up to Minho’s alarm once again and instead of ignoring it, you walked over to his door and pounded on it. He opened the door with his bed head. One of his cats rubbed up against your leg. You bent down to pick it up. “Hey, Dori!” “You know my cats and their names?” Giving Dori kisses, you nodded. “You aren’t quiet and Jisung shows me your instagram all the time.” Minho smiled at you cooing over his cat. “I want to sleep in so shut your stupid alarm off.” “Don’t sing in the shower.” “I don- how can you hear me? I don’t sing my lungs out.” He laughed. “The walls are thin.”

After you admitted defeat, you went back to your apartment. There was no use in going back to sleep so you got dressed in a sundress adorned with sunflowers. To top it off, you put on your aviator sunglasses and converse. With nowhere specific to go, you closed your door and wandered the halls. You were pushed against the wall. “Hey pretty lady…wanna have some fun?” “No. Get off me.” You tried to get the random guy off of you. He held a knife to your throat and was about to kiss you when someone pulled him off of you. It was a pissed off Minho. Oddly, it was kind of hot to see him pissed off.

“Get off my girl.” “What are you going to do?” Minho responded with a punch that caused a sickening crack. The guy fell and held his nose that was broken. Minho wrapped his hand around your waist as you shook. “It’s okay.” He walked you outside and you calmed down. You two walked for a while without talking. All of a sudden, he stopped. “They’re coming. Kiss me!” You saw the girls and kissed him. He fell into the kiss and naturally rested his hands on your waist. The two of you were so into the make out that you didn’t realize the girls had passed until you broke apart for air. “This was a one time thing. Let’s head back.” He frowned but followed you back to the apartments.

Monday came around but luckily, you were on summer vacation. You made your way to Chan’s apartment and once again, Changbin opened the door shirtless. “I’m going to buy you a shirt for christmas.” “Thanks but I won’t wear it.” “I’ll duct tape it to your damn body.” He smiled. “You’re just jealous.” “As if.” You helped clean up the room for the sleepover. The boys started arriving and you got introduced to them. Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin. As soon as the pizza arrived, spin the bottle started. It was your turn to spin and it landed on Chan. You thanked the gods it wasn’t Minho and crawled over to where he was.

After the two minutes was up, you returned to your spot. You noticed Minho shifting a lot and realized he had a problem in his pants. A giggle slipped out of your lips. The boys looked at you. “Let’s play truth or dare.” They agreed and they started by asking you first. “Truth or dare?” “Minho, I choose dare.” He smirked. “ I dare you to sit on my lap, babe.” “Okay, babe,” you replied sarcastically. You sat in his lap and felt his problem. Silently, you whispered to him. “Did my make out with Chan get you excited?” “You know, I’d rather have that tongue working wonders somewhere else.” “In your dreams.”

You were getting uncomfortable so you shifted forgetting where you were sitting until two hands gripped your hips harshly. Biting your tongue to stay quiet, you slapped his hand. “Don’t move, babe. You’ll make it worse.” You smiled and shifted again. He hissed and grabbed your throat. “I will correct you in front of all the boys if you don’t knock it off.” “You are really bad at hiding how turned on you are,” you hissed. Minho’s grip tightened. “You are a brat.” To push him a little farther, you took his hand off your neck. “You don’t own me.” Without hesitating, you grabbed Changbin’s face and kissed him. He didn’t mind, instead he enjoyed watching Minho get rejected by a girl.

Minho glared at you. “What are you going to do? Fuck me sensless and then ditch me? That’s not how I play in the end.” You threw yourself on the couch because you didn’t feel like going home. There was a tension in the room. “But, if you want to play, let’s play.” You patted the couch. Minho stood up and sat down. When he was comfortable, you straddled his lap. “First one to touch the other has to do what the other says.” He agreed and you both put your hands by your sides. Oblivious to everyone else in the room, you two started a make out session. Using your famous strategy, you stopped and pulled away. Minho automatically grabbed your neck to kiss you again.

You pulled away and bent down to his ear. “You lose.” Saying nothing more, you got up and sat back down by Chan. “I’m tired.” It wasn’t long before you fell asleep. Minho picked you up and laid you on the couch. For a moment, you woke up and grabbed his hand. “Lay with me.” He complied and laid with you. You buried your face in his chest. “I’m willing to give up my ways if you’d be mine. I’ve had my eye on you since you moved in.” “Minho, you never asked me.” He smiled. “Do you want to go on a real date?” “Will you keep me for longer than a month?” He hummed a yes. “Then, yes.”

—————————————————————————

What do I write? I’ll never know.

#lee know #stray kids #kpop #stray kids oneshot #minho fluff #lee know fluff #lee know x reader

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jeontaeh · 3 years

Text

TWENTY FIVE²⁵

✫ ✬ ✭ ✬ ✫

Jungkook woke up on his bed, his body feeling cold, numb. Unable to move.

"T-Taehyung?" Jungkook let out, feeling a horrible nauseous state fill his sense. Jungkook tried lifting his body off the bed, and felt himself stuck.

The door to his bedroom opened, and Jungkook cried out in pain. "I'm fucking stuck."

"Haha is Stuck another name for Taehyung?"

"Jin this is not the time! Help me up-" Jungkook whimpered, and Jin sighed.

"Tae!" Jin called loudly, and Taehyung opened the door to walk into the room. He saw Jungkook lying like that and frowned instantly, rushing up to him. Jungkook looked at him, and Taehyung reached down on the bed.

Taehyung wrapped his arms around Jungkook slowly, and Jungkook instantly felt a warmth fill him up. "Cherry you're really cold,"

"Like soda." Jin commented, and Taehyung gave him a offhanded look, and then turned back to Jungkook.

Taehyung put his hand behind his back and helped him sit up. Jungkook placed his hands on Taehyung's arms, tucking his head in the crevice of Taehyung's neck. "Where am I?"

"The ship, where the fuck else would you be?"

"Jin, please," Taehyung grumbled, and Jin rolled his eyes. "Listen, Tinfoil. I'm the nurse here, and Jungkook keeps getting sick. "It's quite concerning, okay? So shut up and let me do my job."

"What 'job' exactly? You're just standing there making comments." Taehyung said, and Jin huffed.

"Well I'm not gonna help him! He only seems to get better if you help." Jin scoffed, and Jungkook looked at Jin.

"Jin I wanted to talk to Taehyung for a bit.. alone." Jungkook said, and Jin just turned around and left, not having to be told twice that the two were gonna do something weird.

"What's going on?" Jungkook asked. "I-I swear Jimin was here.. and- and then I started crying or something.. and then you came in... and suddenly I'm on my bed, awake." Jungkook said.

Taehyung gulped. "Well. T-that's how it be."

Jungkook frowned. "No. No that's not how it be. I keep fainting and stuff! And- and you-" Jungkook started, and then poked Taehyung in the chest. "You come in.. and suddenly I'm alright."

Jungkook looked at Taehyung in confusion. "Why is that? Plus, didn't we break up? Isn't it Jimin's birthday? Did I sleep all night? Am I going to die-"

"No." Taehyung said quickly, and then flopped onto the bed, grabbing Jungkook and wrapping his arms around him, spooning him. "Let's sleep."

"You didn't answer my questions.." Jungkook mumbled, feeling Taehyung rest his chin on Jungkook's shoulder. "Are- are we together?"

"We're not.. together together. We're just.. together."

"Why." Jungkook humphed, eyebrows furrowing angrily.

"Sshhh.. don't ask too many questions. Let's just sleep." Taehyung whispered, and then kissed Jungkook's cheek softly. Jungkook sighed.

"Okayy.. I am really tired. Nothing could wake me up. Absolutely nothing. Not even if we're hurling towards an unknown alien planet right now because we ran out of fuel-"

Their room door burst open. "Taehyung! Jungkook! We're hurling towards an unknown alien planet right now because we ran out of fuel!" Jimin cried, and Taehyung and Jungkook sat up.

"What?!" Both let out at once, and Jimin nodded hurriedly and then rushed off towards the control room. Jungkook and Taehyung both got up and followed him out, walking to the control room quickly. The moment they walked in, it was utter chaos.

Yoongi was typing away rapidly at a computer, Hoseok was not there- presumably in the engineering room, helping out. Jin was helping at the control, Jimin was pressing buttons on a holographic map, and Namjoon was sitting on the captain's chair, giving orders and managing the movement.

Taehyung and Jungkook instantly rushed to the control table, both getting into work. Taehyung began working two things at once, the buttons to control the engines and the board to control the pull towards the planet. Jungkook looked, and through the window saw them falling right towards the planet.

Hoseok rushed into the control room. "Not a drop of fuel left. Engines are running low. We need to go slow or else we'll crash land on that planet and this ship will explode-" Hoseok snapped, and Namjoon gave him a look.

"We can't go slow." Namjoon grumbled. "We don't have enough fuel, we'll end up crash landing either way."

"What do we do?" Jungkook asked nervously, and Namjoon took a deep breath.

"Someone needs to fly the ship and ensure it lands normally. It's gonna take a lot of force and attention," Namjoon said, and everyone looked at him cautiously.

"Will- will you do it?" Jin asked.

"He can't even drive a car." Jimin whispered, and Yoongi glared at him.

Suddenly, the alarms on the side of the control room started blaring, whole room turning red for fractions of seconds, loud sound blaring through the room. Everyone looked nervous, trying to get the stuff in check, sitting down on their seats hastily.

"Fuck it, I'll do it." Taehyung grumbled, and Jungkook looked at him wide eyed.

"Tae-" Jungkook started, and Taehyung rushed to sit right in the middle of the panel, and then grabbed the steering.

They entered the orange planet, and began hurling right through the sky, zooming down gold clouds and into the air. They were facing the ground which was thousands of feet below, falling. The ship was falling.

"Taehyung-" Jungkook let out in fear, and saw a vein grow on the side of Taehyung's neck, eyebrows furrow in concentration, sweat droplets reaching his forehead.

The ship kept falling down and down, gaining speed, and the sides of the ship getting hotter, clearly catching on fire. "Taehyung!" Namjoon shouted in alert, and everyone turned to see with widened fearful eyes.

Everyone saw the ground approaching, feared them crash landing, and- well, began screaming. Jungkook closed his eyes tight, the ground and their inevitable crash going closer and closer and closer and-

Taehyung pulled on the steering wheel, hands coiled around them tight, turning it in a rush and then pushing it down. And then- the ship stopped.

Stopped mid air, inches above the ground.

Everyone froze for a few seconds, and then felt the ship plop onto the ground from where it was a meter above the ground.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief, falling onto the floor or to their seats. Jungkook looked at Taehyung, who was breathing heavily. The silver haired boy let go of the steering wheel, looking shocked and relieved by what he did. Jungkook grabbed Taehyung and hugged him really tightly, breathing staggered.

"Oh my god- that was- that was so fucking scary, Taehyung. I thought I was going to die," Jungkook stammered, and Taehyung hugged him back, squeezing his waist.

"Won't let you die now, Kookie." Taehyung whispered, and the rest of the boys walked up to them.

"Tae that was awesome!!" Jimin said excitedly.

"Very risky, but yeah, it was fucking awesome." Namjoon said, and Taehyung grinned at them.

"Thanks! I nearly shat myself. That was terrifying." Taehyung said, and then Hoseok chuckled.

"That's so great. But if we don't get out the ship right now it might explode."

Everyone ran out of the ship.

They rushed down the steps of the ship onto the maroon-ish grounds. They walked onto it, and instantly heard some kind of bubbling sound, the whole planet had some kind of a black crust atop the grounds, no trees nearby, just hills of the same black. The skies were orange, and the sun seemed red.

"Guys.. the ground. This- this crust. It kinda looks like..." Yoongi started, a little fearfully.

"Volcano crust."

"The top of an oreo."

All the boys looked at Jungkook, who blushed at everyone looking at him. "I-it kind of looks like the top of an oreo.."

"Anyways, I think.. this entire planet is a volcano or something. Like underneath this ground is the volcano.. and those random holes in the middle everywhere-" Namjoon said, pointing. "-are the opening of the volcanoes." Namjoon said, stepping carefully on the ground which felt like there was a liquid flowing beneath it.

"That is terrifying, thanks." Jin said, and Namjoon snickered.

"What do we do, guys? There's no fuel, and no life form on his planet. We're potentially stuck here for, like, ever." Hoseok said, looking worried and a little scared.

"Wig! It's our private planet ayy~" Jin said, and high-fived Jungkook.

"No, Jimin. No wig. This is bad. Really bad. We can't contact anyone. We need to figure this out by tonight. Because I don't know how long we can be stuck on this planet." Namjoon said, and Taehyung sighed.

"I know.. I'm homesick. I'm tired of this stupid space thing. I mean, I don't mind the space part of it. I think it's the possibility of us wiping off the pane of existence never to be found again that scares me." Taehyung said.

"Mood." Jimin responded. Namjoon ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

"Okay, I can't think of anything. Everyone, throw out ideas." Namjoon said.

Jungkook gasped. "Maybe we can set up some kind of signal to-"

"Everyone except you." Yoongi said, and Jungkook paused for a second, but the others continued.

"I think it's best if we find a replacement for that metal found on that other planet. We might find something similar here, right?" Jin said, and everyone nodded.

"Yeah. So I think it'll be best if we explore a bit. We have enough food and water to last us.. um... 18 years, I think." Hoseok said.

"That's really long I don't think we'll be here for that much time." Jimin snickered, and Namjoon looked at him.

"Well, I mean, calculating how far we are from our planet.. and how much time we've spent here.. it's easy to say a year or two has passed back home."

"What?!" Everyone let out, and Namjoon nodded. "Yeah. Didn't I tell you guys? Time passes really fast in space. So if we spend another week or so in space, it'll be three years back home. Three years that our family and friends and teachers have lived without us.. probably worried sick... wondering where we are... never to come back home.." Namjoon trailed.

"That's the worst thing anyone has ever said and is also giving me an existential crisis, let's move on." Yoongi decided, and everyone nodded.

"I was actually thinking.. it'd be cool if we-" Jungkook started, and Namjoon patted Jungkook's back gently.

"Sshh," Namjoon said, and Jungkook looked at him, confused. "Just.. say it a little later, okay? Let us just discuss the important stuff first." Namjoon said with a small smile.

Jungkook's breath hitched, and he nodded quickly.

"Let's set up some kind of a house for us to reside in for now." Taehyung said, and Jimin looked at him.

"Do we have to build it?" Jimin asked, and Hoseok gasped.

"No! We don't have to! found this cool block building kinda thing made by SpaceEx! It's really fun, we can make a big house from it. Can we use it Namjoon?" Hoseok asked.

"Sure." Namjoon said, and Hoseok grinned, and Jin clapped his hands together. "That sounds like fun! Let's make a castle!"

"And then sell it to get a better house." Yoongi said.

"No." Jimin said, and Jungkook raised his hand.

Everyone looked at Jungkook. "Why're you raising your hand?" Taehyung asked, and Jungkook looked at them with big eyes.

"I wanna say something." Jungkook said softly, and Taehyung almost cooed right there, but then Jin nodded at Jungkook.

"I think it'll be good if we set up a house on this flat land here." Jungkook said, pointing at the area. "And- and maybe we could set up some kind of signal to send to other planets-"

Taehyung let out a small laugh. It sounded quite endeared, and Jungkook turned and saw all of them chuckling a bit, which confused him. "Cherry, this land is not flat at all. It's rocky, and has flaming molten lava underneath it." Taehyung said with a fond laugh, not mean spirited.

Jungkook blushed a bit, and then nodded, looking away. "S-sorry." He mumbled, and the boys moved on.

"Okay so let's make a house on that hill area so we're further away from this magma land. Who wants to work on the house, and who wants to help me inside the ship?"

"Taehyung, Jimin and I can work on the house. Yoongi, Jin, and you can work inside the ship." Hoseok said to Namjoon, and Taehyung and Jimin nodded excitedly.

"What about me?" Jungkook asked, raising his hand again.

"Well you're not feeling well, cherry. I think it's best if you rest for a little." Jin said softly, and Jungkook's shoulders fell.

"I'm fine, I promise. I wanna help them-" Jungkook said, and then rushed toward Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, who were walking towards the hill now.

"Guys!" Jungkook called out, and the boys stopped and looked at him. "I wanna help!" Jungkook ran up to them, and as he reached them, he tripped over a little rock and fell to the floor.

Jungkook's palms went against the floor, and the rough ground ripped through the cloth covering his knee, a cut forming there.

Jungkook hissed in pain, and Taehyung walked up to Jungkook. "Oh no, Kook, you're bleeding." Taehyung said softly, kneeling down.

Jungkook covered his knee with his hand. "I-it's okay. I'm fine. I wanna help you guys-"

"Jungkook!" Jin snapped, and Jungkook looked at him wearily. "I told you to go and rest, and this is why! Look, you hurt yourself again. Is it so hard for you to just listen sometimes?" Jin said angrily, and Jungkook looked down.

"B-but-" Jungkook started, and Jin grabbed his hand, pulling him to stand up, and then nudging him to walk towards the ship. "No but's. You're too accident prone. I look away for one goddamn second and you've broken both ankles." Jin ranted.

Jungkook turned while Jin was talking angrily and fast to look at Taehyung, who was looking at him with worry. Jungkook got pulled into the ship, and sighed.

"I-I wanted to help." Jungkook said softly.

"You can help, Kookie." Jin said, and Jungkook looked at him. He got dragged till his bedroom, and then got pushed in lightly. "You can help by staying out of it."

Jungkook frowned. Jin closed the door, and Jungkook groaned and turned around to walk to the other side of the room, the windows. He sat down on the chair outside the windows and looked outside with big eyes.

He saw Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok outside, all laughing while creating some walls or whatever. Jungkook saw Taehyung clutching his stomach to laugh really hard and felt a smile reach his lips.

His heart began beating really fast, and felt this weird sensation in his stomach and heart and mind. This.. attraction.. this deep emotive feeling he'd never felt for anyone before. Something which seemed an awful lot like... love.

The moment he thought of that, Jungkook felt his knee healing on its own. He gasped, seeing the cut close down and the blood fade away. What??

It didn't made any sense, but Jungkook decided he should just lie down like Jin said. He has been getting hurt a lot. Which is weird, because he never got hurt this much before.

He's only really been getting hurt since....he sucked Taehyung's dick that one time long ago. Hm. Weird.

✫ ✬ ✭ ✬ ✫

https://jeontaeh.tumblr.com/post/647228673036058624/twenty-six%C2%B2%E2%81%B6

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xxx-cat-xxx · 5 years

Text

Vacation

This is my very fluffy @marveltrumpshate fic for @twentyghosts, whose wonderful stories made me fall in love with Science Bros. I hope you like it.

Many thanks to @whumphoarder and @sallyidss for beta reading!

___________

“This is ridiculous,” Tony moans, letting himself sink down on his backside to slide down a steep passage of the hill, his injured foot carefully stretched out in front of him. “For the record, this is the last time you get to plan our vacation.”

“You know, this is easily my fifth hiking trip in the Himalayas and the first time someone managed to get injured by tripping over their own feet on a perfectly straight road,” counters Bruce.

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in...” Tony mutters, then winces when his ankle bounces on a stone and pain shoots up his leg.

“Hey.” Bruce’s expression sobers. “You sure you don’t want me to call for medevac?”

“I am not calling for medevac because I sprained my ankle on a vacation,” Tony retorts, already picturing the field day Barton would have upon hearing about it. Then seeing as Bruce is about to protest, adds, “And no, Bruce, it’s not broken. I think by now I should know what a broken bone feels like.” He uses a nearby branch to lever himself back upright and grits his teeth when he puts weight on his right foot. “Besides, we’re almost back—I think I can see the village down there.”

That was a bit optimistic. By the time they reach the village where they stayed the previous night, it’s already late evening and the sun has long since set. Tony is glad for his arc technology-powered flashlight that makes it possible for them to find a path in the dark forest covering the mountains.

They slowly make their way back through the village road—Tony’s arm slung around Bruce’s shoulders and his lips pressed tightly together, politely declining any offers of help from the few villagers that are still awake—before finally reaching their rental car.

Tony leans heavily against the driver’s side, glad to take the weight off his foot for a bit. He’s exhausted and feeling kind of shaky, which, he realises after hearing a loud growl from his stomach, might be because the last thing he ate was breakfast at the homestay that morning. It was only supposed to be a short hike up the mountain; they’d planned to leave for the city before dark after eating in the village, but then Tony’s foot had thwarted their plans.

Tony fumbles for the car keys in his pocket, then opens the door and lets himself fall inside with a groan. “Okay, let’s go,” he announces. “I hope the restaurants will still be open by the time we arrive—I’m fucking starving.” Then he realises that Bruce hasn’t made a move to get into the vehicle.

“Brucie?” In the rearview mirror, he sees his partner take their suitcase out of the trunk. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Bruce says in the tone of someone talking to a very stubborn child.

“I’m driving us back.”

Bruce scoffs. “No, not with that foot of yours, you’re not. How are you gonna work the pedals?”

“Fine,” Tony says in the most provocative tone he can muster, “then you drive us back.”

Bruce rolls his eyes. “You know I don’t drive on these mountain roads, Tony. Especially not at night.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s your choice, darling.”

“This is not a choice at all!” Bruce says in frustration. “Don’t be ridiculous. Neither of us can drive tonight. You can barely walk.”

“You’re the one being ridiculous,” Tony declares. “If you’re not driving, then I am. This is nothing compared to what I’ve worked through on missions.”

“But this is not a mission.” Bruce bends down to the window, a softer expression on his face now. “Come on, Tony, there’s no need for you to prove anything to anyone. Let’s just spend another night at the homestay. We’ll ice your ankle and see how it’s looking tomorrow morning. I’d feel terrible making you drive for three hours while being in pain like this.”

Tony’s pride tells him (in Howard’s voice, of course) to just suck it up and drive anyway. But then his eyes meet Bruce’s warm ones and he feels his resistance melt. “Fine, whatever,” he agrees. “But I hope we can get a decent dinner there...”

When they reach the homestay, the lights are already out, and Tony’s hope for dinner extinguishes with them.

“Didn’t you want to go back to the city?” their host’s grown-up daughter, Radhika, asks them when she opens the door. She is dressed in a colourful long nightshirt and a warm shawl, her usually braided black hair falling over her shoulder.

“Yeah, we had a small…incident,” Bruce replies. He gestures to Tony’s foot, which is held awkwardly out in front of him.

“Oh, I see,” Radhika replies with a frown, then turns to shout over her shoulder, “Mata!”

Moments later, her mother—an elderly woman wearing the same combination of clothes—appears in the doorway and ushers them inside. She, Bruce, and Radhika start a conversation in Hindi, with Bruce evidently explaining their situation.

“She says her older daughter is a doctor in the hospital down in the city—it’s about four or five hours from here if we take a bus that leaves at six in the morning,” Bruce translates to Tony. “We can stay here overnight, but the room we had yesterday is already taken by other guests. They are offering us their spare room.”

“Fantastic...” Tony grumbles, grimacing both at the prospect of having to get up before sunrise and the word “spare room”, but it’s not like they have many other options. “Yeah, go ahead.”

Bruce nods and turns back to their hosts. Tony can’t understand the words, but he definitely makes out some English numbers in between.

“Bruce, are you seriously haggling right now?” he interrupts. “Maybe you’ve forgotten in the last few hours, but I am an actual billionaire.”

“Sorry, sorry, force of habit…” Bruce mutters, rubbing a hand over his brow. A few sentences later they seemed to have agreed on a price and Radhika takes the suitcase from Bruce’s hand to bring it to the spare room.

“Are you hungry?” the elder woman asks in heavily-accented English.

“Starving,” Tony agrees immediately.

“Tony!” Bruce scolds. “They’ve already had their dinner—they were about to go to sleep.”

He says something in Hindi to their host and another discussion ensues, which Bruce apparently loses.

“Great, now she’s staying up later to cook for us.” Bruce sighs, visibly uncomfortable.

Tony knows that Bruce doesn’t like anyone working for him, but Tony’s stomach is so empty that, combined with the pain in his foot, he feels almost nauseous. He’s sure that Bruce must be hungry as well. “We’ll give them a big tip, okay?”

Bruce bites his lip and nods.

Twenty minutes later, Tony is sitting on a plastic chair next to the freshly-lit fire in the middle of the family’s courtyard, His foot is resting on a pillow on a small stool with an ice pack (made from actual ice, thanks to the Himalayas) wrapped around the ankle. Now that the hiking boot has come off, it’s visibly swollen and pulsing in time with his heartbeat, and although Tony hasn’t admitted it to Bruce, he thinks that maybe he’ll have to correct his earlier statement about being sure that it’s not broken. According to Bruce, nothing can be done except for keeping it still and iced until they can get an x-ray done at the hospital tomorrow.

“Isn’t Indian food supposed to be spicy?” Tony mutters under his breath, slashing his spoon around in something that looks suspiciously like algae soup, except that it can’t be algae, because, well, Himalayas. “And tasty?”

Bruce frowns and gestures for him to keep his voice down. “I told you before, different regions have different dishes. India’s more of a continent than a country—things here are different than in Delhi or Mumbai. There is actually no such thing as Indian food, you know.”

“Still, I could have done with spicy now…” Tony grumbles. “This tastes like the stuff Steve makes when he gets nostalgic about the 40s.”

Bruce gestures him to be quiet and this time Tony obeys. He eats a bit more, and, despite the rather bland taste, feels his bad mood receding more the fuller his stomach gets. After dinner, Radhika brings them chai—for which Bruce thanks her profusely—and then settles down next to them, followed soon by her mother.

India, in Tony’s head, has always been a synonym for poverty, which is a bit weird because compared to Tony, almost everyone on the planet is poor. But as Bruce has been slowly showing him since their arrival, there is no one such thing as poverty—its appearance varies from city to village. Poverty can mean anything from not being able to afford a place to stay or sturdy shoes to wear, to living in a large farmhouse but going hungry because the crops were ruined by the last thunderstorm, to having a comfortable life but still being unable to afford a life-saving surgery due to lack of health insurance (which, as Bruce added, is not actually very different from the US).

Tony has seen his fair share of India’s high society—which, to be frank, is not much different from US high society (except for prettier, more colourful clothing and better food). He’s always imagined the rest of the country outside of luxurious hotels and glamourous wedding celebrations to be a mixture of the slums he’s seen from his car window while driving through the city and international aid commercials with dirty children begging for someone to feed them.

While all these realities certainly exist somewhere in India, he hasn’t really ever thought of everyone living in between both of the extremes—people like Radhika and her family, who don’t seem to fit into any of the stereotypes shown on CNN. He knows that one of the reasons Bruce took him on this low-budget holiday was to show him some of those realities, and Tony has to admit that he now has a much better idea about why Bruce sometimes misses the country so much—chai definitely being one of them, he thinks while watching his partner blow into the steam curling up from his cup.

They are sitting quietly, sipping their tea. Tony notices a black cat watching them from the shadow of the other side of the patio. He stretches out his hand and idly wiggles his fingers to make it come closer, but the cat just keeps on sitting, its gaze now slightly judgemental.

“Oh, she doesn’t like to cuddle,” Radhika comments. “But she knows everything that’s going on in the village, I tell you. She’s a spy.”

“Natasha,” Tony states, turning towards Bruce, who snickers into his chai. “We found Natasha’s Indian counterpart.”

“I wonder how the cat’s interrogation techniques compare,” muses Bruce.

“Let’s not find out,” replies Tony. “I’ve already got one injured joint, thank you.”

Radhika giggles at that.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asks, slightly irritated.

“It’s just…” she hesitates, visibly trying to contain a grin. “You are Iron Man. I mean, you defeated aliens and supervillains and all that…and then you sprain your ankle during a hiking trip.”

“Very funny,” Tony huffs. The corners of Bruce’s lips twitch.

“So if we take the bus in the morning, what about the car?” he changes the topic, suddenly realising the flaw in their plan. He gestures at his foot, then at Bruce. “You won’t let me drive, you won’t drive on your own—how are we supposed to get it back to the rental company?”

Radhika looks at her mother and says something. The woman shrugs and then gives one of those sideways head shakes Tony has seen Bruce do when he’s getting interrupted deep in his thoughts and forgets he’s not in Kolkata anymore—it means yes, he’s learned. “I can drive the car,” Radhika offers.

Tony looks at her critically. “No offence, but I was kinda planning to get back to New York in one piece.”

“Most people born in the village know the mountain roads by heart,” she says, “My sister visits us once a month and drives all the way with her tata, and sometimes I drive her back when I go to the city. I’ll drive the route regularly once I start my engineering college next year. With your fancy car it will be even easier.”

“Then we wouldn’t have to get up at five…” Bruce thinks aloud with a side glance at Tony.

“Well, that’s a compelling argument,” Tony agrees with a sigh. “Fine, kid, just try not to kill us.” He gets an angry look from Bruce for this.

Radhika smiles. Her mother collects the now empty cups and disappears towards the kitchen, shaking her head at Bruce’s offer to help her.

Radhika disappears for a few minutes and returns with a deck of cards. “Do you know Court Piece?”

They spend the next hour playing cards with Radhika, her mother, and eventually her father, who joins after being woken up by their laughter. Her mother turns out to be a cunning player, and together with Tony, their team wins the majority of rounds. Eventually, the family turns in, leaving Bruce, Tony, and Natasha-The-Cat at the smoldering campfire.

“The sky is so clear in the mountains,” Bruce states, leaning back in his plastic chair and gazing upwards. “You can see the Milky Way.”

Tony nods, looking straight ahead. Ever since the Battle of New York, stargazing isn’t really on the list of his favourite activities anymore—but then, seeing Bruce’s fascination, he takes a deep breath and holds onto his partner’s jacket a bit to ground himself before turning his head upwards. The Milky Way is clearly visible, and he has to admit, breathtakingly beautiful.

They stay out for a while longer until the fire dies down and the mountain cold starts to seep through their layers of high-quality hiking clothes and into their bones. The toes of Tony’s bad foot have gone from painful to numb and they decide to turn in before they start to fall off. Bruce helps Tony to their spare room, Tony teasingly kissing his neck and earlobe while leaning on him.

Radhika had told them that she put an electric heater in their room, but when they enter, they find it colder than outside, the heater dead on the ground. Bruce’s attempt to switch it on doesn’t yield any results.

“We can’t wake them up again,” Bruce says with a look at Tony, visibly steeling himself for an argument. “It’s the middle of the night and they already stayed up so long to cook for us.”

“What are you saying, Bruce? You’re travelling with your own personal on-call mechanic.” Tony grunts, already lowering himself down to the ground. “Let me take care of this baby.”

The device, however, proves to be as stubborn as the engineer trying to fix it. Fifteen minutes later, Tony is literally shaking and by now it’s not just his toes he can’t feel anymore, but also his fingers.

“I would need a soldering iron for this,” he complains. “The fuse is blown and it’s impossible to reconnect the wires without it.”

“Shh...” Bruce lays a warm palm over his lips and hugs Tony from behind. His body heat is wonderful—Tony feels himself melting into his partner. “Come to bed,” Bruce admonishes.

“Well, that’s a sentence I love to hear,” Tony replies with a lascivious grin. Stretching his arm behind himself and letting his fingers run down Bruce’s neck, Tony finds himself suddenly not having any issue leaving the device alone.

However, having sex turns out to be harder than it reasonably should.

The blanket is warm, but it seems to be filled with living geese instead of feathers since it weighs approximately 20 pounds. After wiggling his head free to stop the threatening feeling of suffocation, Tony manages to actually enjoy Bruce’s teasing and reciprocate appropriately. They have worked their way out of their shirts and Bruce is in the process of removing their pants when he jostles Tony’s foot and the engineer can’t suppress a yelp of pain.

“I’m sorry!” Bruce exclaims, “I’m so sorry, Tony, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Tony grunts, angry at himself for letting it slip. “Just, get on with it.”

Bruce frees himself from his half-lying position on Tony and almost topples down from the bed. Tony pulls him back in, biting his lip when his injured foot acts up again, but then concentrates on the arguably very distracting other things he’s got to do. After another five intense minutes of making out, Bruce pauses in the middle of a kiss.

“What?” Tony moans, his teeth impatiently reaching for his partner’s lower lip.

“Just remembered that the condoms are at the bottom of the suitcase,” Bruce mumbles.

“For god’s sake,” Tony curses. “It’s fine, I’ll go get them.”

“No, stay there, you’re not supposed to put weight on your foot…” Bruce extricates himself from both his partner’s embrace and the blanket before Tony can stop him.

Tony watches his boyfriend tiptoe over the ice-cold floor towards the suitcases, goosebumps forming all over his body, and start rummaging around. Then he notices the cursed cat has been sitting right next to their bags since god-knows-when, watching their mostly-naked forms with slitted eyes and definitely judging them now.

“I am s-so sure that I packed them back in after w-we used them in that hotel in D-Delhi…” Bruce sighs, rummaging through their belongings.

“God, Bruce, get back in here—I can hear your teeth chattering…” Tony sighs.

Bruce looks up with a guilty expression and definitely blue lips. “I don’t even know if I can do anything with the cat watching us,” he admits.

Tony opens the blankets half an inch in what is supposed to be an inviting gesture and his partner crawls back in, pressing himself against Tony as his whole body shakes.

“I can still try to do so-something nice for you with my h-hands,” Bruce whispers, “just l-let me warm up a little.”

“Sure, Bruciebear…” Tony teases, his voice the kind of sugarcoated that he’d never thought he’d use in any way except sarcasm. He feels a little saccharine though as he lies there, holding tightly onto Bruce’s soft body somewhere in the middle of the cold mountains.

Bruce’s shivering stops after a bit and a few minutes later, his breaths even out. Tony knows he won’t be able to sleep—the pounding in his injured foot is harder to ignore now that there is no distraction, and he’s not sleepy at all. It’s not that Tony doesn’t get tired; it’s just that the times he is and the times he is lying in an actual bed rarely ever coincide.

As he lies in the darkness listening to Bruce’s quiet snores, it occurs to him that he hasn’t checked his emails once since they left Delhi. Bruce would probably count this as a win in his plan to take Tony on a different kind of holiday and get his mind off SI-related projects and Iron Man. Tony briefly considers taking out his tablet and catching up with work, but then decides against it. It’s mostly because the thought of getting out of the blanket is not at all appealing, but also because he realises it’s been a while since Bruce slept like that in his arms and holding him feels... well, not bad.

Tony’s frequent nightmares always make themselves known—he will squirm and shift in his sleep, sometimes mumble or even moan when they get really bad—and if Bruce is around, he always wakes him up before it comes to that point. Bruce, on the other hand, dreams absolutely silently. It’s only when he takes in a short, sharp breath and stiffens in Tony’s embrace that he realises his partner is awake.

“You okay, Big Green?” Tony asks softly.

“Hmm,” Bruce mumbles, not very convincingly. He takes a few moments to ground himself, shift around and calm his now quick and shallow breaths, before his eyes settle on Tony. “You know, I always say I liked my time in Kolkata,” he says. “And I did. But I was still on the run, and it was never… never safe, you know? I always felt like I might have to leave any day. Sometimes it’s just hard to shake that feeling.”

"Well, this time you get to stay right here," Tony says, reaching for his partner’s hand under the blanket and squeezing it tight. "And thank god for that because we're not fleeing anywhere fast on this ankle," he adds with a huff of humour.

"Is it bad?" Bruce sounds concerned again—the exact opposite of what Tony was going for. "Do you need some more ice?"

"Nah," Tony dismisses with a flap of his hand. "I'll just stick it out of the blanket and let that famous Indian-Arctic air take care of it."

Bruce finally gives a short laugh at that and starts to settle down again before stopping suddenly. "We've got company," he observes.

“What?” Tony’s eyes dart to the door.

Bruce motions his head to the foot of the bed, where that damn Natasha-Cat has curled into a ball, a foot’s distance from Tony’s toes. “I guess that’s a compliment?” Bruce ventures. “She’s watching over us.”

“Or maybe she’s making sure that we don’t go anywhere else before she and her feline associates can kill us in the morning,” Tony retorts. “Cats are unpredictable.”

“I think you’re thinking of Nats, not cats,” Bruce says, curling back up under the blanket and shifting closer to Tony.

“Telling her you said that,” Tony mutters.

“Just go to sleep, Tony…”

The morning comes with rays of sunlight creeping through the gap under the door and the dusty window. Tony did get bored in the night after all and, after a couple of fruitless attempts to train Natasha to bring over his bag, he crept out of the bed himself to gather his StarkPad. Now the cat is sitting on the window pane above the bed, intently watching the light reflections on his screen.

Bruce wakes up when Radhika knocks on the door to bring them two cups of steaming chai and biscuits.

“Did you sleep at all after my nightmare?” he asks after thanking her and setting the tray on the bed.

“I was watching over you,” Tony replies cheesily. “Well, that and saving our Nigerian subsidiary from a diplomatic crisis.” Tony takes the cup of tea and carefully sits fully up against the headboard.

“How’s your foot?”

Tony grimaces. “Trying to win the competition for the world's largest eggplant.”

The ankle is swollen even more than the previous day and now a mottled green and blue colour. Bruce prods a few places and then decides that driving is not an option and getting to the hospital is the priority.

After having breakfast and packing (under Natasha’s watchful gaze), Tony thanks the family for their hospitality and leaves a generous tip before getting into the car.

Bruce sits on the passenger seat next to Radhika and Tony positions himself sideways on the backseat, the injured ankle stretched out. It quickly becomes evident that Radhika wasn’t exaggerating about her driving skills. She makes her way down the steep mountain safely, and admittedly, takes the sudden sharp turns much smoother than Tony did on their way up.

Radhika and Bruce start talking about Arundhati Roy’s newest book and then get into an argument about whether one should give money to beggars, only half of which is led in English. Tony feels himself zone out, tiredness finally taking over. He lets his head rest back against the window and watches the mountains slowly give way to hills as they get closer to the city.

Half asleep already, he thinks that despite everything, maybe he will let Bruce choose their next vacation after all.

____________

All my fics

#science bros #hurt tony #vacation #fanfic #tony stark #bruce banner #india #fuck caa #fuck ncr #which has nothing to do with the fic #but needs to be said

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the-cookie-of-doom · 4 years

Text

Fever Dream

November was a cold month in Northern California, and one of Stiles' favorites. The Halloween sugar rush was wearing off and the holidays weren't yet in full swing, but the Christmas spirit was just starting to color the air. Pine cones and spices scented the air everywhere he went. And Mitch's cabin had a fireplace, perfect for curling up in front of to snuggle and listen to the rain. It was bliss.

"Breakfast is ready," Mitch called from the kitchen. Stiles joined him and was met with a mouthwatering stack of cinnamon blueberry pancakes.

"Yum." His favorite.

"Glad you approve." Mitch slid the last pancake onto a plate to cool off and turned off the burner. Beside the stove the crockpot was bubbling away, a truly obscene amount of meat cooking down to be made into stew for dinner. Mitch may still be a wild mountain man at heart, but Stiles did manage to break him of his tendency towards raw meat.

Stiles sidled up to Mitch and teased, "You're trying to fatten me up, aren't you?" Not that he wasn't fond of all the tasty, rich meals Mitch had been cooking this week, but even Stiles could see there was a change in his mate. He just couldn't quite figure out what it was, yet; he was probably nesting. Mitch just rolled his eyes.

"Well…." He pulled Stiles close, sliding his hands under his shirt to rest them on Stiles' narrow waist. He'd not yet fully recovered from his time in the woods, but he wasn't as starved and frail as he was when the park rangers found him. "You are kinda skinny, still."

"I'm lean, you beast!" Stiles laughed, batting at Mitch's chest. "And you know you still wanna take a bite out of this."

"Mhmm, always," Mitch agreed. Stiles swallowed thickly, his heart beating faster at the raw honesty in Mitch's voice, the desire in his dark eyes. Mitch smirked because he could hear every fluttering pulse. "Eat your breakfast."

Stiles slipped away to pour himself a glass of milk—and cool himself off before he jumped Mitch right at the dining table and those delicious pancakes go to waste, a guy had to have some standards—and didn't miss the way Mitch slyly added another pancake onto Stiles' plate.

***

Mitch always ran hot, but tonight his blood was molten. He barely heard half the things Stiles said to him, too caught up watching his lips move and imagining the things he wanted to do to his pretty mouth. At least try to be decent, Mitch told himself, fully aware that they weren't alone. He reluctantly tore his eyes away when Stiles said something to his father, going to get himself a glass of water and pushing open the kitchen window for fresh air. The small cabin was getting to be suffocating, stifling.

Stiles followed after a few minutes later when he didn't return, sliding up behind him and wrapping his arms around Mitch's waist.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." Mitch turned in Stiles' arms and pulled the omega flush against his chest, ducking down to give him a burning kiss. A small taste of what he really wanted. "I love you," he sighed, nuzzling Stiles' check affectionately.

"I love you, too." Stiles tipped his head back with a soft moan when Mitch started mouthing at his neck, worrying a tender spot with his teeth. Stiles tangled his hands in Mitch's wild hair. "Whats gotten into you tonight?"

Mitch didn't now. He just wanted Stiles. "You should ask your dad to leave. Right now."

"Y-yeah-ahhh." Stiles bit his lip, thinking that oh god, Mitch was actually going to have him right here, right now, on the damn kitchen table if Stiles let him. The thought was more tempting that it had any right to be, especially with Mitch kissing at his neck like that… "Okay! Okay, that's enough, snap out of it."

Mitch growled a little when Stiles pushed him away—when had Mitch gotten him pinned against the counter?—stopping Mitch from unbuttoning his shirt any further. Stiles hastily redid the buttons, not caring of they were done up correctly or not. One of them needed to be levelheaded here. Or at least pretend to.

"I'm… going to be right back." Stiles hesitated, taking a second to just look at Mitch. He was more beast than man, reminding Stiles of that feral creature that fucked him through his heat in a filthy cave all those months ago, rutting with him amongst the furs and leaves. Seeing the wolf so close to the surface again did things to him. The way Mitch watched him made him feel like prey, made Stiles hesitant to turn his back on him. "Uh, don't go anywhere." It pained him to leave, but the sooner he could get rid of his dad, the sooner mitch could ravish him anywhere and anyway he pleased.

John was not impressed when Stiles skated into the living room on socked feet, his shirt buttons askew and a red mark already blooming on his neck."

"I am so sorry, but you need to go, dad," Stiles rushed, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed. "We've, uh, got a thing. An urgent thing. Really needs to be taken care of like right now."

"Uh-huh." John gave Stiles a serious side eye, which Stiles returned with his own lethal puppy eyes.

"Please don't cockblock me," he said bluntly. "I'll come over tomorrow, we'll do lunch," Stiles had the feeling he would need to take the morning to recover once Mitch was done with him, "I promise. But you have to leave now, or you're gonna see some things that neither of is want you to see."

"Okay, fine, I'm going. Jesus."

"Thanks dad, by, love you!" Stiles ushered his father out the door and didn't even wait for him to get to his far before rushing back to the kitchen. Mitch had his hands clenched tight around the edge of the counter like it was the only thing holding him back.

Now that Stiles was back that restraint was unnecessary, and Mitch didn't waste any time before he was on Stiles, picking him up by his thighs and laying him out on the table.

"Oh my god, we're actually doing this," Stiles gasped. Fuck, he's always wanted to try this. He could never have his dad over for a meal ever again; he would never be able to think of anything but this.

Stiles was getting distracted and Mitch could tell. Soon enough he made sure Stiles wouldn't be able to think at all.

***

Stiles woke up in the early morning achy and sore, on a pile of soft blankets in front of the fireplace. The fire was out but Mitch was curled up behind him, keeping him warm. Stiles grinned remembering last night; Mitch could go for hours at the best of time, but it had never been quite like that in the months they've been together.

His stomach growled plaintively, reminding him why he'd woken up in the first place. Stiles carefully untangled himself from his lover and picked up a blanket to wrap around himself in lieu of clothes, padding quietly into the kitchen. The stew was still simmering on the counter, no one remembering to turn off the crockpot last night; Mitch did a good job making sure Stiles couldn't have a single coherent thought. He didn't bother with a bowl, just grabbing a spoon and taking off the lid to eat it straight out of the pot.

Soon Mitch joined him, missing Stiles' weight in his arms. He didn't have the decency to cover himself first.

"Hey," he said, his voice a low rumble against the back of Stiles' neck. It made him shiver.

"Hey yourself. How are you feeling?"

"Really good." Mitch lent down to nibble Stiles' shoulder, tugging on the blanket until it pooled at their feet. Without that barrier, Stiles could feel that Mitch was hard against his ass, and he huffed a soft laugh. If he didn't know better he would think Mitch was in rut to already want him again, but that was months away.

Stiles instead chalked it up to his own wily charms when Mitch coached him away from the counter and bent him over the table. It was sinfully easy for Mitch to slide inside him again, Stiles still wet and open from last night. He pillowed his head in his arms and curled his toes in pleasure as Mitch languidly thrust into him.

***

(Stiles does end up calling Talia, and finds out that werewolves go into rut later in the year.)

***

The rut wasn't a haze of mindless fucking. Mitch was still cognizant, in control. He just wanted, with a fierceness he'd never felt before, his desire demanding all of his attention. It was decadent.

Stiles was sleeping beside him, exhausted after days of thorough love making. Mitch was content to let him sleep, knew his mate dearly needed the rest. He entertained himself just petting his lover, sliding his hand under the blankets and running his fingers over Stiles' smooth skin.

Mitch shifted over until he was spooned up behind Stiles, nuzzling the soft tufts of his short hair. Stiles smelled like sex and sweat and them. He couldn't get enough of the intoxicating scent.

When Stiles started to stir awake Mitch smiled a bit, kissing that sensitive crook below Stiles' ear that always made him sigh in pleasure. This time was no different.

Stiles bared his neck for more, and mumbled, "Hey," his voice muffled by the pillow. Mitch hummed his response. "What time is it?"

"Early. You can go back to sleep if you want."

"Kinda hard to do with you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Mitch asked with faux innocence. Like his hand wasn't creeping up between Stiles' thighs. Mitch pulled his hand away and Stiles made a sound of displeasure, but Mitch was only adjusting to push Stiles' thighs open so he could nestle his cock inside. Stiles' eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks and he sighed a soft moan. Behind him Mitch growled quietly, a low rumble in his chest as he pulled Stiles' ass flush to his hips.

Every thrust was a slow, filthy grind that lulled Stiles until he was half-asleep. Mitch loosely curled his fingers around Stiles' cock, stroking him to a languid orgasm.

"That's it," he praised when Stiles spilled over his hand. He hummed in satisfaction, his knot swelling to lock them together, Stiles making soft little thrusts against him. "Get some sleep, darling."

"M'kay," Stiles incoherently mumbled. Mitch carelessly wiped his hand off on the sheet—they were going to need to do so many loads of laundry once this was over—and pulled the blankets over them both. He wrapped his arm around Stiles, blanketing him in a cocoon of warmth.

#cookie writes #stitch #stiles stilinski #mitch rapp #Fever Dream #the sequel to Hunted ;)#there is A Lot that goes on between February where Hunted Starts #and November where this section takes places lmao #cause remember last time we see Mitch he's a fkn wolf most of the time #and now he's a Mostly Function Human #he's a little bit of an asshole and doesn't put as much effort into being Normal as he could have #he prefers to stay a little wild #but it's cool Stiles is hot for it

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chaossmagic · 4 years

Text

take me into your loving arms (1/2)

Over the years, throughout the many ups and downs, one thing has always remained true; they feel safest and most at home in each other’s arms. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

A study in snuggles, physical closeness, and the non-sexual side of intimacy that Robert and Aaron both crave from each other.

read on ao3

Aaron thrashed in his sleep again, whimpering loud enough to wake Robert as suddenly and instantly as if someone had yelled in his ear; his heart started, lurched, eyes fixed in the semi-darkness on Aaron’s quaking figure under the covers, forehead shining with sweat and his face contorted into an expression that Robert swore caused his stomach to twist with the actual, physical pain of being punched.

Because that’s what it felt like, now, it had felt like for months. Aaron’s pain had become his own, and what he felt, Robert felt just as viscerally; or so it seemed to him, each time he felt a phantom stab of pain in his left forearm where the deep pink scar on Aaron’s was, or a ghostly voice that sounded like Gordon Livesy echoed inside his head when he knew it was ever-present in Aaron’s.

Aaron suddenly turned onto his side, his whole body snapping up into a ball as if he’d been burned; knees shoved under his chin, trying to make himself as small as possible even in sleep, protecting himself from an invisible foe that Robert couldn’t see.

Then he cried out, a horrible strangled half-scream that set every hair on Robert’s body on end, and he reacted without thinking; he sprang, shoving Aaron hard onto his back with one hand, the sudden force of movement waking him instantly with huge, gasping breaths and round, fearful eyes shining wet and glimmering with pain.

“Robert,” Aaron whimpered, arms flailing against the pillows as he came fully out of sleep - and then he started to sob, tears cascading down his cheeks and soaking the collar of his pyjama shirt, a ratty old grey thing with a large hole in one of the armpits that Robert remembered he’d snorted at when Aaron had put it on earlier that night. “Robert, Robert-”

“Sssh, sssh sssh,” Robert soothed, reaching up to bury his fingers in Aaron’s hair and stroke through the sleep-mussed curls, rough with frizz but silky soft against his skin at the same time. He kept his voice low as he spoke. “It’s okay. It’s alright, it was just a dream. Just a nightmare. S’okay.”

What Gordon did to him is real, though, his mind supplied bitterly, and a flare of anger rose up within him, hot as a live flame. He hated the man. Perhaps there had never been anyone he’d hated more, except for maybe his own father.

“M’scared of him, Robert,” Aaron sobbed, crying into the pillow, which kept his voice muffled but still audible. “He’s gone but I’m still so scared.”

“I know you are,” he replied quietly, matter-of-factly, without judging or bias. “I think that’s understandable, no-one will judge you for that.” A beat of silence followed, Robert keeping up his carding of Aaron’s hair, the way one might comfort a crying child but - more. Always so much more.

He dropped his hand suddenly, opening up his arms wide. “Come here. Come here, right up next to me, as close as you can get.”

Aaron looked up through wet eyelashes, wary, then wriggled across the gap between their bodies, shifting so that they were toe-to-toe and he was so close he could feel the heat radiating off of Robert’s sleep-warmed body.

“Closer,” Robert whispered, “like this.” He reached for Aaron’s arms and wrapped them around waist, pressing his palms flat against the expanse of his back, bringing their hips and chests together. He wound his own arms around Aaron and pulled him towards him, then threw one of his long legs over his hip, drawing him so close that Aaron lay against him from crown to toe and their hearts beat in synchronisation between them.

Robert craned his neck and rested his chin on the top of Aaron’s head, dropping down momentarily to press a quick kiss there.

“There,” he said, “is that better?”

“Yeah,” Aaron snuffled gratefully, his hands clenched into fists on Robert’s chest. “Yeah, loads. You’re so warm, it’s - it’s nice.”

“Good. That’s good, Aaron,” he wriggled closer, pressing his cheek to the top of Aaron’s head, and tightened his arms around him. He let out a contented sigh. “I just want to keep you safe.”

“I know,” Aaron said, “And you do.”

“He won’t hurt you ever again,” Robert said quietly. “I promise.”

But the promise was unheard, because Aaron had already fallen back to sleep.

ii.

Waking up in a sun-warmed room as the first light of morning started to creep through the curtains, the duvet tangled around his shoulders and the heavy, deep breaths of the man he loved filling his ears, Aaron thought he’d never had a better start to any kind of day. Not in a long, long time at least.

One arm was slung around Robert’s waist, fingertips brushing the material of the pyjamas he’d borrowed from him the previous night, just under his ribs and he could feel the rise and fall of his breath, a soothing rhythm that reminded Aaron of where he was, who he was with, and how everything that had felt so lost and directionless for months and months had finally sharpened back into focus with one clear sight eclipsing everything; Robert.

Robert, his Robert, his husband, back home. With him, where he belonged.

He moved closer and wound his arm tighter around Robert’s waist, burying his nose in the crook of his neck. Call him weird or sentimental or soppy, but he’d always loved the way Robert smelled; clean, fresh shampoo, heady cologne, the fabric softener he always insisted on putting in the washing machine even though Aaron moaned that it made his clothes smell like a flowerbed. Warm skin and freshly-brewed strong coffee, real Italian leather and the citrusy spray he always cleaned the inside of his car with, reminding Aaron of oranges and lemons ripening under a hot sun somewhere tropical and far away from Emmerdale, somewhere they might go eventually, just the two of them...

“Stop sniffin’ me, it’s a bit creepy,” Robert mumbled sleepily, as always sensing Aaron’s presence in that particular way that he did, and always had. “If the guy I pulled last night turns out to be a cannibal, I might have to go back to Mike the chef.”

“Ha ha,” Aaron said sarcastically. “Don’t even joke about that, as if I’m ever lettin’ you go again - which is never, in case last night wasn’t enough proof for ya.”

“I remember,” Robert sighed fondly, and Aaron knew there was a hint of a smile around his lips. “You shouted at me in the street.”

“Yeah, bit embarrassing that, wasn’t it?” Aaron joked, fake-cringing, and Robert’s chuckle vibrated through his chest and into Aaron’s own. God, he’d missed that sound, deep and rich and mellow like honey.

“Not to me,” Robert said seriously, quietly. “I’ve - I’ve never felt more special than that moment when you opened your mouth and started saying all that- what you said about me. You make me feel - well, not an entire waste of space.”

“I love you, ya muppet,” Aaron said simply, kissing the back of Robert’s neck softly. “What d’ya think I went to all that trouble for yesterday if I didn’t?”

“You’re Aaron Dingle and you like a bit of drama?” Robert suggested.

For that, Aaron kicked him lightly in the back of the shins. “Oi!” Then he kissed Robert’s neck again, harder, letting his beard scrape against the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck, where the ends of dark blond hair curled in close like wisps of cotton.

“Love you,” Robert murmured.

“I love you, too,” Aaron said back, resting his cheek on the jut of Robert’s shoulder, letting the beat of his heart in the line of his jaw lull him back to an easy doze as he thought of the silver rings stashed away beneath an old cushion in a drawer, and the question he was going to ask Robert when he woke up for real in just a few hours’ time.

iii.

The sounds of the woman they’d rented the cottage from receded slowly as she turned in for the night, the sound of the door closing between her house and the one in which they were currently staying letting a wash of relief flood over their tensed, highly-strung bodies. They lay side by side, cheeks pillowed on folded arms, just looking at one another, neither daring to be the first one to slip into a slumber lest they waste the precious minutes and hours they still had.

It was early evening still, warm orange light washing the room in a golden haze and the sound of twittering birds could be heard outside the window. The only other sound was the faint ticking of a clock, the burble of water pipes, and the sound of their breathing in unison as they drank each other in.

The bed was small, just large enough to fit them both if Robert drew his knees up like a cat curling up in the sun; their socked feet brushed together in a way that made Aaron giggle when the sensation made his toes tickle, and his nose wrinkled up with mirth whenever it did. It was a sight that drew an ever-wider smile from Robert, who stared and stared at his husband without so much as a blink or a flutter of an eyelash, wanting to commit every detail of his view to memory, just in case...

...In case it all went wrong.

The thought was painful, unbearable. Optimism and hope had to mask the fear that had settled in Robert’s stomach like a stone, threatening to bring him to his knees at any moment. He’d made Aaron stay in the living room under the pretence of getting him to relax while he made them brews, so he wouldn’t see his hands shaking as he poured out coffee and stirred spoons of sugar into the mugs. And he’d ran the taps in the sink at full blast and pretended he was washing his hands afterwards, when in reality he didn’t want Aaron to hear him being sick because of the anxiety that buzzed under every inch of his skin.

“What are you thinking about?” Aaron asked.

“You,” Robert said sincerely. “Us. How much I don’t want to lose any of this...time, when we’re on a clock.”

“We won’t. We’ll be together forever soon, you and me, and it’s - I’m got gonna lie, Robert, it’s going to be absolutely terrifying, at least at the start.” His lips quirked up into a slight smile. “But we’ll have each other. That’s what matters. That’s all that matters now, yeah?”

“You’re the very best part of me, Aaron Dingle,” Robert said hoarsely, reaching to take Aaron’s hand. He reciprocated, twining their fingers together so tightly that nothing could get through them, not even the evening half-light from the sun that was slowly setting behind the window blinds. Their matching rings shone, glinting like cut diamonds, throwing sparkles of light into their eyes.

They saw nothing but each other, the vast, unknown future ahead of them another day’s problem. For now, they both rested their gaze on their joined hands, keeping themselves connected and intertwined, until the very last minute when they’d have to break apart.

But they’d never be apart again, not for the rest of their lives.

#lorna's writing #robron #robron fic #aaron x robert #emmerdale fic #why yes the title is from thinking out loud by ed sheeran #and what about it??

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probably-writing-x · 5 years

Text

Falling like the stars

~Shawn Mendes~

~Based on Falling Like the Stars by James Arthur~

Tour was an incredible experience to word in the most mundane way. Every night, Shawn's young soul felt utterly overwhelmed by the downpour of love that echoed through sold out arenas as he was welcomed with hours of reminders that all of his dreams were now real, present realities. It was all he could wish it could be.

But one thing was missing from those nights. He didn't have his star sitting cross legged on the left side of the stage, always the left. He didn't have her swaying in her seated position, only miming along since she wanted to make sure she took in as much of his voice as humanly possible. He didn't have her to give him a chaiste squeeze of his hand before he ran through the crowd. And that could sometimes make it feel like arenas might as well be empty.

"Come on man, are you alright?" Connor waves a hand in front of Shawn's face, "Stop missing her so much!"

"No, I'm not- I mean it's not-" Shawn stutters, running a hand across his hair, "I'm fine,"

Connor tips his head to the side in a typical 'don't bullshit me'.

"I'm fine," Shawn encourages, "Come on, we're missing the match,"

Connor turns his attention back to the screen of the tour bus that was currently playing the basketball game and it gives Shawn a chance to slip back into his feelings.

He'd promised you that he wouldn't think about you too much when he was away, thanks to you knowing how upset he got if he thought about not seeing you for too long. He'd also promised that, when he got home, he wouldn't let you leave his arms, he'd never let go. And the last few weeks had been spent with him constantly regretting not saying goodbye to you one more time before he left. Or not missing his taxi so that he could stay with you for another ten minutes.

You had been friends for long enough to know that you were destined to stay together for the rest of your lives. Up until recently, Shawn had assumed that eternity would remain completely platonic. And then he realised he was falling faster than he could keep up with. He realised that ache in his heart wasn't loneliness but instead it was the realisation that he'd already found the one to cure all loneliness, heal all sadness and give all love. He'd had you right beside him and now, he was halfway across the world feeling more distant from you than any ocean could represent.

Shawn excused himself silently from the group and found seclusion in the bed he took as his own at the back of the bus. It was just a little too short for his long legs and he always felt tangled in the sheets when his legs weren't intertwined with yours after somehow managing to fall asleep during another film.

The two of you weren't dating. No, definitely not. But neither showed any interest in dating anyone else and there had been far too many occasions where you did things above the friendship boundary. Hands that trickled into each others hold during a long car journey. Fingers that dropped low on your back as he guided you through a crowd, no inch of your skin feeling uncomfortable in his touch. Lips that ghosted almost too close too kissing - never going so far as to do so.

But, now, he was dialling your number because no other option seemed plausible.

"Hey Shawn!" Your voice sounds from the other end of the call, though he is only met with the image of your ceiling instead of the face he hoped to see, "I'm just making myself some lunch, are you okay?"

"I can't see you," He mumbles, pulling his knees up to his chest and tugging the cuffs of his hoodie a little more over his hands.

"Oh, shit, sorry," You chuckle, fiddling to prop the screen up against the coffee machine, "I didn't realise you were facetiming. How are you?"

"I'm good, just tired," He comments in a lousy attempt at shadowing his low state.

You frown and drop the wooden spoon in your hand into the pot, turning your full attention to the boy, "Dude, what's wrong?"

" Just, 'm missing you is all," Shawn mumbles, "It's been too long,"

"Come on man," You pout, "You're killing me! You know I miss you too, but it's only a few more days and then you're back, right?"

"But the shows are over now, I can't distract myself with them," He admits, taking a deep breath as his chest felt far too tight, "It's just interviews and press,"

"Then distract yourself with them, and then you can focus on coming home. This place feels so cold without you, and the view gets a little boring when you're not picking out things I haven't noticed," You laugh, "I've got everything planned for when you're home, too,"

"Tell me," Shawn says, shifting in the bed so that he flops a bit lower onto the pillow, the camera low in an angle that somehow still refused to give him a double chin as it did for you.

"Okay," You clap your hands, "I've already picked out enough films to last approximately 24 hours. I've got my shopping list of all of your favourites. And I've said to your mum that we'll go round there on Friday night - and I asked her to cook that meal you love,"

Despite his low state, Shawn can't help but smile at your efforts. His parents loved you as they would love any daughter-in-law. You still went there for dinners when he wasn't home and you still met up with Aaliyah to go out for a girly day. But it was always 'Shawn's friend' when they introduced you to anyone. And you didn't realise how much it would hurt every time those exact words were used.

"What are your plans for the next few days then?" You encourage at least some conversation from Shawn, moving your phone as you settle into a stool at the island in the kitchen.

"I don't want to talk about me, tell me what you're doing,"

You knew Shawn was really low when he got like this. When even the thought of himself felt like something he wanted to erase. When he wanted nothing but to focus his attention solely on someone else - namely you.

"Okay, well I've got my nieces and nephews coming tomorrow so that should be an interesting one," You laugh, "All four of them on my own! But it will be good, I'm sure we'll end up going on some adventure,"

As you continue to ramble about your upcoming days, Shawn can't help but fixate on the idea. He'd come to imagine his future if the two of you were really together. And he always imagined you two as parents. Four exactly. Sure, you'd be living on no sleep and an empty fridge and the desperation for a minute of silence but it would be somehow perfect. You'd have nights with one child on each knee, telling them stories about how you two met or how their Daddy embarrassed himself on countless occasions. Maybe you'd walk in on him singing to them and it would be the picture of everything you could ever ask for. Maybe he could be part of all you'd ever ask for.

"Honestly, S, I'm sure I'm losing my mind," You exclaim, laughing with your own mishap, "I just keep forgetting everything. Yesterday I walked all the way back from the shop and realised I'd driven there in the first place! It must be my old age,"

Shawn laughs absently and lets himself focus solely on that idea instead. When your kids have grown up and it is just you two once again, you changed in no way from the girl he learnt he could truly, truly love. You'd be one of those couples still completely engrossed in each other, devoted to making sure your past vows were still followed, through sickness and health.

"Brian's asked me to go out with him tomorrow night but I don't think I'll drink. You know he's a bad influence and you also know what happened last time I went out with him," You shake your head.

Yes. He did know. He remembered holding your hair back and stroking your back as you brought up the regret of that one last drink, and the next one, and maybe the one after that. He remembers finally giving up and letting you sleep on the couch, and he remembers not sleeping because he feared what would happen if he didn't keep an eye on you. Shawn remembers forcing himself to count at least fifty reasons why the two of you should just stay friends. He got one - he didn't want to lose you.

"Right, I'm going to have to go honey," You conclude, "Just, don't even think about home. Enjoy your last couple of days of freedom because, as soon as you get back, I expect you to catch up on all the chore days you've missed, understand Mendes?"

"I'll see you soon, okay?" He seals, "Real soon,"

Before you can respond, the facetime call ends.

That's when it washes over. These interviews could be cancelled, these flights could be moved forward. Anything could be twisted to make it possible. The only thing holding him back from being with you was his fear. Well... they say you're most fearless when you're young.

~~~

"You're sure about this?" Andrew chases after him as Shawn gathers up his already packed suitcase and his guitar case - the others could bring back the rest.

"No, god, no," Shawn shakes his head frantically, eyes wide to hopefully take in anything he'd left, "But I'd rather settle it now. Know where I stand, y'know?"

"What happens if she-" Andrew starts but he knows it will pain Shawn too much to think about the end of that sentence. He refrains from completing it.

"If she doesn't love me back? Then I've lost the most important person in my life, the entire future I want and things won't ever be the same between us," He clasps his friend on the shoulder, "But I'm trying to not think about that too much, buddy,"

Before anyone can say anything more, Shawn's got his bags in hand and he's stepping off the bus, walking the length beside the vehicle towards the waiting taxi.

~~~

He thought about it for the whole journey to the airport, he thought about it when he was going through security, all the way to the flight where he realised even loud music wouldn't drown out the questions flooding his mind.

Eyes focused on the sea underneath the blanket of clouds he now flew above, Shawn knew exactly where he stood. Vulnerable and fearful, throwing it all out on the line, Shawn was coming back to you. And the thought of you on the other side of the door to your place was enough to guide him home. Always.

~~~

You were sure you'd dreamt it when you first heard the knock. Sure it was the concoction of the fatigue in your mind and the ache in your heart. It couldn't have possibly been real. You'd been on the phone to him only 12 hours prior.

But there it was again.

And, somehow, as the early hours past midnight crept lonely through the apartment, you found yourself unable to resist the slight glimmer of hope that he would be on that other side of the door.

The almost-known source knocked again before you opened the door, wanting to truly make sure that it wasn't just a figment of your imagination. But, as the door between you opened, you were met with none other than the only person you hoped to see at this hour.

"Shawn what are you-" You begin, "I mean, how did you-"

"(Y/n), you talk way too much and it's one of the things I love about you but, right now, I've been planning what I'm going to say for the past six hours on that Goddamn flight so I just need to say it," Shawn says breathlessly, pausing to breathe once, twice before continuing, "When we were sixteen, you told me that there was one way you'd know you were in love. What did you say?"

You stutter a little and swallow the thick lump in your throat, "I... I told you that it would feel like you were falling through the stars,"

"Right," Shawn nods, "Well, I think I'm falling a bit too fast (Y/n),"

All of this was making your head ache and your heart race. You dug your nails into the middle of your palm just a little harshly. Would you wake up?

"See, what I've realised is that I lose myself when I'm not with you. And that's not just something platonic, it's because I've found the person I want to spend all my moments with. The person I'm not afraid to tell that..." He stops and looks you dead in the eye, "I love you,"

You're completely stunned speechless - which happened rarely but always seemed to be around Shawn. When you first heard his album. When he brought you to one of his live shows for the first time. When he asked you to move in with him. Now.

"I-" You begin but the attempts are filled with futile effort, "I can't-"

You watch Shawn's mouth drop slightly as he expects the rest of that sentence to be completely negative.

"I can't believe we're doing this in the doorway at 2am," You laugh, "You dickhead,"

With that you find yourself stepping forward to kiss him, latching onto lips you'd been longing for. His hands are uncertain at first, falling back into teenage fear, before they become sure of themselves and one moves to your hair, the other pressing against the small of your back like it could bring you any closer.

"You didn't say it," Shawn mumbles against your lips, trying to calm his breathing as he settles his forehead against yours.

"I'm not falling Shawn. I'm already there," You admit, "I'm in love with you. Completely and utterly in love with you,"

~~~

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