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clonecyare · 3 years

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I Can Handle Myself

Summary: You were perfectly capable of handling yourself when it came to matters of your safety. But that would never stop Fox from doing his part.

Pairing: Commander Fox x senator!reader

Tags: assination attempts, protective fox, senator!reader, republic gala, canon typical violence/shenanigans, banter, secret relationship, kissing, suggestive ending,

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: The 2nd instalment of my outfit series. This one is based on this outfit submitted by @murdertoothpick for Fox. Each fic in the series can be read as stand-alone fics.

1st instalment: Playing a Dangerous Game - Captain Rex x medic/!reader

|| Masterlist || Tag list ||

----

“I am going to say this one more time, Commander. I do not need a babysitter for this Gala, I am more than capable of handling myself.” You said matter-of-factly as you walked through the halls of the senate, datapad in hand, tapping perhaps a little passive-aggressively on the screen.

Commander Fox chuckled under his bucket, and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“With all due respect, Senator, you were the target of an assassination attempt 4 days ago.”

“And I survived. Nobody would be stupid enough to try a second attempt at Republic Gala, not with the Senate present.”

Fox chuckled and fell in step with you, bumping shoulders with you as you walked. “Maybe so, but it’s the wishes of the Chancellor that you have a member of the Guard escort you, while the rest patrol the Gala.”

You stopped outside the entryway to your office and put one hand on your hip, datapad and a stack of flimsi files clutched under one arm and pointing accusingly at Fox with the other from behind the death grip you had on your caf. “You’re enjoying this.”

You nodded politely to Hound who had been standing guard at your office, and he saluted with a polite, “Ma’am.” He took his leave as Fox took his place, leaning against the doorway with his head tilted as you punched in the keycode. The doors slid open, and he followed you inside, removing his bucket with a gentle hiss and holding it under his arm against his hip.

You couldn’t help but stare a little, just briefly. He was sporting a few soft grey hairs at the sides of his neatly trimmed hair. It made him appear just a slight bit older and more sophisticated, the neat locks of loose hair framing his handsome face.

“Perhaps a little. I do get quite the kick of you not getting your own way.”

His smug comment brought your attention back to the present and you muttered something in response with narrowed eyes. Dropping the stack of files and the datapad on your desk, you hopped up to sit on the edge and crossed one knee over the other. The lightweight fabric of your skirt sported a high slit, exposing the skin of your legs and upper thigh.

You sighed, resigned to your fate and leaned back on one palm, swirling the steaming caf in your paper takeaway cup.

“Who will be my knight in shining red armour, then?”

You asked as you blew on the hot caf and took a sip.

Fox, whose eyes has been previously occupied following the slit of your skirt up to your thigh, snapped out of his daydream and plastered a handsome smirk on his face.

“Oh, that would be me. I’ll pick you up at 7 sharp, mesh’la.”

“Wha-” You did a rather ungracious spit take withyour coffee, as the Commander slid his helmet back on and moved through your office doors with one final look back at you.

“Oh, and don’t be late.”

----

Leaning into the mirror you carefully applied the deep crimson red lipstick, treating the task with the utmost delicacy, lest you waste your look entirely. You stepped back once you were through and took a moment to admire your handiwork.

Dressed head to toe in deep, rich red tones and soft fabrics, you felt you had outdone yourself this time. If you were to be on your Commander’s arm all evening, the least you could do was make an effort, right?

You smirked softly, tilting your head in the mirror. Yeah, this would show him.

You had decided to go for an elegant gown for this evening, floor-length and a deep wine red in colour. The upper portion was a bodice lined with velvet and fitted to your body, with sleek black linear detailing down the front. Around the upper edge and over the shape of your chest was lined with intricate gold detailing.

In the centre of your chest, just under the hollow of your throat, sat a delicate golden brooch, which held from each side 2 long strips of the same wine-red material from your dress, draped prettily back over your shoulders, accentuating your chest and neck.

You had chosen several simple gold jewellery items, and tied your hair up into an intricate bun, completing your look and signature red lip. You were just touching up the corners of your lipstick when there was a firm knock at your door.

You headed for the door, opening it with a smile.

“Good evening, Commander.”

You smiled, voice sweet like honey. Your Commander, to your delight, was stood frozen in the doorway looking at you. In one hand he held the cap of his dress greys and in the other, a bouquet of Queen’s Heart flowers.

“Fox?”

You smiled softly and reach a hand out to touch his forearm. The gentle touch broke him from his stare and he quickly cleared his throat, offering you the bouquet with a bow. “For you.”

You smiled and took them with a courtesy, “they’re beautiful, come in, let me find a spot for them.” You stepped aside to let him in, finding the perfect spot for the flowers on your table.

When you turned back, Fox was watching you again, though this time he was smiling handsomely. You smiled back, “well, how do I look?”

“Mesh’la. Truly mesh’la.” He smiled as he offered his arm. Your cheeks flamed a pretty pink, bringing a satisfied smirk to the Commander’s face as you slid your arm through his own.

You locked up the apartment and made your way strangely quiet Senate District. The air was crisp against your skin, cooling the warmth you felt where you were brushing arms with the soldier lightly.

“You know, you clean up pretty well outside of all that plastoid.”

You smiled playfully, looking up at him. He smiled back, chuckling and shaking his head lightly, hair bouncing lightly in the gentle breeze. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm. I would go so far as to say a 10/10.”

Fox groaned deeply in his chest, head hanging sightly. You swore it was to hide his smile.

“I hate you.”

You smiled fondly and pressed into his side, free hand resting on his arm that was holding yours.

“No, you don’t.”

----

Perhaps you may have been wrong about the Gala. Fox had his reputation for being a little… prickly, at the best of times. But, as the over the top affairs go, the Commander had proven himself quite the charmer.

He has stayed dutifully by your side most of the evening, So, having a bodyguard was, as it turned out, a blessing in disguise - though you would never admit as much to anyone else. Far fewer senatorial aides tried to approach you upon spotting the head of the Coruscant Guard on your arm. Even several of the more conservative senators passed you by upon receiving his death glare.

At one point, towards the end of the evening, you had even managed to convince the stoic Commander to join you on the ballroom floor to dance. Well, sway, would be more accurate. The two of you moved around the room in a gentle sway, you humming softly along to the tune while Fox rested his cheek atop your head.

You raised your glass of Algarine wine to your lips in an almost mini toast, “Well Commander, it seems we had noth-”

Your words died in your throat as the glass suddenly shattered in your hand. The blaster bolt that has cause it clipped your right cheek, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. A roar of commotion suddenly filled the room, with several masked individuals pushing through the crowd. Most of the shots were trained on you, but you now noticed a group of them firing off into the guests as a distraction.

“Get down. Now!”

Fox barked, crowding you to the floor. Thire and Thorn were already pushing through the crowds, firing at 2 of the intruders and calling in backup.

“Commander!”

Hound threw Fox’s blasters towards him and took off after one of the assailants, Stone calling for backup. The leader of the group was faster, though, taking another shot that you managed to dodge as Fox tackled him, throwing himself between you and the hitman, and knocking his blaster from his hands. The pair wrestled for the single DC-17 that had fallen between them, each landing several punches.

In the end, the hitman got the upper hand. Blood rushed to your ears, cancelling out the commotion behind you. As soon as he pulled the pistol on the Commander, you were behind him, panting heavily, pistol to the back of his head.

“Drop it. Now. I promise I’m faster.”

Fox looked at you with wide eyes, before the dropped to your exposed thigh and the small holster secured around your upper thigh, soft brown irises slowly darkening. Discreet, made for a small pistol like an ELG-3A.

The man dropped the blaster and Fox grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, binding his wrists and looking over his shoulder at you with a chuckle as he pushed the man towards one of the Corries that had arrived.

The room was emptying now, only a few shaken aides left milling around, and few vod who were cleaning up and securing the room. Fox lifted a hand to brush a few hairs back behind your ear, and you smiled.

“I told you I could handle myself.”

Fox laughed, holding your cheek as his calloused thumb swiped over your cheek, wiping away the trail of blood. “Yes, you most certainly did, cyar’ika.”

You turned your cheek into his palm and pressed a light kiss, looking up at him.

Fox took one precursory look around the ballroom and bent down, kissing you hard. It wasn’t soft or sweet like you knew they could be. It wasn’t careful and quick, like so many of your kisses had to be in order to remain a secret.

It was rushed, and desperate. You could practically feel the adrenalin rolling off him in waves. It was an oddly comforting feeling, one you had grown to know only too well. The kind Fox radiated after gruelling sessions guarding the Senate. Or after the occasional run-in with the cesspool of Coruscant’s underworld.

But it was most notable in these moments. When you had found a way to put yourself in the firing line again. When he couldn’t let his mask slip, when he couldn’t treat you as more than a senator under his protection. When all he could do was his job.

It was these moments afterwards that he needed you the most, that you needed him. It was in these moments, you knew exactly what you both needed.

You broke away, eyes never leaving his own as you took his arm.

“Take me home, Fox.”

----

Tag list:

@captainrexsfuturewife

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evehere · 3 years

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eve, hi! your 2ha-qws au is so so good! mo ran's regret and his thoughts of the underworld ("Maybe then he’d reach the underworld mostly intact, and he wouldn’t scare Chu Wanning too much when he saw him." my heart) are amazing. cwn's not even there and you can really feel based on mr's thoughts how much he sacrificed for mr. it's heartbreaking. i'm really happy you did a little fic with your idea. if you ever do more, i'll just have to sit and wait excitedly!

Hi, Lu! I’m glad you liked my qws-au! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟI’m testing it out, since I’m writing something larger, but I couldn’t resist to writing it. Like, the busier I am in rl, the more inspiration I get OvO It has come to the point it has a more complete outline and a title (which means, unfortunately for my schedule, that I’m going to write this, albeit slower and in shorter segments).

I have named it “Yearning unwittingly breaks the willow branch” (无令长相思，折断杨柳枝), the phrase the fox demon tells Mo Ran when he hands him the box with Jiangui. Let’s leave it at yearning willow for short 😂

Willow branches in Chinese poetry, particularly broken ones, means “regretful parting”. It basically comes to “to yearn for the wrong person will lead to bitter partings”, which is 2ha and this fic summed up in 10 neat characters XD

I have a second chapter written, which I’ll probably post here this weekend, and it has enough length now (for my own standards) to be posted to ao3, which I’ll do this weekend as well.

I can’t stress enough how thankful I am for the interest you and other readers have taken into this fic! It’s really encouraging to find people that like what you write, so you have my eternal gratitude °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

As thanks, I offer you a ficlet. I hope you like it!

Yearning willow masterpost here 🍃

Mo Ran 2.0 (1)

“Who are you?”

“What do you mean, Wanning?” Mo Ran laughed, though his voice was constricted under the weight of his husband.

If anyone entered Honglian House now, they’d be taken aback by the sight. Or rather, they’d start preparing for the funeral of the marquis’ husband.

Mo Ran was lying on his back on the bed, his arms pinned tightly at his sides by Chu Wanning’s legs. Said man was striding his abdomen, a hand clutching a handful of Mo Ran’s hair, and the other one pressing a sharp dagger in his neck.

But Chu Wanning didn’t care, because this man wasn’t his husband.

“You’re not Mo Ran,” he said in a cold, sharp voice. “Who are you? A Northern spy? Or an Eastern assassin? What have you done with him?”

The man was wearing his husband’s face alright. He pulled tentatively at his hair, but it was rooted firmly in the scalp—the hair was real then. He examined his neck meticulously, but found no marks of a mask, nor trace of make-up.

However, Chu Wanning had read about the magic some Northern tribes practiced, of the many tricks Eastern kingdoms knew of espionage. He didn’t need to know what had been used exactly, because something was terribly amiss.

Instead of an answer, he stared at him with those dark eyes, with an almost purplish quality to them. So similar to Mo Ran’s, and yet, not his.

Mo Ran never looked at him with such tenderness.

He’d have never stood still under Chu Wanning like he was now. The real him would have thrown him down by now—gods knew Mo Ran had that strength—maybe even slapping or punching him, and he’d order Chu Wanning to kneel in the shrine to repent for his disrespect towards his husband. All of those would have been more agreeable behaviour, because it would be ordinary.

“Why do you think I’m not him?”

Chu Wanning sneered.

“You didn’t do your investigation very well,” he said, pressing the dagger more firmly against his neck and extracting a drop of blood. “Mo Ran doesn’t come to Honglian House on his own accord.”

The rest of it was too embarrassing to tell to an outsider, and much more to one that didn’t know the actual state of the relationship between them. He cooks sometimes, Chu Wanning thought, but never makes a portion for me. He would have never called a doctor to attend to me, nor would have him come to my bedside to see me.

If it was in his fancy, he’d have just taken Chu Wanning, doctor’s orders and his own agreement be damned.

Quick as lightning, Chu Wanning pressed down with his thighs when he felt him trying to extract a hand.

“Don’t move!” He snarled.

His legs trembled with the effort, and his knees protested under him, despite being supported by the soft mattress.

“Okay, okay,” the impostor acquiesced, relaxing under him. “See? I’m not moving. Don’t overexert yourself, you’re still recovering, okay?”

There was worry in his voice, Chu Wanning realised, his hand twitching where he was grasping his hair.

“What have you done with Mo Ran?” He asked again after a moment, trying to recover his senses.

If he spent a moment longer with this impostor that had Mo Ran’s face and voice, he’d go mad.

The impostor merely looked at him with a helpless gaze.

“I’m really not some impostor,” he said. Before Chu Wanning could say anything, he continued, “let’s see, what can I tell you to make you believe me?” He was deep in thought for a second. “Ah! You have a blade scar in your chest, just above your heart!”

Chu Wanning pondered on that, but shook his head almost immediately.

“You could have seen that when I was unconscious.”

Unnerving as it was, it seemed the impostor wasn’t in the slightest bit nervous, even though Chu Wanning hadn’t relaxed his hand on the dagger on his neck all this time. He merely looked at the canopy over them, as if he was being asked a question over tea.

“I remember…” he said, his voice much lower than before. “I remember that in our wedding night, we were like this, with Wanning on top of me.”

…

Like a cat bristled with water, Chu Wanning jumped backwards, jolting to the corner of the bed. The dagger fell on the floor resoundingly, and Mo Ran sat on the bed, smoothing out his rumpled clothes, with a boyish smile with dimples. The smile felt apologetic, and somewhat guilty, but Chu Wanning was too flustered to process that.

He…

He had to be Mo Ran. Only Mo Ran knew.

For all he had been a scoundrel since they married, he didn’t talk about the matters of the bedroom. Not to him, not to anyone.

Besides, in the months after their marriage, he had let many people believe he had gone directly to Mu Yanli’s room straight after the banquet, instead of coming to Chu Wanning’s first and then leaving for hers.

The night of his wedding. It was an unpleasant memory, and he pushed it far to the back of his mind.

He smoothed his own clothes as well, but kept himself in the far corner of the bed. For now, he should focus on what he could manage.

“You let me put a knife to your neck,” he said, incredulity swarming his features and his voice.

For much less he had been ordered to kneel in the shrine. However, the present Mo Ran didn’t show any indications of wanting to punish him. The young man picked up the dagger from the floor and put it on the low table in front of them.

The tray with food Mo Ran had brought was on top of the table. The food was still warm, still steaming—Chu Wanning’s attack had taken a short time. Mo Ran picked up the bowl of congee with minced sea bass and green onions and a spoon, and sat back on the edge of the bed, offering a spoonful to him with a bright smile.

“I know my Wanning would never hurt me.”

***

Honglian (红莲) means “red lotus”. It was the name of Chu Wanning’s pavillion in the novel.

If you liked this consider supporting me with a reblog!

#qws au #yearning willow #ranwan #2ha #2ha ficlet #二哈和他的白猫师尊 #dumb husky and his white cat shizun #I have a new tag! yearning willow to find the others parts as well #I’m writing another plot heavy fic #so sometimes being able to just write heartbreak and angst is... a release?#like I have huge knives for my other fic #but I can’t show them yet #so I’m releasing my cruelty on ranwan

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

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I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter Eight

Masterlist

The room seemed empty without the plague that was his brothers. Tim stood silent and still for a few moments longer (long enough to make it awkward) before he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about Damian, he was out of line.”

“He was, but I was a little out of line as well,” Marinette said with a sigh. “But you are also not responsible for your brother. I feel like I need to apologize and let you know that it’s okay if you don’t want to go for coffee.”

“No, we’re still on for that,” Tim said immediately. “As long as you still want to, of course.”

“I’ll be waiting in anticipation. But I’ve held you captive for too long already, I’m sure you’ve got things to do, naps to take. Unless you have any last minute comments or complaints on the suit?”

“Ask me that again on a day when I’ve had more than forty-five minutes of sleep. Then I’ll have an incredibly witty response,” Tim said with a smile. “Aside from the lack of lining, the suit is everything I never knew I needed.”

He carefully took off the jacket while his mind raced. Hearing the way Marinette had phrased her experiences had struck him with the fact that Paris wasn’t nearly as idyllic and safe as they had supposed, and the thought of Marinette in danger was unacceptable. Instead of sleeping, Tim found himself compiling a briefing file on the crime history of Paris, as well as the most important aspects of Ladybug and Chat Noir. Now Tim just had to convince everyone else that some of them needed to go assess the situation in the city itself. There were numerous evidences that Hawkmoth was an issue of the past, but the fact that the whole situation had gone on for at least four years without the League even noticing was… concerning, to say the least.

Privately, Tim couldn’t help but wonder just how Marinette’s name hadn’t been added to the list of “akumatized” victims. From everything he knew of her, she was fueled by love and passion - she was an unstoppable force of emotion. He couldn’t help but respect her all the more.

Ladybug was also a mystery. Paris wasn’t in constant danger like before, but she remained active, helping out in day-to-day crime. Chat Noir showed up occasionally, but she seemed to be the only regular hero.

It was hours before the fittings for Dick and Jason were finished, and then he called everyone in for a meeting. Damian looked incredibly annoyed, a good portion of which was a remnant from his earlier collision with Marinette. Just thinking about the skirmish was enough for Tim to decide he was at least a little bit in love with the woman. Anyone who could put Damian in his place like that was someone to be respected.

“So what’s up, Timmy? Why the family meeting? It must be serious if even Alfred is part of this,” Dick said, sitting down.

“First I have a question for Bruce. Did the League ever get any kind of distress call from Paris between nine and five years ago?”

“From Paris? None that I know of. What’s going on, Tim?” Bruce asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Sit down boys, there’s been a serious oversight.”

Tim handed them each a file and sat down, settling in to watch their reactions.

*******

“Why do you keep looking in the mirror, Maman?”

Marinette lurched away from the bathroom mirror, cheeks flushing. “I… I was just making sure my hair looked okay.”

“You look pretty, Maman. I’m sure Monsieur Tim will think so too. When this is done you need to invite him to Paris so you can go on a date without me, like it’s supposed to be.”

Choking on her spit, Marinette stared at her child. “Leo! Who told you to say such a thing?!”

“Uncle Kim says that kids aren’t supposed to go on dates.”

“Well, that’s usually true,” she said, massaging her temples. “But people go on dates to see if they like someone enough to see if they want them to be in their lives forever. If a man wants to be in my life forever, I have to make sure that you like him.”

“I told you, we’re supposed to know Monsieur Tim,” Leo said, slightly exasperated. “He makes us both happier.”

“You’re right, and I trust you, but Monsieur Tim and I just need to get to know each other before anything happens.”

“Fine,” Leo huffed, dramatically throwing himself onto his hotel bed. Marinette couldn’t help but shake her head. Her son was incredibly mature, and sometimes it felt like he could practically see into the future. But she loved the reminders that he was still just a child.

“Stop pouting, it’s time to go,” Marinette said, shoving him off of the bed. He caught himself with ease - it seemed that he’d been blessed with a natural athleticism instead of her own inborn clumsiness.

The coffee shop was easily within walking distance, and Marinette held Leo’s hand with the strength of a vice - it was Gotham, after all, and they didn’t have the best track record with the city.

After walking for about a block, Marinette finally brought herself to ask Leo what she’d been wondering since she and Leo had met Tim. “Leo?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean when you keep saying that we’re supposed to know Monsieur Tim?”

He turned to her, gifting her with one of his rare full smiles, and Marinette barely resisted the urge to smother him in a hug. His blue eyes sparkled with some secret knowledge before he said, “That’s a secret, Maman. You just have to wait and find out.”

“Leo, that’s not fair,” Marinette said, mock pouting.

“Monsieur Tim is going to be important to us both, but especially to you,” Leo said plainly. “He can understand you in a way that most people can’t, but he wouldn’t try to pity you or something like that.”

Whatever she had been expecting, it definitely hadn’t been a reply like that. Marinette found herself rendered speechless for the rest of the walk, her mind racing with the possibilities of what Leo could possibly mean by that.

They were early, but Tim was actually already inside, remarkably awake for so early in the morning. He sat at one of the tables by the window, and when he caught sight of her he waved wildly. (Marinette couldn’t tease him about it though, she and Leo waved just as enthusiastically.) She couldn’t help but smile. With a start to her day like this, how could it go wrong?

Taglist: @ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64 @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood @the-fusionist @river9noble @chocolatecatstheron @darkthunder1589 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @dast218 @k-poplunardreams @meanids @changelinggarden @ladybug-182 @pawsitivelymiraculous @zotinha456 @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @somebodyspersephone @spider-person95 @zestyzealot @toodaloo-kangaroo @kokotaru @kurogaya913 @tis-i-beanbandit @annapointone

Note:

Here's the next chapter, kids! I already posted about this, but I want your opinion as well. I have at least two more ideas for Mominette fics, would y'all be interested in me posting them? I'm still trying to ride through quarantine without seeing my nieces and nephews, so I need children in my life SOMEHOW. There’s a Daminette one and a Jasonette one. Let me know what y’all think. Also somehow I’ve almost got 500 followers??! I would like to do something as a thank you, just let me know if you guys have any ideas.

Also I’m totally fine with my brand becoming Mominette. I don’t know how much everyone else in this little niche fandom like it, but I also assume the majority of you aren’t single people in grad school that get lonely.

Anyway, let me know what you guys think, both for the Mominette fics and what you want for the 500 follower thing once I hit 500 followers!

#maribat #timinette #marinette x tim

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neil-jortson · 4 years

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It’s only a matter of time

This is a hc about what I think would happen to the foxes in quarantine. I made this as a part of the gift exchange from @aftgexchange for the Tumblr user @wishbonetea . It was an awesome experience to do this exchange and I hope to do it again!

Summary: a collection of ideas about how the foxes lives would have to adapt during quarantine

word count: 2k

The foxes in quarantine: a bullet point fic

The year is 2020. Matt, Kevin, Andrew, and Neil are all professional exy players. Neil and Andrew fought hard and finally got put on the same team that past season.

Dan is an assistant coach for a college team in the same city that Matt plays in. Nicky lives in Germany with Erik and Aaron is just finishing up his residency in medical school. Allison is a major fashion designer who donates more money than she keeps. Renee works with the peace corp and is currently out of the country. Everything is good.

Dan and Matt are expecting their first child in less than two months and are trying to clean up the spare room to begin making a nursery for the baby.

On the tv in another room plays a news reporter talking about a virus on the horizon in China. They don’t think much of it and continue about their days.

Andrew and Neil lived a fairly domestic life, one they never thought they would live, with two cats and a nice set of kitchen knives. (They were a house warming present from Aaron: “it’s ironic” he would say when asked why he purchased the set.)

When Andrew and Neil heard about the novel virus, they simply changed their in-depth arguments about a zombie outbreak to arguments on what to do in the event the virus becomes a big deal. Little did they know some of their “predictions” would turn out to be correct.

Everyone went about their normal lives just keeping an eye on the news before things seemed to change at the drop of a hat. The country was shutting its borders and not allowing flights in from other countries. There was even talk of cities going into lockdown.

Renee was trying to catch a flight home with the rest of her crew. When she made it back into the states, she found she had nowhere to go. Allison invited her to stay at her apartment in NYC. She was not aware of how long they were going to be stuck there (not that Allison was against sharing an apartment with a beautiful girl like Renee).

It became more real to the rest of them as the Exy season was postponed until further notice.

Kevin didn’t know what to do with himself and Neil. Was. Devastated.

It was only a matter of days before they began to get antsy about not going to the court daily. Neil and Kevin had shared anxious words as they hadn’t heard what the Moriyamas would think about them not receiving the normal amount of money this season. Andrew tried to put their minds at ease, but with no words of communication from the crime syndicate, they were getting worried.

Dan and Matt were probably the most stressed of the bunch. The information they had gathered was that most of the Foxes were in good shape to handle the virus even if they were to get sick, but there wasn’t any data on how the virus would affect pregnant women. Dan feared for the health of the baby because of this uncertainty. She and Matt decided that they would follow the government regulations for quarantine and that when groceries needed to be picked up, Matt would be the one to go out and get them.

Wymack’s thoughts were focused on his foxes and how they would be affected by the pandemic. He thought of Matt and Dan bringing a baby into the world at an unlikely time. He thought of Andrew and Neil who never could commit to quitting smoking (even if Neil just liked the smell). He worried about Aaron working in a hospital. For Nicky's mental health while being stuck at home and away from people. He worried that Kevin would start drinking again without the regime of Exy to keep him on track. He was concerned about Renee and Allison living in one of the worst cities to be stuck in when a pandemic hits. He thought about every person he had had as a fox before them and after them. He spent most of his time checking up on the foxes and the other portion of his time reaching out to organizations to see what they needed. He volunteered when he could and spread the word when he couldn’t.

As the foxes settled into their lives stuck at home and thousands of miles apart from one another, things settled into a new normal.

Andrew and Neil lived in quiet harmony when the quarantine first began. Neil went running every morning in a park that was not very crowded and when he would come home he would head straight to the shower. Eventually, Andrew convinced him to buy a treadmill because he was worried about Neil getting sick. Although, the way that he phrased it, it would seem he didn’t care either way. (Neil saw right through him)

Life for them was simple but draining.

The longer the quarantine went on, the worse off Neil and Andrew became.

Andrew found himself talking more and more with Betsy as being stuck at home was leaving him alone with his thoughts more than he would like. He felt old emotions creeping to the forefront of his mind as he was stuck in a two-bedroom apartment with two cats and a man he “hated.”

Being stuck at home for Neil was his own personal hell. He paced around the apartment often and felt no true release from running on the treadmill. Neil felt the same way he did when his mom and he were snowed in at a safe house in the mountains. He walked to the corners of each room and took stock of the items in the home. He felt himself get more and more on edge as the days went by.

Dan and Matt were better off when it came to mental health. It also helped that they tried not to take out their worries on one another, they were a team. They enjoyed each other's company and would try to hang out on opposite sides of the house as much as possible. They knew when they started to push each other's buttons and would back off when they started going too far.

Matt knew that Dan felt bad about not being able to leave the house so he got a kiddy pool for her to sit in outside. It wasn’t much, but Dan enjoyed the fact that Matt was thinking of her when he went out shopping. They spent many afternoons sitting in the tiny pool that barely fit them and laughing at the different antics of their crazy neighbors that day.

Nicky got a hold of everyone's schedule and decided that they should do group facetime calls every week. It was really hard to find a good time because everyone lived in different time zones and Aaron had a rotating doctor’s schedule, but Nicky was able to find 45 minutes a week when everyone was awake and not at work.

Dan and Matt had finally found proper places to put all of the items that had been in the nursery and were just beginning to start the vacuum cleaner when they heard an alarm go off on Dan’s phone.

It was time for them to talk with their old team.

Everyone slowly joined the call and Nicky was just as enthusiastic in welcoming every person who joined.

Nicky was especially delighted when Kevin answered the call and the foxes came to find out his hair had grown out longer than he ever let it before. (He claimed it wasn’t professional to have longer hair but he looked better than ever with the length.)

When Allison joined the call, some of the foxes were surprised to see Renee sitting right beside her. Renne’s hair had grown out and Dan noticed that there was a distinct line from where she had been bleaching her hair

Dan asked, “Hey Renee, what are you going to do with your hair?”

Renee responded with “I’m really not sure yet, but I think I want to grow it out with my natural color”

Allison whispered something in Renee's ear and she blushed.

All of the foxes took notice of this and decided that maybe it was time to settle one of the few remaining bets from college.

Neil and Andrew were the last to join the call and they seemed pissed off. Right before they noticed they were a part of the call, they seemed to be arguing in Russian. They quickly noticed they were on camera and stopped arguing but they wouldn’t really look at one another.

Nicky asked them how they were doing which Neil responded with “We’re fine” and Andrew scoffed at the word.

Nicky knew better than to dig around in their personal business so he let it drop and began to ask Aaron and Katelynn how their dog was, was it still cute, can they show it on the camera?

They responded by turning the camera to let everyone see the sleeping puppy at the edge of their bed. This answered two of the questions because as everyone could see, the dog was still very cute. They told them about a run into the vet they had to make because “the little fiend” has a knack for eating things he’s not supposed to.

Dan and Matt told everyone how the pregnancy was going and told them the tale of woe trying to find the perfect crib for the baby’s room.

“When it arrived, we opened up the package and it was bright green! Who in their right mind is going to put their baby in a bright green crib? It’s ridiculous is what it is” complained Matt when Dan had finished telling them how long the package had taken to arrive.

While everyone was talking Andrew and Neil had seemed to calm down and Neil had placed his head on Andrew’s shoulder. Things weren’t always sunshine and daisies but they weren’t really mad at each other when they fought.

After everyone had caught up there was a lull in the conversation that Neil began to fill. He told them about the time they had to rescue King Fluffkins. They had gotten King recently just a few months prior to the quarantine coming into effect. This was the first time that the team had heard Neil say the words “King Fluffkins” out loud. It is needless to say that they laughed for a long while hearing Neil say the ridiculous name the team had given to their cat. When they calmed down they listened to Neil explain how King had gotten out of the window they kept partially open for smoking. Andrew had to hold on to Neil’s waist as Neil propelled himself out the window to get a hold of the cat at the edge of the window sill. King had dug her claws in and Neil almost fell out of the window. They got her inside but put a lock on the window to ensure she didn’t make her way out there again.

That story pushed their time to when they needed to say goodbye. Aaron’s shift started in under an hour and he needed to get to work. They all said their goodbyes and set up a time for the following week.

It helped everyone to talk amongst themselves and to hear what had been going on while they were at home. They were all worried about what was going on, but it seemed as though they were becoming more connected, even across the vast distance.

It was only a matter of time before this came to pass and Neil and Andrew would get to see Dan and Matt’s baby.

It was only a matter of time before the exy season started up once more and the Moriyamas demanded a larger cut from Neil’s salaries for the break he was on during the pandemic.

It was only a matter of time before Nicky could come and visit the twins for Christmas.

It was only a matter of time before all of the foxes felt their lives returning to a slightly new normal.

It was only a matter of time.

#the foxes in quarantine #it would turn their world upside down but these kids will be alright #aftg fic exchange #aftg #all for the game #tfc #the foxhole court #neil josten #andrew minyard #andriel #matt boyd #dan wilds #allison reynolds #renee walker #hints of renison #nicky hemmick #aaron minyard #kevin day #david wymack

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recurring-polynya · 8 months

Note

#3 please (what’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?)! I’ve always wanted to know what your own personal favorite story was :)

I generally consider Hold On, Hold On to be my best fanfic, the one I am most proud of, and the one I am always trying to get people to read. I think my favorite is a toss up between Call Me Back When the War is Over and What We Do with Our Hearts. Obviously they each stand on their own well enough, but to me, they feel like just one 250k long story (possibly because they're both so rambly that they just ramble into each other), which is why it's hard to choose between them.

I've probably re-read Portions for Foxes the most times, but I feel bad to call it my favorite, because absolutely no one is having a good time in Portions for Foxes.

#fanfic ask meme #both call me back and hearts involved an incredible amount of blood sweat and tears so i guess it's good that i ended up happy with them 😁

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imaginaryelle · 4 years

Text

Fic: And One He Writes Himself

(also yesssss. \o/ headcanon, but even though everyone blames wwx for the new rules, lwj going off script 100% freaked the clan out way more and imo would make the clan elders far more likely to chip out some more lines on the wall than anything wwx could do alone, lol)

@vera-invenire, here it is! Thanks very much for the prompt, I had a lot of fun writing for it :D Many thanks also to @morphia-writes and @miyuki4s for their wonderful beta work, you are all awesome people.

Tags: CQL-verse, Chief Cultivator Lan Wangji, Wangxian, five times fic, pining, getting together, first kiss, long distance relationship (with meet-ups)

Length: ~6k (AO3 link here!)

1: Do Not Use Clan Techniques Inappropriately

To His Excellency, the esteemed Chief Cultivator, Hanguang-jun, the letter begins.

How will you ever know which letters are mine if I start them so formally? I promise, I promise, never again. Forever onwards you will be only Lan Zhan in letters, no matter what I have to write on the address.

But Lan Zhan, did you know? I’ve heard the most outrageous rumor lately. It’s the talk of traveling merchants and wine houses everywhere that you used the Lan Clan silence spell during the last cultivation conference. On every sect leader! Lan Zhan is so cruel. How could you do such a thing—and not invite me to see it? A baker in Yingchuan said Sect Leader Ouyang turned redder than his robes, and that Sect Leader Yao risked his throat and mouth still trying to speak. I’m tempted to call on Jiang Cheng and extract a full account from him, but we’d probably only fight again. Especially if you used it on him, too! Perhaps Jin Ling will be more accommodating for his long-lost uncle. Can I even think to trust a version of the tale from our dear Sect Leader Nie? I’m sure he managed to keep his voice unhindered, sly fox that he’s become.

It looks as if the rain is letting up, so my caravan will be leaving soon. I’ve heard all my life how beautiful Kuizhou is and now I finally have the time to visit. Have you seen it? I’ll send sketches of the landscape in my next letter; if you’ve been, we can compare notes, and if you haven’t perhaps they’ll help you decide if the rumors are true. For now, I can only offer this picture of your Gusu mountains. Think of it as a promise that I’ll come see them again someday.

Yours,

Wei Ying

P.S. I know you won’t tell me the story yourself, but I plan to beg you for it anyway. A tale like this is too good to keep behind your lips.

Lan Wangji reads it twice, committing the ebullient flow of Wei Ying’s writing to memory. The drawing is inked in a looser hand than he remembers from portraits and rabbits so many years ago, but he recognizes the landscape as the ridge on which they bid each other farewell, as seen from the trail towards the Qingling mountains.

He sets it to the side, smooths it carefully, and tries to take up his work again. The Jin Clan’s collected accounts of the last twenty years are neatly stacked before him, the white-gold bindings gleaming in yellow lantern light. He even manages to open one before his mind flits away, following the swooping energy of Wei Ying’s brush strokes into the night. He puts down the ledger, snuffs out the lantern, and stands. Perhaps he will check on the rabbits before curfew.

There is no announcement to go with the new rule listed in the main courtyard; it simply appeared on the Wall one morning, and then in all the library copies on the day after. But rumor swirls, of course, even in this place where gossip is prohibited. Perhaps especially here, behind white-and-blue sleeves in the juniors’ classes and through barely-moving-lips in the crafting, sword and music halls. As seems to be happening ever more frequently in the past few months, the name on the wind is Hanguang-jun.

Lan Wangji walks the wide, wandering paths between the back mountain and the Jingshi with the crisp folds of Wei Ying’s letter pressed between his yi and hanfu, over his heart. “Inappropriately” is a qualifier with more leniency than he is used to hearing from the Lan Clan elders. He wonders, with a sudden surge of surprise, if they are just as unsettled by and unprepared for his appointment to the position of Chief Cultivator as everyone else. Or perhaps it is simply that they have all attended more cultivation conferences between them than he ever wants to imagine. He can’t be the first Lan to have such an impulse. Loudly proclaimed falsehoods are, after all, exactly what the silencing spell was created to counter.

Yes. He is secure in his judgment. He has no doubts.

If the Sect Leaders cannot restrain themselves to speaking the truth, they will not speak to him at all.

2. Do Not Bother the Kitchen Staff

It’s supposed to be a surprise. A good surprise, for Wei Ying’s first visit to Cloud Recesses since Lan Wangji’s appointment as Chief Cultivator. He’s been working on it for weeks, ever since he received the letter declaring Wei Ying’s intent to visit for Qixi: he knows that Wei Ying’s greatest complaint about Cloud Recesses is the food, and so he will make certain Wei Ying has at least one meal more fitting to his tastes.

He knows it’s foolish, wishful thinking, but the idea that if he could just fix this one thing Wei Ying would stay has snuck into his mind, and so he purchases dried chilies and their oil from Yunmeng and spicy peppercorns and ginger from Caiyi, and rises before five every day for two weeks so that he might visit the kitchens and learn enough to prepare something simple.

If the kitchen staff are curious about his presence, they never let him see it. Li Jing seems pleased enough to teach him—stern and exacting, but never cruel—and pronounces the dishes of hot clear noodles, freshly pickled mushrooms and spicy tofu soup Lan Wangji produces “acceptable,” which is the highest praise she ever gives anyone. He makes them again the afternoon Wei Ying arrives, so that they will be ready for the evening banquet. He leaves a preservation talisman over the tray, and a note: For Wei Wuxian’s Return.

He doesn’t have time to check on it again. Wei Ying arrives like a spring storm, wild and sudden and casting the quiet paths of Cloud Recesses into disarray. He flits here and there like a blown leaf, greeting Lan Sizhui with an enthusiasm that violates at least three Clan principles before teasing Lan Jingyi with familiar humor and then complaining aloud—and loudly—that the rabbits still don’t like him. Never once does he venture further away than the reach of Lan Wangji’s shadow, and rarely even so far as that, but it is still not quite enough to quiet the tangled threads that pull and knot in Lan Wangji’s center. The press of paper against his chest is a habit born of a new kind of waiting, and now that Wei Ying is here, in front of him, the warmth it brings is more distraction than comfort.

Evening comes quickly, sweeping over Cloud Recesses with a cool, creeping fog and painting the mountain peaks in lively shades of red. Wei Ying tips his head back to watch a pair of cranes fly overhead and Lan Wangji watches the tilt of his mouth as he smiles and the line of his neck as he turns and waits.

He would have preferred a private dinner in the Jingshi, where Wei Ying might pair his special meal with his favorite wine and there would be no audience to comment on a lingering touch of fingertips as the cup passed between them. But it is not to be: his uncle is eating alone to aid his recovery after several days’ work refreshing the outer wards and his brother is still in seclusion, and so it falls on Lan Wangji to be present in the main dining hall for the evening meal.

Wei Ying pouts at this revelation but he joins the crowd without much protest—with so little in the way of objections, in fact, that Lan Wangji is certain he has some small rebellion in mind. As he is a single note of black and red in a chorus of white and blue, whatever it is is sure to be noticeable, but perhaps the food will be distraction enough. It is at least different from what Wei Ying has been served in Cloud Recesses before. Different enough that he frowns at it, and then opens his mouth to speak before he catches the slight shake of Lan Wangji’s head: silence during meals. Instead he fishes a whole dried pepper out of his soup for inspection and shoots Lan Wangji a questioning glance. The look of glee on his face when Lan Wangji nods is so captivating that Lan Wangji hardly even looks at his own portion before he starts eating.

It’s not that he doesn’t notice the unexpected added spice; his mouth burns after the very first bite, but Wei Ying’s surprised pleasure is worth any momentary discomfort. Even if it means he can’t actually taste most of the meal. It’s only when Lan Jingyi makes a faint choking noise that he realizes anyone else’s food has been affected. He can see the moment Wei Ying notices it too—his lips curl in like he’s clamped them together with his teeth trying not to smile, and his eyes widen even as he determinedly doesn’t look at anyone. Lan Wangji keeps his own eyes lowered as he examines the room. He is abruptly thankful that his uncle is not present, but many of the other elders are not so lucky. Several have already gestured for more tea or rice, an action that quickly ripples through the attending juniors as well.

The prohibition against talking during meals has never felt so smotheringly present as in this moment, watching faces turn red behind fiercely-clutched cups of tea. It’s Lan Bai who stands from his table and glares at Wei Ying, his face transformed more with emotion than the spicy food. He doesn’t speak—silence during meals—but he flaps his sleeve derisively and starts to sweep contemptuously past them, and Lan Wangji knows he will go straight to the Grandmaster, and then to the Sect Leader if he is still unsatisfied, because he always does. It will be an unpleasant waste of everyone’s time and an unnecessary stress on both of them because Lan Wangji already knows this incident is highly unlikely to repeat itself. It can only have happened at all in Li Jing’s absence, which means she has been called away earlier than expected for her grandchild’s birth in Caiyi.

“Do not be picky about food,” he reminds Lan Bai, and even the clicking of chopsticks stops in the wake of it. Lan Bai looks so affronted that for a moment Lan Wangji thinks he will actually argue the point.

Anything that might have been said is promptly forgotten as Wei Ying hurriedly stands and runs from the hall. He makes it just outside the doors before laughter bursts out of him, loud and joyous and likely audible to the whole of Cloud Recesses. Lan Wangji holds Lan Bai’s gaze. He will not have this falling on Wei Ying’s shoulders, and he is no longer just the Second Jade of Lan, too young and too-headstrong, who spends too much time away from home. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Lan Sizhui nudge Lan Jingyi, and both pick up their chopsticks. Slowly, the normal sounds of dinner resume, if with a great deal more tea than usual. Slowly, Lan Bai manages a rather stiff bow and excuses himself without further dramatics.

After he’s gone Wei Ying returns, mirth still spilling from every movement. He finishes his meal without speaking but it’s clear, as cultivators file out of the hall in silent rows, that he has plenty to say.

“That was—” He laughs again in the quiet of the Jingshi. “Lan Zhan, I can hardly believe someone so righteous as you would do such a thing. And to so many at once! Do you know how many times I tried to get into the kitchens when I was a student here?”

“It was unintentional,” Lan Wangji admits as he pours wine into Wei Ying’s cup. The incident is, in retrospect, rather reminiscent of a childish prank, and he should not be surprised to learn that Wei Ying might have planned something similar. “My preparation of your portion was not meant as a general instruction.”

Wei Ying accepts the cup with a soft brush of fingertips and a grateful smile, and then stills with it halfway to his mouth.

“Lan Zhan.” He sets the cup down with a sharp click. “Are you—Lan Zhan you made that? You—” his gaze drops for a moment and then he slides around the corner of the table to sit beside Lan Wangji instead of across from him. “You cooked that? For me?” His eyes are very wide, all traces of humor gone.

Lan Wangji hesitates, his fingers curling deeper in his sleeves. Perhaps his confidence was misplaced.

“Was it unpalatable?” he asks, because of course that’s possible. He hardly knows what the dishes are supposed to taste like to someone who actively enjoys them.

“It was delicious,” Wei Ying assures him. He reaches out with both hands and finds Lan Wangji’s fingers, and then his wrist. “Perfect.” He laughs, the sound a little watery. “I can’t believe—” he squeezes Lan Wangji’s hand, “—no one’s cooked just for me since—” he breaks off and turns away. His breath shudders through his frame.

Lan Wangji turns his wrist and links Wei Ying’s fingers through his own. This is perhaps not the reaction he hoped for, but he is hardly unfamiliar with the ways grief can lie in wait to ambush the most vigilant of minds.

“Sorry.” Wei Ying’s grip tightens. He manages to meet Lan Wangji’s eyes before ducking his head again, his chin tucked to his chest. “Sorry, sorry, this is—I don’t know why I—”

“It is alright, Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji guides his head back up and wipes the tears from Wei Ying’s cheek with his sleeve. “I’m here,” he promises. For you, always here for you, goes unspoken, caught somewhere deep in his chest.

Wei Ying’s face crumples. “Lan Zhan,” he says, the syllables half strangled on a sob, and he leans first into Lan Wangji’s shoulder and then sinks lower, until his head rests on Lan Wangji’s forearm above their joined hands, and he cries. It is not a particularly comfortable position, but Lan Wangji does not protest, even when Wei Ying’s tears soak through his sleeves to dampen his skin. He is, for a moment, at something of a loss for what to do. A faded memory comes to him of another night in this room, so long ago it’s more feeling than image: his mother’s soothing warm hands on his back and soft humming above him. And then another memory: Lan Zhan, won’t you sing for me echoing back at him from two decades passed.

He strokes Wei Ying’s shuddering shoulders, and he hums, soft and soothing, and he holds Wei Ying’s hand until he quiets, wrung out and limp with exhaustion.

Tomorrow he will rise early and prepare another meal for Wei Ying’s breakfast, shuttered away from curious eyes and open judgment. Tomorrow there will be music, and stories of mountains and rivers they never saw in their youth. Tomorrow they will walk the paths of his home side-by-side, and visit Little Apple and the rabbits, and he will watch Wei Ying revel in the afternoon sun. Tomorrow, together, they will build a lantern and release a promise to the heavens.

Tonight, he unbinds Wei Yings hair and combs it smooth with long, slow motions. Tonight he guides Wei Ying carefully to the bed and removes his boots and sees him settled under the blankets. Tonight he holds Wei Ying’s hand in his own and sits vigil against any specters of memory or dream that might come to haunt him, and for tonight—for tonight, that is enough.

3. Do Not Be Overly Affectionate in Public

“Pssst. Wei-qianbei.”

Wei Wuxian stops, much to Little Apple’s annoyance, and lets one hand slide down to Chenqing as he inspects his surroundings more closely. Cloud Recesses’ main gate is just around this bend in the path, and sometimes he thinks the donkey might be looking forward to their arrival even more than he is.

“Wei-qianbei.” A flash of white on the mountainous side of the path reveals Lan Jingyi, stumbling down to meet him with Lan Sizhui at his side and a gaggle of other young Lans in his wake.

“A-Yuan,” Wei Wuxian greets Lan Sizhui with a grin, “and so many upright young Lans. Whatever could you all be doing outside your own warded walls?”

Lan Sizhui steps forward. “Wei-qianbei,” he says with a bow, proper as anything, “before you meet with Hanguang-jun, there’s something you should see.”

Wei Wuxian purses his lips, considering. “How many rules are you planning to break with this venture?” he asks.

“Um. None.” Lan Sizhui looks back at his companions and then nods firmly. “It’s actually the Wall of Discipline we want to show you.”

Wei Wuxian clicks his tongue in disappointment. Youthful creativity squandered once again. “Really, A-Yuan, don’t they teach you Lans anything about negotiations? This proposal is not at all appealing to me. I’ve seen enough of those rules to last a lifetime. Or two.”

“We know that.” Lan Jingyi folds his arms over his chest and smiles like he has something to be smug about. “But we think you’ll want to see this one.”

Hm. There’s a bit of cunning in Lan Jingyi’s expression that Wei Wuxian must admit is refreshing to see in a Lan. And he’ll have to walk past the rules anyway, on his way to the Jingshi. It can’t really hurt to take a look.

“You see?” He gestures at Lan Jingyi. “This is much more intriguing. Take note.” He ponders for another moment, then nods. “Alright,” he agrees, nudging Little Apple back into motion. “But it had better be quick.”

They get some curious looks from the cultivators on gate duty, and it takes some time to get Little Apple settled, but soon enough they’re in the main courtyard, staring at the engraved hunk of rock that dictates so much of life in Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian isn’t certain what he’s supposed to be looking at. Yes, there’s a new rule: Do not be overly affectionate in public. He’s just not certain what was so important about it to merit a special visit.

“It was added months ago,” Lan Wangji says, appearing at his shoulder. “Shortly after your departure.”

Wei Wuxian looks up at him, searching for some hint of what he’s supposed to be understanding here. Lan Wangji is doing his best impression of an implacable jade statue, which generally means he’s having some very pointed thoughts indeed. Wei Wuxian leans in to jostle his shoulder and gets a faintly amused deepening of the corner of Lan Wangji’s mouth in response. Success.

“How long was that, a few breaths?” Lan Jingyi asks to their right, too-loud as ever. “A count of ten?”

“I’m not certain that breaks it,” Lan Sizhui says, softer, “You’ve never been punished.”

That prompts Wei Wuxian to watch Lan Wangji more closely, waiting for confirmation or denial. But surely not. Surely they couldn’t mean...

Slowly, ever so slightly, Lan Wangji nods.

Wei Wuxian stares at the characters so carefully etched into the rock and struggles to contain his laughter.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, trying to hide his snickering behind his sleeve. “Lan Zhan, they can’t be serious. This sounds like they think I’m going to ravish you in the central courtyard.” It’s a joke. Very much a joke. He would happily ravish Lan Wangji in private, of course, if he could ever be certain Lan Wangji was interested in such pastimes, but—

“It’s not you they’re worried about,” Lan Jingyi says, though his smirk slides off his face almost as soon as it’s out of his mouth. Lan Wangji’s gaze settles on him for a moment, until Wei Wuxian draws his attention back by tugging at his sleeve because that—that doesn’t make sense.

“Lan Zhan,” he says. “Is this—this can’t be about Qixi. Can it?”

Lan Wangji looks away. The tips of his ears are turning pink.

“It is?” Wei Wuxian thinks hard, but he can’t remember anything from his last visit that would be drastic enough to prompt a new rule as a response. He frowns. “But we only built a lantern together. Building a lantern is hardly debauchery in public.” Even if it had felt like a bit more than just building a lantern at the time, with the mix of hope and nostalgia rising in his chest.

“Wei Ying is shameless,” Lan Wangji observes.

“I was a perfect gentleman!” Wei Wuxian protests. Well, alright, perhaps he had been overly touchy in his affection for Lan Sizhui. Or overly loud, at least. And there had been, admittedly, several moments where he’d had to to sternly restrain himself from kissing Lan Wangji in full view of all his elders and students. He had restrained himself precisely because he hadn’t wanted to spend the precious after-dinner hours of the festival writing lines or banished to kneel somewhere as some sort of penance. And also because even he wasn’t so shameless as to subject his first kiss to such a display. What if he did it wrong? Getting it wrong in front of Lan Wangji would be bad enough, but the whole of his clan as well? It hardly bears thinking about.

And yet, Lan Jingyi had said…

Wei Wuxian does have some well-worn memories of that time, of Lan Wangji’s steady presence at his side and the jumping, choking pulse of hope and want thrumming under his skin. There had been moments. When Lan Wangji plucked leaves out of his hair after an afternoon’s game with some of the younger Lan disciples. When their hands had touched over and over and over again as they built their shared lantern. The way Lan Wangji had looked at him after they’d released it. The mornings, when Lan Wangji presented him with breakfast made especially for Wei Wuxian, and the evenings too, when they played together, sharing songs both old and new, or simply sat together in easy quiet with a cup of Emperor’s Smile passed between them: one to pour, one to drink, fingers brushing. Moments when he’d thought—maybe that kiss was going to happen.

Maybe Lan Wangji had thought that too. Maybe—maybe he was waiting for Wei Wuxian to move first, maybe—

“Lan Zhan.” He reaches for Lan Wangji’s sleeve again. Lets his fingers slide down to linger on Lan Wangji’s own.

Lan Wangji turns, just slightly. Just enough to actually be facing him. There’s a quickly muffled noise to their right, which Wei Wuxian resolutely ignores.

“Lan Zhan,” he repeats, softer. “I really… I really do like you.” He shifts closer.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s fingers clench around his hand, and Wei Wuxian squeezes back.

“I like you so much,” he says, “and I wish...” He drops his gaze to Lan Wangji’s lips. “I wish...” His words dry up. All he can do is squeeze Lan Wangji’s hand tighter and stare at him and hope that—that his intent is clear. That Lan Wangji… understands and—

And then Lan Wangji is kissing him, moving their linked hands up to Wei Wuxian’s jaw and holding him still with Bichen pressed against his side and kissing him, and Wei Wuxian suddenly remembers the rules—rules Lan Wangji is breaking! For him!—and their audience, and he can’t stop the blush that burns on his face and neck but he’s not going to stop kissing Lan Wangji either.

“That definitely breaks it, right?” Lan Jingyi says in a whisper that is likely louder than he thinks it is, and Lan Wangji pulls away.

Wei Wuxian, embarrassingly, whimpers a bit, which turns into a only-somewhat aborted exclamation of surprise as Lan Wangji turns and starts dragging him along in the general direction of the Jingshi.

“Lan Zhan!” He jogs a little to keep up. He wonders how many rules they are breaking now—they’re not exactly running, but they’re certainly moving faster than usual. He’s definitely making noise. Is kissing someone still an impulsive act if he’s spent months and months thinking about it? And he’s quite certain that anyone looking at his expression, at least, would mark him down for “excessively happy” because the smile he’s wearing feels like it’s been stamped onto his face.

“Lan Zhan!” He stops in the Jingshi’s doorway and clings to the wall a little and waits for Lan Wangji to look at him along the taut line of their still-joined hands.

“What is it?” Lan Wangji’s voice is unexpectedly flat, and his grip on Wei Wuxian’s hand tightens as his eyes drop to that point of connection. As if he is perhaps afraid Wei Wuxian will try to slip free now.

“I just wanted to say, it is an honor to break the Lan Clan rules with you.” Wei Wuxian’s grin widens as Lan Wangji’s gaze narrows. He loves that glare so much. So, so much it feels like emotion is going to burst out of him like a breaking dam. “And,” he adds, gleeful and almost giddy, “I’m happy to help you break that one again any time you like.”

There is a moment of considering silence.

“Perhaps,” Lan Wangji allows, a smile pulling at the edges of his lips, and Wei Wuxian steps over the threshold and lets himself be pulled in like the moon pulls the tide—surging, crashing, and eternal.

4. Do Not Speak to Wei Wuxian

There is a new rule on the Wall of Discipline. Lan Wangji glares at it, which has little effect except to make his lover cling to his sleeve and laugh at him.

“Unjust,” Lan Wangji mutters. The rule has, admittedly, come in the wake of three separate disturbances to the Lan Sect’s calm, quiet existence, but Wei Ying is not to blame for them. If anything, it had been Lan Wangji himself who asked his young students the question: Who is just, and who is evil? Who is wrong and who is right? Who decides what is black and what is white? And how will you tell the difference outside these walls?

Just because Wei Ying is present in Cloud Recesses does not make him responsible for disruptions, even if he does take a certain amount of glee in watching such debates unfold.

Wei Ying’s glee is currently threatening to completely undo him as he collapses under the force of his own humor, more and more of his weight coming to bear where he holds Lan Wangji’s wrist.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, laughing enough to be hardly intelligible, “this is my favorite rule.”

Lan Wangji steadies him and waits, patiently, for an explanation. There usually is an explanation even if it is not always something Lan Wangji himself would consider reasonable or logical. Wei Ying tries to speak three times, each instance interrupted by a fresh peal of laughter before he finally heaves a few calming breaths and stands straight.

“Lan Zhan,” he says, wiping tears from his eyes, “with this rule, any time your uncle yells at me, he must break it. And the other elders! How will they punish me for talking at meals and running in the courtyards if they can’t speak to me?”

Lan Wangji’s lips twitch. “Ridiculous,” he says.

Wei Ying smiles, wide and exuberant. “Yes, yes, yes, so many of your rules are ridiculous,” he agrees, which is not what Lan Wangji meant, but he is well familiar with Wei Ying’s opinion in this matter. “But Lan Zhan,” he continues, “this one is silly. If only speaking to me were such a danger then you, you! Hanguang-jun, the Second Jade of Lan, the Chief Cultivator! You would be entirely beyond hope.” He shakes his head, incredulous and dismissive. Matter closed.

The implication, Lan Wangji is certain, is meant to be that he is obviously still an upstanding member of the Lan Clan, committed to its principles. This is true, but is perhaps truest in Wei Ying’s eyes, and in his own self-perception, rather than that view belonging to his Clan’s elders; Lan Wangji’s interpretation of the rules differs from his Uncle’s, and he knows the friction that causes is unlikely to resolve itself quickly. And then there are the rules he breaks willingly, repeatedly. The rules he is breaking right now, standing here with Wei Ying without attempting to hide either his affection for the man before him or his critique of an elder’s decisions. Speaking to him, as is apparently now prohibited. Lan An’s principles—and his exceptions—are well known to the Lan Clan elders, but Lan Wangji is still certain his ancestor would be much more forgiving of his transgressions than his living relatives are.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying leans into him, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do you want to know the best thing about this rule?”

Lan Wangji nods, and Wei Ying presses his lips tightly together, perhaps suppressing another laugh.

“Lan Zhan,” he whispers, leaning ever closer, until his hair brushes Lan Wangji’s ear and his breath is warm on Lan Wangji’s face. “Just think,” he says, conspiratorial and jubilant oh-so-dear, “I can never be punished for breaking it.”

5. Do Not Vandalize Sect Property

Their belongings are packed, the weather is clear, and Wei Ying is eager to return to the road. Lan Wangji, if pressed—by Wei Ying, in a quiet moment caught between breaths, private to themselves—might allow that he is also pleased to be leaving Cloud Recesses, at least for a time. To go night hunting again, to use his cultivation skills where they are most necessary, and to extract himself from the incessant politics of squabbling clans. To spend time with Wei Ying, and only Wei Ying, and to see the world as Wei Ying sees it. He has dedicated months of planning to this journey. Weeks of work to guarantee that they will not be interrupted, and that the cultivation world will weather his absence without more than the usual level of strife between sects.

Still, he stops in the courtyard, before the Wall.

“I will meet you at the back gates,” he says.

Wei Ying shoots him a curious look. “Is this about whatever had you talking to Zewu-jun for days and days?”

“I will meet Wei Ying at the gates,” Lan Wangji repeats. This topic is only tangentially related to matters he has discussed with his brother recently, and it only concerns Wei Ying in the way that most of Lan Wangji’s life concerns Wei Ying—his thoughts ever returning to him like the flow of rivers into the sea. There will be time to inform him of this later, when they are alone on the little-used mountain path to the southern provinces. He retrieves a bundle of bok choy and carrot tops from his sleeve and holds it out for Wei Ying to take. “For the rabbits.”

Wei Ying pouts, but he takes both the vegetables and the direction. “Secret Lan Clan business,” he mutters. He frowns and shakes the carrot tops at Lan Wangji. “You could have told me you were planning something.”

Lan Wangji could have, it’s true, but he knows Wei Ying. Even the hint of something unusual is enough to keep his interest for days—often long days, featuring frequent leading questions—ambushes from a probing enemy. And this is Clan business. Clan politics. Involving Wei Ying even as an observer courts resentment at best and chaos at worst. Wei Ying himself at least seems to realize the same. He sighs and waves the topic away.

“If you take too long the rabbits might start to like me best,” he teases instead, turning away and deliberately avoiding Lan Wangji’s skepticism.

Lan Wangji watches him until he’s out of sight and waits several slow, steady moments longer. He has gathered an audience, eyes watching from latticed windows, just-barely-open doors, and entirely-too-convenient conversations stopped just far enough away to allow observation. But that has been true of his life for years now—eyes wherever he goes, whatever he does. Here, now, perhaps it will actually be useful.

He approaches the wall and runs two fingers along the top edge, where he can feel the protective layers of generations of cultivators’ wards and talismans sunk into the stone. He could break them, with enough effort, or unravel them with the right array, but it won’t be necessary. What he has planned should not interfere with any of them. He steps back, pulls a talisman from his sleeve, and centers himself. He’s still not certain the words are exactly right, but they are the closest he could get.

It’s easier than expected. Perhaps due to something in his bloodline, or his cultivation level, or the memories he can bring to bear, stretching back past this handful of years, past Wei Ying’s resurrection, past his death, past Lan Wangji’s own injuries and seclusion, stretching back across long years to a childhood spent etching rules into his bones in the hope of one more afternoon listening to his mother talk and laugh and sing.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps the Clan has simply depended more on custom and reverence to protect the Wall than he anticipated. Perhaps they thought to ward only against actual damage. Whatever the reason, it is only the work of a few heartbeats to write the seal, focus his intent, and let it go.

The ink shines against the stone, stark against the carvings: An attempt to control others is a loss of self.

It won’t scrub off, or be easily banished. It will wear away with time, and rain, and wind, as all the world does. It will last weeks, at least. Perhaps months. Long enough. He suspects, in the utter stillness that the courtyard has suddenly become, that even a day would be long enough.

He does not look at the watchers in the windows, or across the courtyard. He turns and walks away, looking only forward. To Wei Ying, who is sitting on the ground near the back mountain gate with a leaf of bok choy in one hand as he attempts to coax a rabbit ever closer.

Wei Ying, who pouts as Lan Wangji approaches and the rabbits immediately lose interest in his offering of treats, instead gathering around Lan Wangji’s ankles. Wei Ying, who stands and tosses the leaf aside with a disappointed sigh more befitting of a child than a cultivator of his talent.

“Important Clan business done with?” he asks.

“Mn.” Lan Wangji gently nudges the rabbits away and steps over them, joining Wei Ying and Little Apple at the gate’s threshold. Wei Ying nods a few times, like he’s not really aware of his actions.

“You know, Lan Zhan.” His voice is oddly low, the words stilted. His hands move aimlessly in the space between them. “If you’d rather stay here—if you don’t want to come—”

“I want to, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji assures him before that line of thought can go any further. He takes Little Apple’s lead and holds Wei Ying’s gaze. “The paths we walk do not need to be lonely ones.”

Wei Ying smiles, his eyes overbright, and something between a sigh and a laugh bursts from his lips. “Lan Zhan,” he says in something closer to his normal voice, “you just say these things and I can’t—” His hands rise warm and familiar to Lan Wangji’s jaw, and their lips meet, and Lan Wangji stands still and steady and kisses Wei Ying for as long as it takes for Little Apple to become agitated and shove her head into Wei Ying’s hips, pushing him back. Based on the displeased scrunching of Wei Ying’s face as he glares down at his donkey, Lan Wangji is certain they would both agree it wasn’t nearly long enough. But there will be more chances. More long afternoons, more starlit nights and soft morning sunrises to share. He watches Wei Ying shake his head fondly and rub the donkey’s ears. Watches him grip Chenqing at his belt and turn with a smile.

“Alright, Lan Zhan,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling with good humor and excitement and what Lan Wangji has tentatively started to think of as love, right there on his face for the whole world to see. “Where should we go first?”

#wangxian #the untamed #chen qing ling #lan wangji #wei wuxian #cql #alex writes

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sugamoonv · 5 years

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I’ll Still Stay

Hello! Can I please request a Poly!Mate Hybrid!BTS OT7 x Mate human!female reader imagine where she goes to the shelter, planning on adopting one hybrid, but then when she sees how badly the poor hybrids are treating, she ends up bringing home 7 hybrids (BTS). BTS are all each other’s mate and see that she’s there mate too. She takes care of them and they take care of her, lots of love to go around! All 8 fall in love! They are all very protective of her + hugs + kisses + cuddles and love.💜🤟

Pairings: Hybrid!BTS x Reader/ OT7 x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Preface: Wolf Hybrid!Namjoon / Rottweiler Hybrid!Jimin / Siamese Hybrid!Yoongi / Golden Retriever Hybrid!Taehyung / Bear Hybrid!Jin / Bunny Hybrid!Jungkook / Red Fox Hybrid!Hoseok

A.N: I know this took a while, so I hope it’s good. I may have turned this request into a gateway for a series/multipart because I love poly hybrid fics. So yeah- here’s the first installment.

Masterlist > Next

“I’m going to adopt a hybrid.”

Your friend's eyes widen and they scramble as they get out of their chair to follow you.

“Wait, what? Now?!”

“Yeah. Why Not?” you look at Hoshi with innocent eyes as you grab your jacket from the hanger rack in the entrance of the office you work in. Small conversations and the clicking of keyboards play over yours’ and Hoshi’s conversation.

“Because we’re still at work? And you literally just decided you wanted a hybrid. Are you even ready for one?”

The company you worked for paid its employees well, especially those that specialized in specific sectors. You and Hoshi worked in public relations and as younger employees, you were in charge of helping create ads that appealed to your age group. It was a difficult company to get hired into and was still competitive while working, but was one of the most lucrative jobs available where you lived, and because of this, that meant that most of the people here had lots of disposable money. A majority of them eventually decided their extra money would be best going to getting a hybrid and now you were joining the ranks.

“Chill. I haven’t used any sick days in months, so I doubt they’re really going to get mad if I leave early today,” you negate as you shrug on your jacket. “Vernon told me about this really nice adoption center he got Dino at and he said that lately, they’ve been getting a lot of hybrids. So I figured I might as well go now.”

Hoshi sucks in air between his teeth. “Fine, but if you get in trouble with Mark, that’s on you-”

“Obviously.”

Hoshi’s eyebrows straighten as he tilts his head and gives you a deadpan look. “IF you really are serious about this, there’s a couple of non-profit shelters that you can go to too. And I’ve been hearing that a lot of people are putting their hybrids up for adoption to get new ones. Go to one of the shelters and save money by adopting a hybrid. It’s going to be better considering you’ve never had a hybrid before and the hybrids at the shelters won’t need as much adjusting to having an owner.”

It was true. The adoption centers that typically ran for profit offered hybrids that were fresh out of training school and had never had an owner before. There were even a few places that had hybrids under 18 for adoption for those that weren’t able to conceive and wanted to raise a child.

You nod, “Gotcha,’”.

You beam at Hoshi, “Next time you see me, I’m going to be a hybrid owner.”

“I’m already praying for the hybrid.”

You slightly glance at the GPS mounted to the dashboard of your car as it gives you the next direction. You still had put in the address from the place Vernon recommended but as you pulled up to the red light, Hoshi’s advice mulled about in your head. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel before curling them around the wheel and squeezing. You stared at the GPS screen, gnawing on your bottom lip.

You jump as the person behind you lays on their horn, tearing you away from your inner thoughts. The light has turned green and the lane beside you has already cleared so you press on the gas. There’s a small gas station that you pull into. You ignore your GPS repeatedly telling you to make a U-turn as you search for the nearest adoption center and upon finding one, you input the new address into the GPS and begin driving again.

From first glance you can tell this place doesn’t have much funding. The parking lot is all gravel and the grass away from the actual building is overgrown and has been left to its own devices. In the lot, the large adoption building stands alone with its dull paint, broken concrete sidewalk, and faded wooden pillars, making it look lonely. There are only a few other cars parked alongside you, most likely the employees.

The receptionist looks as though this is the last place when you walk into the building. There’s a man in a stained, muscle shirt waiting in the seated area. His stomach slightly pouches and the skin visible shows the sun and age has not been favorable to him.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist has noticed your presence and addresses you.

You give a polite smile and step up to the desk. “Hi. I’m looking to adopt.”

The receptionist clicks on their computer, “Do you have an appointment?”

“Oh! Uh- No, I don’t.” You try to sound positive though you’re sure the dismay sneaks into your voice.

“Okay, that’s fine. Go have a seat and someone will be out shortly,” they say all without taking their eyes off of the computer screen.

You twist your upper body to look at the seats where the man is. The building itself is huge, but most of the space must be dedicated to housing the hybrids because there are only at most ten chairs bunched together.

The sound from your heels on the linoleum floor draws the man’s attention to you and you ignore the way his eyes scan over you. You nearly bolt out of the door to go to upscale hybrid adoption center like you originally planned, but the corkboard on the wall with pictures of hybrids smiling with their owners as they’re freshly adopted catches your eye and you hesitantly sit.

The man sighs and shifts in his seat. “How much longer are they going to be?” he loudly calls out to the receptionist.

“It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Bastards took my damn hybrid and I’m trying to get him back.”

You peek up from your phone to see that the man is talking to you. Your cheeks blush and you shuffle back in the chair and cross your right leg over the left. “I’m sorry.”

He rubs his hand over his face, “Yeah, been waiting for a little over an hour and they still have yet to bring him out.”

It’s twenty minutes before anyone comes into the waiting room. At the door opening, both you and the man looked over to see two guards escorting a hybrid out. The man stands and speedily walks over to them. The hybrid flinches in the guards' hold but says nothing as the man throws his arms over his shoulders and pulls him into a hug.

You’re too distracted to see the woman standing by your chair at first. When you finally so take notice of her, she gives you a kind smile and holds out a hand for you to shake.

“Hello. You’re here to adopt?”

You nod.

“Fantastic! If you just follow me to the back, I’m going to ask you a few questions and have you fill out some paperwork and then I can show you some hybrids.”

You gather your jacket and bag from the chair next to the one you were sitting in and follow behind her.

Nervous energy bubbles in your chest as you hear the chatter from the hybrids growing louder as the woman leads you into the housing section of the center. The rooms are set up in rows, similar to a prison where you can look into the rooms through the glass windows in the door. As you glance in the rooms, you mainly see the hybrids laying in their bed, finding ways to busy themselves. You stop when you reach a portion that opens up to accommodate lunchroom style tables and two food serving stations and sit at one of the tables, the metal cool beneath your legs.

“So, most of the hybrids we have here are older but we do have a few in your age range.” The woman shuffles through a pile of paper shes brought with her. “Is gender something important to you?”

“Um, no.”

“Oh that's good!” the woman seems relieved. “I will go get the first hybrid for you.”

You watch her walk off, left alone at the table with the papers. Part of you is curious to see what is written on them but you know it’s not your place to creep. Instead, you get up from the bench and walk to one side of the room to glance into the bunks. There are a few that are empty and as you walk down the line, the hybrids in the room, at most, glance at you passively before returning to their book or falling back asleep. All but one.

His hair is pitch black and it weren’t for his tail, you would be questioning if he was even a hybrid because his ears blend in with the rest of his hair. You can tell his hair is knotted and the plain clothes on him are baggy and loose. As you look in, he turns in his bed from having his knees to hugged into his chest to having one hanging off and the other tucked under him. The breath is knocked from you when you see how beautiful he is; a button nose paired with plush lips, round cheeks, and almond eyes.

His head tilts as he observes you back and he carefully steps from the bed and walks to the window. Your heart starts racing when his face comes directly in front of the window so the only thing separating you is the smudged glass. His eyes widen and he brings a hand up to the window, pressing his palm into it and you see his ears perk up.

“Y/N?”

You’re head snaps in the direction from which you’re called and you lower your hand. The woman’s returned and standing next to her is a hybrid. The hybrid’s hair is as dark as the hybrid’s you were just looking at, though this one’s ears stand straight from his head and have a slight point rather than drooping flat. You can also see the hybrid’s long tail behind him as he keeps his head down. You look back when there’s a whimper from the hybrid in the room you’re walking away from and when you look back at the hybrid being presented to you, he’s looking directly at you.

“This is Min Yoongi. He is a Siamese, twenty-six, and he’s had three previous owners. He IS older than you but I believe he should be a good fit for your particular lifestyle.”

You watched Yoongi the entire time the woman was speaking and couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw clenched at the mention of his previous owners. His tail was also rapidly swishing back and forth, slow enough for you to catch a glimpse of a bald patch on the underside.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you politely smile at Yoongi. His eyes are transfixed on yours and despite his wide pupils showing his excitement, he keeps a scowl on his face.

“His name is Jimin.” Yoongi carefully watches as your brows furrow in confusion. “The hybrid you were talking to, his name is Park Jimin.”

“Min Yoongi, that’s enough,” the woman interjects through gritted teeth.

“If you’re going to adopt a hybrid, adopt him, or Jungkook or Taehyung. Not me,” Yoongi says with complete conviction and at the mention of Jimin, you look over your shoulder at the door to said hybrid’s bunk. Now that you listen closely, you can hear a quiet whimpering coming from his direction.

“Min Yoongi!” The woman explosively reaches out and yanks on Yoongi’s ear. He loudly yelps and scurries on the bench away from her and the whimpering from the door becomes louder as Jimin begins kicking the door.

“Hey!” You’re half standing in the bench now, leaning your body over the table as you try to put your arm in front of Yoongi as protection.

Footsteps indicate that a few guards are approaching and one has taken to banging on Jimin’s door with a baton as a warning. Yoongi’s eyes are focused behind you on Jimin’s door but as two guards grow closer to you, his lips pull up in a snarl, ears completely flat against his head and the hair on his tail standing straight up.

“Stay away from them,” Yoongi hisses.

And they do. The guards instead walk around the table and roughly grab each of Yoongi’s arms and hoist him up before beginning to drag him off. You lock eyes with Yoongi as he looks back at you, getting further away but you’re too in shock to interject and a few moments after he’s gone from sight, you hear the slamming of a door.

The woman clears her throat, “I apologize for him. I thought he had learned that he should never try to sway potential owners but it seems I was wrong. He’s usually not aggressive and we will make sure he never behaves in that manner again.”

You just now look at her.

She smooths her clothes as though she was the one dragged off. “Now, I have another hybrid I can show you and I can assure you that he will be far more pleasant-”

“I want to see Jungkook and Taehyung,” you cut her off with a steely gaze.

Her lips thin and her nostrils flare. “Jungkook and Taehyung are both unavailable due to some misconduct, but we do have some other lovely hybrids. If you are interested in adopting in pairs, I can show you our predator hybrids, Seokjin, and Namjoon who are both mature and would also be a good fit for your home.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you contemplate your next move. Yoongi seemed so concerned about the two hybrids but the woman is most likely not going to give in and allow you to see them, and she’s the only one here that can ensure you don’t walk out of here alone. One last glance at Jimin’s door to see him shyly looking through the window quells any doubts you have that make you want to leave. If you were able to help one hybrid leave this place, then you felt that was worth it, and so you nod.

There are far more guards in the section that the predator hybrids are housed in. There are also bars on the windows of their doors and instead of the conversations you overheard in the last place, it’s deadly silent.

The woman gestures to the guards standing by the door and the one by the handle pounds on the door twice with his fist before opening it. One hybrid is sitting at a small desk with a book in his hands and the other is standing behind him and turns from the window looking outside to you as you walk in. Both of the hybrids ears perk up as their eyes scan over you.

As soon as you fully step into the room, there’s a series of clicks and grunts coming from the older looking hybrid with the round ears and stubbed tail. He lowers his head and steps away from you before completely lowering himself to the ground. Your eyes are on him so you don’t see the other hybrid until he bumps his body into yours, sending you stumbling and he follows to nuzzle his nose into your neck. A bright red colors your cheeks and your heart leaps into your throat.

“It seems they’ve both taken a liking to you.” The woman’s tone somehow sounds sarcastic. “The wolf hybrid is Namjoon,” she flicks her hand at the hybrid now whining into your neck, “and the bear is Seokjin.”

Namjoon becomes lost in his own ministrations and grabs your waist to pull you closer causing you to gasp in shock and the for the guards to come into the room. At the sight of them, Jin begins huffing and stands, puffing out his chest to seem bigger.

“Why don’t we go look at some other hybrids?”

Jin makes a deep noise in the back of his throat that sounds similar to a growl when the guards step forward and pry Namjoon from you. Namjoon bares his teeth at them and his ears lower back but he remains compliant. Both of their eyes are pleading as you follow the woman back out of the room and you find yourself feeling guilty for walking away from another hybrid.

The next room is right next door to Namjoon’s and Jin’s, though there’s only one person occupying the space.

The orange haired hybrid doesn’t look up when you enter the room, focusing on folding the white clothes perfectly. His room is the cleanest you’ve seen so far, both of the beds are made and the sheets are straightened so there are no wrinkles and the pillows are fluffed, his tennis sneakers are tucked neatly next to his desk which has a neat stack of papers on top, pencils lying to the side.

“This is our red fox hybrid, Hoseok. He would normally have a roommate, but we had to let the other hybrid go, unfortunately.”

Hoseok lifts his head at the woman talking and his whole body stiffens. His hands pause folding mid-air as he assesses the situation with a cautious demeanor. He’s intimidating, even when his face breaks out into a grin and he bounces over to you.

His large hands cup yours and bring them up between your bodies. “Are you here to adopt?!” Hoseok’s eyes light up as he excitedly asks you the question. His personality is infectious so you find that despite the way your heart pounds in your chest, you’re smiling along with him.

“I am.”

If it’s even possible, Hoseok’s smile grows larger. The glow of his skin and the whiteness of his teeth are almost blinding.

Hoseok brings your hand up to his face and leaves a few gentle nips on the inside of your wrist. “You’ve already met Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon.” You feel his lips curl upwards on the delicate skin of your wrist. “If you don’t adopt me, I hope you adopt one of them,” he stares into your eyes with a soft intensity.

You swallow heavily and you pray that he doesn’t feel your hands becoming clammy. You faintly hear the woman call out Hoseok’s name in warning but both of you ignore her as you keep your eyes locked. And at long last, you exhale a shaky breath and gently remove your wrist from Hoseok’s hand and look away. Your cheeks feel warm so you’re sure he can tell the effect he has on you.

“Hoseok has had three previous owners. The last was actually an instructor at a well-known dance academy, so he is technically trained if you’re looking for a hybrid that’s able to provide entertainment for yourself or any guests you may have.”

The woman gives you the rundown of Hoseok’s past like she’s done with every hybrid you’ve seen. Namjoon and Jin have both only had one owner and were put up for adoption because they were getting too old. You’ve spent nearly four hours listening to her speak about different hybrids and following her from room to room, and though your heart goes to all of the hybrids you’ve seen, only Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook stay on your mind, even though you haven’t met the former two.

You stare at the single adoption form in front of you pinned to the clipboard in your lap, pen in your hand. The main lobby is empty and there’s a different receptionist than the one from when you arrived. The setting sun casts the chairs in a golden hue. Most of the form is filled out though your pen hovers above the line asking for the name of the hybrid.

You rest the pen in your fingers and look up from the paper, eyebrows upturned and you continuously glance over at the receptionist working before you make your decision and walk over to them.

“Hi! All set?” the receptionist pleasantly asks.

“Uh-” you place your elbow onto the tall desk and gingerly scratch the bridge of your nose, “No actually. Is there a way I can get six more adoption forms?”

A single person is legally allowed to own up to twelve hybrids at a time.

The receptionist's eyes widen. “Umm, I’m...not...sure,” they answer uncertain, “Let me go talk to my boss and I’ll get back to you, okay?”

“There’s no need to do that,” you muster up a smile to seem convincing, “We already talked about it and said it would be alright.”

The receptionist hesitantly sits back down, looking warily at you and for a second, you think that they’re able to see through your bluff but luck is on your side because they spin to the filing cabinet and pull out extra adoption papers to your request. You quietly thank them and rush back to your chair to fill them out.

The sun had completely set by the time the receptionist puts all of the paperwork you filled out through the system and now you wait impatiently for your hybrids to be escorted to you. Your leg bounces nervously and your eyes never once leave the door. You hold your breath when the door clicks as it’s opened.

Jimin is the first to walk through the door, his tail wagging fast behind him and he slips from the guards escorting him and jogs over to you. His cheeks swell with the smile he has on his face. He hugs your entire arm to his chest and rests his cheek on your shoulder.

The others were in single file behind him, starting with Yoongi and then a hybrid with pure blonde hair, Jin, Namjoon, Hoseok, and finally a bunny hybrid with large ears and hazelnut brown hair. What baffles you is the handcuffs around the wrists of the bunny hybrid. You curiously watch as one of the guards removes the cuffs and the hybrid rubs his wrist and rolls them to crack them. There’s a faint brush of pink upon his cheekbones and his ears twitch when he looks at you and he shuffles so he’s half hiding behind Hoseok.

Yoongi’s looking at you in shock and you find him completely adorable with the way his eyes are big and vulnerable and how his lips form a pout. Namjoon’s tail is wagging behind him yet his face is neutral and Jin steps beside him, lips pressed together to contain his smile. The blonde hybrid that you’re not sure is Taehyung or Jungkook, has a scowl on his face but one ear is raised in interest.

“Ready to go to your new home?” You try to not let your nerves seep through your voice. Jimin’s tail thumps on the back of your leg.

“Did you really adopt all of us?” Yoongi is scared and hopeful all at once. You’re standing in front of him, one of his loves latched to your side and your sweet scent faintly mixes with Jimin’s and Namjoon’s before meeting his nose. He can tell the others are just as affected as him because he’s only ever seen them react the same when they met each other upon first arriving in the shelter.

“If that’s alright with you?”

You’re terrified. You have no idea if they will get along; if they even know each other. As your heart starts racing and your throat closes up, Taehyung bounds over to you at Jimin whining, a similar noise being vocalized.

Taehyung has his ears lowered and tail tucked in submission in front of you, peeking up at you with big eyes. You want to feel the locks on his head despite the tangles and flecks of dirt, the wavier hair that covers his ears. You’re not given a choice because Taehyung nudges his head into your stomach and your hand reflexively comes up to Taehyung’s head as one foot goes back to catch you.

“Please take me home.”

Tags: @detectivebourbon @omgsuperstarg

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erosofthepen · 4 years

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A Dwarf and his Child

So this is the second chapter of my OC fic, and I think it’s pretty good. Dwalin and Clara travel to the Blue Mountains.

Chapter One

Dwalin didn’t speak very much. But once Clara warmed up to him, he had no choice but to listen. She spoke very openly and it rarely ceased. But it wasn’t as annoying as it was endearing. She would ask very inquisitive questions for such a young girl, and Dwalin could tell she was very bright. In two weeks he learned much about her. And she learned much about where she was going to live.

“Are there any other children I can play with?”

“Aye. Actually, I’ve made arrangements with my friends sister, and you’ll be with her and her two boys while I am away.”

“Boys?’’ Clara said with a face. Dwalin chuckled.

“That bother ye?’’

“Boys are yucky.”

“Indeed they are. But these two are plenty of fun to be around and no doubt you’ll get into all sorts of trouble with them.”

‘’How old are they?’’

“One’s about your age. 32, no? His name is Kili. The other is just a few years older, he’s 38 and named Fili. You’ll be thick as thieves.”

“Thieves are bad!”

“Just a saying lass.”

“Oh. Wait. Kili and Fili? They sound just the same!”

“You’ll tell them apart, no worries.”

“How?’’

“Kili has brown hair, Fili’s a blond.”

Claira narrowed her eyes and was quiet for a bit.

“I’ve got it! Fili the fair! Because he has blonde hair. Now I won’t forget. Though, i’ll have to think of something for Kili. There’s no words for brown hair that start with K.”

Dwalin smiled and nodded before leaning back and taking a draw from his pipe.

The Blue Mountains looked very intimidating to a little one. Clara and Dwalin rode their way through different villages and rocky paths. Finally, just after noon one day, the two of them arrived at a village populated with mostly dwarrow. They stopped on the outskirts of town at a little house made of oak.

“Is your hole underneath?” Clara asked.

“Hole?”

“Yeah, your hole. Where you live.”

“Ah. Lass, we live in houses. Not holes. Holes are for hobbits and rabbits.’’

“Oh.”

“You’ll get used to it lass, don’t ye worry.”

“Alright.”

“Afternoon Brother! How was the journey?” A voice called. Clara looked over at the house and standing in the doorway was a grey-haired dwarf with a long beard and red robes.

“Afternoon! We fared just fine.” Dwalin called in return, getting off the pony before helping Clara off.

“Is this the wee lass then?” The grey dwarf asked, making his way over.

“Aye. Clara’s her name. Clara, this is yer Uncle Balin, or Irak’adad Balin, if you will.”

“Earackadad?” She questioned, jumbling the word.

“Irak’adad. It means uncle in the language of dwarves. You’ll learn.”

Clara narrowed her eyes and looked Balin up and down.

“I’m just going to call you Uncle Balin.”

The older dwarf chuckled.

“That’s quite all right. Tell me, did you have a good journey Clara?”

“Indeed I did. I didn’t think the mountains would be so big, but they were absolutely huge. In Hobbiton, there’s no mountains at all, did you know that? But there’s plenty of hills. I lived in the biggest hill, Bagend. Well, sometimes I did. Mostly I lived in Tuck-burough, but my family there didn’t like me very much. They kept calling me a bastard, whatever that means. I don’t think it means something very good. We also live in Holes, but I suppose dwarves don’t. Are houses very cozy?”

Balin looked a bit taken back by her speech, but smiled nonetheless.

“Aye, I think ours is cozy enough. I’ve made up a room for you, and made sure to find the warmest blankets in Ered Luin.”

“I get my own room?” She asked with wide eyes.

“Aye, would ye like me to show ye?”

“Yes indeed!” She said excitedly.

Balin looked up at his brother.

“We’ll meet inside?”

“Aye, shouldn’t take long to unpack.”

Balin took Clara’s hand and led her up the steps. The inside of the house was large, and there were three rooms on the bottom floor. One was the bathroom, another was the study, and the third was Balin’s room. The space that wasn’t closed off was the hearth, table, pantry, and kitchen. There was a stairway that led up to the upstairs.

“That’s where ye and Dwalin be sleeping. He has a room and I’ve added yours.”

Balin eagerly led her up the stairs and opened the door to her room. There was a small bed in the corner and a wardrobe, as well as a vanity with a mirror, with a handsomely woven rug on the wood floor. But Clara wasted no time in letting Balin know her favorite part.

“That’s a ginormous window!” She said, letting go of his hand and crawling up on the bed to press her nose against the glass. It was chilly in the autumn weather but she could see the mountains and forrest’s.

“Aye, I installed it just last week. You like it lass?”

She nodded vigorously.

“I’ve never seen one so big! Not even in the Brandybuck’s lands!”

“I’m glad ye like it.”

They heard thumping coming up the stairs and Dwalin came in with her pack and lambie.

“Right. Let’s get you unpacked and then some luncheon.”

Balin had fished for lunch and they had some nice, plump, rainbow trout. When Balin was dishing the meal out, Dwalin interjected.

“She’s going to need a bit more than that, brother.”

“It’s already a plenty large portion!”

“She’s half-hobbit. Their appetites are something to be feared. And she is a growing girl.”

During luncheon, they spoke of taking Clara to the markets the next day to get fitted for warmer clothes.

“This isn’t the Shire, after all. Those dainty wee dresses won’t do much to keep out the frost.”

“Aye. And we’ll have to get her a pair of boots. Did she go bare-foot this whole way?”

“That’s the way of hobbits. Though, she has more cuts and bruises than I like to see. Seems like she didn’t inherit the hobbit feet.”

“Seems so. Oh, did ye tell her we’re dining with Thorin, Dis, and the lads tonight?”

“No, but might as well tell her now.”

“Can I meet Kili and Fili?” Clara asked, interrupting them.

“Of course lass. You know of them already?”

“Dwalin told me. Are they really princes?”

Balin and Dwalin exchanged a look.

“Aye, they are. In title at least.”

Clara shrugged and bit into a roll before letting her mind wander while the brothers talked.

After luncheon, Balin and Dwalin agreed to draw with Clara.

“Bilbo and I always drew after lunch, while Aunt Bella was cleaning up. She got me some fine charcoal from a craftsman and a sketchbook. They should be up in my room, Let me go get them!”

The brothers were certainly impressed by Clara’s skill. It wasn’t as if she could draw portraits, but it was far better than your average 32 year old.

“Ye must get it from your Adad,” Balin commented. Indeed, despite Dwalin’s fierce manner, he always was the most careful with crafting, and patterns and art in silvers and golds were his specialty.

They spent much of the afternoon drawing (with a snack or two in between), before they got ready to sup. Balin helped Clara choose an outfit and Clara sat patiently as Dwalin braided her hair half up, down the back. At 5 o’clock, they left the house and walked to the other side of the village, coming to stop at probably the grandest of houses. Balin knocked thrice and soon the door was flung open and they were greeted by a Dwarrow with beautiful brown hair. She hugged both the brothers and kissed their cheeks before smiling broadly at Clara.

“And what’s your name Lass?’’

“My name is Clara Took.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Clara. My name is Dís. I hear you are the same age as my son Kili, is that so?”

“Dwalin said he’s thirty three, and I’m thirty three, so it is true!”

A sudden shriek and shouting came from somewhere in the house. Dis closed her eyes and sighed.

“There be the boys now. They’re playing fox and rabbit, but I’m sure they have room for one more.”

“I love fox and rabbit! I always got chosen to be the fox whenever I played with my friends in Hobbiton.”

“That’s very well, my dear. Come in, come in.”

Clara, Balin and Dwalin stepped over the threshold and were nearly run into by two blurs of blue and brown.

“Boys!” Dis scolded. The two of them stopped and turned to look at their mum and the guests.

“Is that the girl?!” Kili asked excitedly. Dis was about to reply when Clara answered for her.

“I’m Clara! You must be Kili, since you have dark hair. Dwalin said you have dark hair and Fili has blonde hair!”

“Hi Clara!” Fili and Kili said as one.

“We’ve never had a friend our age! I mean, a friend whose a girl our age! A girl who is our age! You’re pretty special! What’s your favorite game? I hope you like hide-and-seek! That’s my favorite. Fili likes fox and rabbit, but he always wins because he’s a whole lot stronger and faster. But he won’t be for long. I’ll bet I’m taller than him one day!”

“You wish! I’ll always be taller than you, because I’m older than you!” Fili said.

“Boys,” a new voice said. All three of the children turned to look at a dwarf with black curly hair and piercing blue eyes.

“Hi.” Clara said shyly. The dwarfs glare turned into a smile as he met Clara’s eyes.

“Hello there lass. What’s your name?”

“My name is Clara. And you have got to be King Thorin! Adad said you’re the bravest King ever born!”

Thorin smile faltered for but a moment and his eyes flickered to Dwalin’s before coming back to Clara.

“He exaggerates. You may just call me Thorin.”

“Oh, alright!”

“Why is your voice like that?” Kili asked.

“Like what?”

“The way you talk, it’s so different!”

“That’s because she’s from a hundred miles away Kee!” Fili said with a sure nod, “All people from far away sound different.”

“Oh okay.”

“You sound different to me too. No hobbits talk like you!” Clara said.

“Hobbits are like rabbits, right?” Kili asked.

“Not at all!”

“Don’t you live in strange burrows?”

“No, we live in hobbit-holes!”

“In the ground?’ Fili asked.

“Yes, In the ground.”

“Then you are a rabbit!”

“No I’m not!”

“Oi!” Dwalin called. “That’s enough I think. Best to stop arguing.”

“Aye,” Thorin agreed. “How about you two show Clara your toy chest?”

“Great idea!”

The older dwarves all watched in amusement as Kili and Fili both grabbed Clara’s hands and dragged her away down the halls.

Chapter Three

#dwalin #balin #fili #kili #dís #thorin #oc #clara took #the hobbit #the hobbit fanfic

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aristocratic-otter · 4 years

Photo

Thank you, @peachpit-mo, for the tags. I especially appreciate it this week because it pushed me to actually add something to my COTTA for the first time in a week, so I’d have something to post!

With no further ado, a scene from my dazzlingly (and temporarily) titled “Civil War Fic”

He raises one supercilious eyebrow and I scowl back at him. Rescuer or not, I don’t have to stand for this coxcomb’s superior attitude. He lifts his lip in a sneer, before turning away from me to attend to his saddle bags. After shuffling about in one bag, he tosses a bundle of fabric my way and I’m not quick enough to avoid it, so I’m assaulted by a set of drawers smacking me in the face. Spitting out the fabric portion that ended up in my open mouth, I glare at him. He turns away, but not swiftly enough to hide the satisfied smirk on his lips.

I’m tempted to throw them right back in his face, but I decide that I prefer the relief of being clothed to the satisfaction of smacking the smugness off of his face. I stand, letting the blanket fall away from my nudity, push my feet through the leg holes and jump to pull up the snug cotton undergarments. As I button the waist, I glance up to catch the rebel boy turning away, a dark flush on his cheeks. My eyes narrow. Was he watching me?

He keeps his face averted and again throws something in my direction. I manage to catch it this time, and I find that he’s brought me a fine white linen shirt. I can’t help but run my fingers over the cloth; it’s softer than any fabric that’s ever touched my skin before. As I shuffle it over my head, I can’t help but shudder at the almost sensuous feel of it against my skin. I note another soft thump, presumably more clothing, landing on the bed next to me and once my head has emerged from the cloud of linen, I note that he’s brought me some nondescript tan trousers.

Once I’ve covered myself with what he brought me, I peer up at him inquiringly. He’s leaning against the fireplace mantle, the picture of nonchalance, with one foot crossed behind the other, and both arms crossed loosely over his chest. He’s ostentatiously looking away from me as if to make a show of his respect for my privacy. I clear my throat, and his eyes shoot to meet mine, some unfathomable emotion in them, but a mask of indifference swiftly drops over his face.

“Satisfactory, Snow?” he sneers at me, and I scowl back at him.

“It would be nice to know who I am to thank for this…” and I pause, to make my words more pointed, “largesse”.

I meant my sarcasm to be insultingly clear, but his face doesn’t show even a flicker of reaction.

“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch the 3rd, at your service”. His sour expression negates the meaning of his statement.

“That’s a mouthful, Sir,” I point out, snottily.

He rolls his eyes at me, and says, “You may call me Baz. It’s sure to be better than listening to you mangling my full name with your New York vowels.”

PSA re: tagging

Based on the extremely helpful discussion on tagging today (thanks, @vkelleyart for starting it!) I’m going to start including the following statement on each of my posts.

If you have already posted, or are not currently creating, know that I tag you because I want you to know I’m thinking of you.

If you’ve been tagged already, I’m sorry for the extra notification, but I’d love to share my own creation with you, because I appreciate you and your opinions.

If I forgot to tag you, and sooner or later, I will, know it isn’t because I don’t want to hear from you and see your work. Please post anyway, and tag me on your work!

I’ll be tagging every creator I follow, in case any of you good folk want to steal or modify this idea for yourselves, since so many people (from the comments on Venessa’s post) struggle with tagging themselves

@anika-222, @moonstonemagic13, @fight-surrender, @sbazzing, @cynopoe, @sourcherrymagiks, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @kirito-potter, @amphipodgirl, @fox--diaz, @knitbelove, @eliphantart, @subpar-selkie, @9outofpen, @adamarks, @caitybuglove23, @bazzybelle, @scone-lover, @simonsnowsfreckles, @singerofsimplesongs, @pipsqueakparker, @annabellelux, @pitchpatronus, @penpanoply, @warriorbeeofthesea, @sharkmartini, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @krisrix

#co/ws #carry on through the ages #civil war #tagging

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bohemian-napsodyy · 5 years

Text

Operation: Cabin Fever (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Summary: After Ahk starts feeling a little down from almost never leaving the museum, you’re inspired to come up with your most risky plan yet.

Word Count: 5.7k (this could be NATM 4 in itself jfc it’s so long, I’m so sorry)

Warnings: no real warnings, but Larry’s pizza falls on the floor

A/N: So i just realized after going through my masterlist that even though I have a handful of Ahk hcs, i’ve never done a full-ass fic for him before??? THIS IS THE FIRST ONE?!? So that makes me even more excited to post this?!?!?! :D

I also got so invested in this to the point of making a playlist to listen to while you read!! if that’s your sort of thing of course :)

Stay Alive -- Jose Gonzalez

Bones -- Michael Kiwanuka

Blue Spotted Tail -- Fleet Foxes

‘Tis Autumn -- Nat King Cole

Everybody Loves Somebody -- Dean Martin

If you don’t feel like listening to the whole thing, at least listen to the first two, I think they capture the vibe really nicely (and i may or may not have teared up a bit while listening to them as i wrote this oopsies)

Enjoy, my loves! <3

You knew something was wrong when you showed up at the museum and Ahkmenrah was nowhere in sight.

That wasn’t like him at all. He almost always was waiting in the main entrance, the smile on his face like sunshine as he ran to greet you with a tender kiss.

You looked around, glancing from side to side, almost expecting Ahk to be hiding somewhere in preparation to scare you.

But then you frowned. You knew Ahk was mischievous at times, but he had never, and would never, do anything that would make you worry like this.

“Hey, Larry?” You called out, frowning as you quickened your pace through the main hall. “Larry!”

The night guard stepped out of the break room at the sound of your voice, Dexter perched on his shoulder.

“Hey, Y/N!” Larry called out, beckoning you over with a friendly wave. You heard Dexter chitter some sort of monkey ‘hello’ to you. “You’re just in time, I ordered pizza again!”

“Thanks,” You replied quickly as you approached. “I’m not really hungry right now, but maybe later.”

Larry frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you turn down pizza so fast, what’s wrong?”

“Have you seen Ahk?” You asked, your voice filled with worry. “He’s normally here to meet me by the time I show up, and I was even late getting here today, but he’s nowhere in sight.”

“Now that you mention it Y/N, you’re right, that is a little weird.” Larry mumbled, half to himself and half to you. “Normally Ahk comes running from his exhibit whenever there’s pizza... he’d never turn it down.”

“Do you know where he’d be? You didn’t see him leave, did you?”

Larry frowned, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t do that, I don’t think. Check his exhibit first, and let me know if you don’t find him.”

“Okay,” you answered, already making your way down the hall. “Thanks, Larry!”

“Bring him over for pizza when you find him!” Larry called out behind you. You could just barely hear Dexter as he chittered along in agreement.

You raced down the hall until you reached Ahk’s exhibit. Nothing seemed out of order as you walked in — the Anubis guards bowed to you ever so slightly as you passed them. Even though they knew you better than anyone else in the museum, and they’d never hurt you, Ahk’s guards still terrified you sometimes.

“Is Ahk here?” you asked one of them, craning your neck as far back as you could, attempting to make eye contact.

The guard nodded, gesturing silently to the back corner of Ahk’s exhibit. Sighing with relief, you quickly bowed to show your thanks and raced over to Ahk’s sarcophagus.

Your beloved pharaoh was slumped down on the floor, arms crossed over his middle as he gazed tiredly at the floor. When he heard the echoes of your footsteps approaching, you caught him quickly look up, startled like a wild animal. When he realized it was you, Ahk resumed his previous slump of a position.

“Hey,” You greeted him, setting your bag down on the stone floor as you plunked yourself down beside him. “Everything okay? What’s going on?”

Ahk glanced at you, an appreciative smile gracing his features as he caressed your cheek gently.

“I’m just fine, Y/N.” He sighed, gazing into your eyes deeply before looking back down at the floor. “Really, I am.”

You raised your eyebrows doubtfully. “Larry ordered pizza…”

No response.

“…And I noticed on my way here that the janitor put fresh bags of Cheetos in the vending machines earlier today. Want to go raid them all like last week?”

“I’m not hungry,” Your boyfriend dismissed your idea with a limp wave of his hand. You shuffled closer, looping an arm around Ahk’s shoulders and pulling him in close to you.

“That doesn’t sound anything like you.” You commented with a sad smile. “You’d already be running to the vending machine before I’d even say the word ‘Cheetos’.”

Ahk simply sighed, and he slowly leaned over until his head was resting gently on your shoulder.

“You can tell me anything, Ahk,” You whispered softly. “Really. What’s going on?”

“Sometimes…” Ahk began tiredly. He reached over and took your hand gently in his. “…I feel as though I may have been better off without the tablet.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Look at the life I live, Y/N.” Ahk sighed, gesturing halfheartedly at his exhibit. “I can only see you at night. We only spend time here. You tell me stories all the time of all the wonderful things that happen in New York during the day, and I cannot experience any of them.”

You could almost feel your heart breaking as you listened to your boyfriend’s words. You wanted nothing more than to take him on a roadtrip, camping, even just a day trip to Long Island. But the tablet wouldn’t let you two do those things together.

“I have not left the museum in a very long time,” Ahk continued sadly. “It has begun to feel like a prison more than a second chance at life. Sometimes… sometimes I feel I would rather die once more and never wake again.”

You sighed, placing a kiss to the top of Ahk’s head gently. His words kept replaying over and over in your mind, making your heart feel like a heavy piece of metal in your chest.

“Don’t say that,” you scolded him gently, looping both of your arms around him in a hug. “Ahkmenrah, please don’t say that.”

“And why not?” The look he gave you was heartbreaking. His eyes were glassy with tears that threatened to fall at any moment. “You rarely sleep anymore, Y/N. You visit me when you should be asleep. And I have not seen Ra’s sunlight in centuries. The tablet’s magic has become more of a burden to both of us than a blessing.”

“But Ahk, being with you has been the best adventure of my life. Sure I have to take break room naps every now and then, but I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.” You answered, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “You might hate the tablet right now, but I’m telling you — it’s given me the greatest gift of my life.”

“And what is that?” Ahk asked doubtfully. You couldn’t hold in your giggles.

“You, you goose!” You slapped his arm playfully. “What did you think I was going to say, the Easter Island Head?”

Your question earned a smile from your boyfriend. You ruffled his hair gently.

“Wait here,” You said, reluctantly untangling yourself from Ahk’s embrace as you pushed yourself up off the ground. “I’m going to pull some strings and see what we can do.”

“About what?” Ahk asked, mirroring your movements as he stood up as well. He started towards you anxiously.

“It’s a surprise!” You smirked. “But it’ll make you feel a bit better, I promise. Just… sit down! Don’t follow me. You can’t know about this… yet.”

Ahk sighed with a nod. “Alright.”

“I’ll be back!” You called out, dashing out of his exhibit so fast, you almost crashed into one of the cavemen hobbling by.

“Larry!” You called out breathlessly. “Larry! I need your help!”

At the urgency in your voice, Larry and Teddy emerged from the break room and ran over, their faces full of concern. They each held a pizza slice in hand.

“What’s wrong?” Larry demanded worriedly. “Where’s Ahk?”

“He’s fine,” You dismissed with a wave of your hand. “He’s over in his exhibit, like you said. Ahk’s got… cabin fever.”

Larry widened his eyes in disbelief. “Cabin fever?”

“He’s just having a bit of a hard time dealing with always being stuck here in the museum.” You explained quickly. “Listen, I have an idea, I need your help.”

“Yeah, anything, what is it?” Larry asked. He seemed to have forgotten about the half eaten pizza slice in his hand.

“Ahk was telling me he’s never really seen the day in a long time, and we obviously know why…” You began. Teddy took a bite of his pizza as he listened intently.

“…So I need you to confirm something for me. The tablet only activates at sunrise and sunset, right?”

“That’s right,” Teddy nodded. “Y/N, certainly you knew that already-”

“That’s my point!” You exclaimed excitedly. “I can take Ahk out to catch the start of dawn, and be back here in time for sunrise!”

Teddy and Larry were silent. They shared stunned glances as they gaped at each other.

“Absolutely not.” Larry declared, cursing a moment later as a large portion of his pizza toppings fell to the floor. “Dammit, that was the last slice of Hawaiian— look, Y/N, I know you and Ahk are a… thing… and I know how much he means to you, but I can’t let you take him out that early… I mean late… I mean… you know what I mean.”

“What about sunset?” Teddy offered with a hopeful smile. “Immediately after we all come back to life!”

You shook your head. “Ahk has seen the sunset before.” You replied, an edge of disappointment in your voice. “And by the time we get him changed into normal clothes and get outside, it’s already dark.”

Larry shrugged sadly. “Look kiddo, I think it’s really nice that you want to go to this length to help Ahk, but you have to realize how dangerous this is.”

Teddy nodded along with Larry in agreement. “Lawrence has a point, my friend. Ahkmenrah is the only living being in this exhibit. We don’t know what would happen if we lose him. We could lose the tablet, too.”

You sighed in defeat, gazing sadly at the pieces of ham and pineapple from Larry’s pizza that were lying on the floor.

“Besides,” Teddy added, touching your shoulder gently. “If things went wrong, you would suffer a great loss, Y/N. If something happened that wasn’t according to plan… you’d never see Ahkmenrah ever again. The tablet won’t be able to reverse that.”

“But I’d have it under control,” you protested weakly. “I’d set alarms on my phone, I’d have all of Ahk’s stuff ready to go for when we get back, I’d leave plenty of time.”

“Sorry, kid.” Larry shook his head, taking one final bite of his pizza. “I won’t allow it.”

“But-”

“No is no, Y/N. It’s just too risky. Teddy?”

“Yes, Lawrence?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Keep an eye on this one for me. Make sure she doesn’t leave the museum.”

“Larry!” You protested, your eyes wide at his request. “I’m not a child!”

“I know,” Larry replied, shrugging as he made his way back to the break room. “But I’m just taking precautions! Better hurry if you want pizza — it’s almost gone.”

You groaned, burying your head in your hands. You had to come up with a plan B, and fast.

To your surprise, Plan B came to you less than 24 hours later, in the form of Larry’s son Nicky. As soon as he walked in the doors of the museum that night, dressed in a similar hoodie and sweatpants like the ones you gave Ahk to wear outside on occasional evenings, you had your idea.

“Nicky!” You hissed, grabbing his arm and dragging him around a corner before anyone else could see. He yelped in surprise.

“Hey, what the hell-” You cut him off, shushing him harshly.

“I need your help,” You whispered. Nicky frowned.

“Oh no, last time I helped you I ended up babysitting Dexter for three hours while you and Ahkmenrah were up to god-knows-what in the storage closet the entire time, I’m not doing that again.”

“You won’t be babysitting Dexter.” You replied, rolling your eyes. “This’ll be easy, you’ll just have to sit there and… do whatever it is you do.”

Nicky narrowed his eyes. “Alright, where’s the catch?” He demanded.

“I’m trying to sneak Ahk out to catch the moments just before sunrise.” You explained quietly. Nicky let out a loud whoop, and you almost had to cover his mouth with your hand to keep him from giving you two away. The last thing you wanted was Teddy coming over to ask what you were up to.

“Watching a sunrise?” He asked, a mocking tone edging its way into his voice. “Is this another stupid ‘aesthetic date’ right off of Pinterest or something?”

“Oh shut up,” you grumbled with a sigh. “Look, Larry won’t let me leave the museum, he thinks it’s a bad idea-”

“I’m with Dad on this one,” Nicky interrupted with a smirk. “That’s so lame.”

“Nicky!”

“Okay, okay… sorry.”

“He’s getting Teddy to follow me around almost everywhere.” You added quickly, glancing behind you nervously to make sure the wax president wasn’t lurking somewhere nearby. “I need a decoy.”

“Oh,” Nicky smiled as he pieced together your plan. “You want me to be Ahkmenrah?”

“Exactly!” You exclaimed, beaming. You were thrilled that he understood.

“No thanks.”

“What!? Why?”

Nicky rolled his eyes. “There’s no way you’re getting me to wear that outfit of his.”

“Oh, come on!” You protested. “All you have to do is sit in Ahk’s exhibit with your back to the entrance, you don’t even need to say anything-”

“When was the last time his clothes were washed? He’s like… hundreds of years old!” Nicky argued with you in a hushed whisper. “I don’t even think he wears underwear, does he?”

You were about to answer, when Nicky held up his hand to stop you.

“Don’t… don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“I’ll proofread your Ancient Egypt essay for you if you help me.” You countered with a sigh. Nicky raised his eyebrows.

“Help me with my research, and I’ll agree… on one condition.”

“Fine. What is it?”

“I’m not wearing Ahkmenrah’s clothes.”

You paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to work through Nicky’s one rule.

“Could you do me a favour then, and run back to your place to grab another pair of sweatpants and a hoodie?”

“I think I know what you’re getting at. Sure, but it’ll cost you.”

“How much?”

Nicky smirked. “You write my introduction, as well as help me with my research.”

You groaned. This boy was insufferable sometimes.

“Fine.” You mumbled. Nicky beamed.

“Great! I’ll be back in a bit.”

Nicky dashed off just in time. As soon as he ran out the door, yelling to his dad that he forgot his laptop back at his apartment, Teddy rounded the corner.

“Good evening, my friend.” He smiled at you, patting you kindly on the back. “Any plans on this wonderful night?”

You shrugged, trying your best to act normal. You were never a good liar, and you hoped Teddy wasn’t very good at picking up on lies.

“Not sure.” You said casually, throwing in a shrug for good measure. “There’s a new show that just came out on Netflix that Ahk and I might watch together.”

Teddy nodded in approval. “Is our friend feeling any better?”

“Not really,” You admitted. That wasn’t a lie, Ahk was still pretty down in the dumps. “I’m sure after a few days, he’ll be fine.”

“I think so too,” Teddy agreed with a firm nod. “Perhaps I’ll suggest another dance party to Lawrence. Ahkmenrah seems to enjoy those. I could use a good party myself, in fact.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Teddy. He had a heart of gold.

“I’d enjoy that too,” You replied, your heart beginning to race as you caught Nicky sneak back in, a backpack on his shoulders. He pointed down the hall towards Ahkmenrah’s exhibit before dashing off that same way. You had to hurry.

“Thanks, Ted. I, uh, I think I’m going to head off and visit Ahk now. See if we can make it through an entire season before sunrise, y’know?”

“Very well. Enjoy your evening, Y/N.” Teddy tipped his hat to you with a smile before continuing down the hall.

As soon as he was out of sight, you sprinted over to Ahk’s exhibit, almost tripping over your own feet as you did so. Nicky approached you quickly, Ahk right on his heels with an extremely puzzled expression on his features. To your surprise, Sacagawea stepped towards you as well.

“If you’re using decoys,” Nicky began with a smirk. “You’re going to need someone to cover for you as well.”

“Oh shit, I totally forgot.” You mumbled underneath your breath. “You’re a lifesaver, Nicky, thank you so much.”

“Does this mean you’ll write more of my essay for me?” He asked hopefully. “Absolutely not.”

Nicky gave you a harsh glare, before unzipping his backpack rushingly. He pulled out two black hoodies, and matching pairs of black sweatpants.

“Get Ahk to put these on now,” Nicky explained, shoving the clothes at you, then Ahk, who frowned even more at the black clothes in his arms. “Make sure Teddy and my Dad see he changed his clothes, and if they ask, just say he wanted to be more comfortable, I don’t know.”

“Y/N, love, what’s going on?” Ahk asked you slowly, his eyes darting from you, to the clothes, then to Nicky as he tried to piece everything together.

“It’s a surprise,” you answered simply with a smile, nudging your boyfriend playfully. He looked less than satisfied with your answer as he eyed you dubiously.

“Is it alright if I admit I’m a little afraid of your… surprise?”

You grinned at Ahk. “I’m just as terrified too, but that’s what makes it more fun. Now put those on.”

Ahk glanced nervously at you and Nicky, who nodded in agreement. Before you knew it, Ahk had already begun to untie his shendyt, right in front of all of you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” You, Nicky, and Sacagawea all yelled at the same time. Ahk froze, looking like a deer in the headlights as he stared at you with wide eyes, completely startled.

“Ahk, not here.” You said gently, unable to suppress the giggle that began to surface.

“But you said to put them on now-”

“Normally when we say ‘get changed’,” Nicky added, his face a mask of utter terror. “It means go somewhere private, put on your clothes, and then come back.”

Ahk nodded slowly as he quickly stepped out to the bathroom just a little ways down the hall from his exhibit.

“Now,” Nicky declared, turning to you. “I already talked to Sack when you were still over with Teddy, and we’ve got a plan for you.”

“You’re going to wear your clothes until just before you leave.” Sacagawea explained gently. “Then at the last moment, you’ll put on the clothes Nicky gave you. I’ll wear yours, and Nicky and I will take your place.”

You nodded, impressed by their plan. For someone who only got wind of your idea less than an hour ago, Nicky sure knew what he was doing.

“Y/N, you’re certain you’ve got this under control?”

You were interrupted out of your thoughts by Sacagawea’s voice. She placed her hand over yours worriedly.

“It’s quite close to sunrise… you’re sure you can make it back in time?”

You took a deep breath, quickly dismissing Teddy’s words from yesterday as they entered into your mind once more.

“I can do this,” You told Sacagawea firmly. “I’m prepared — I packed music, blankets and tea to keep us warm, and I also researched exactly when sunrise is going to happen.”

“You’ll be back before then, I hope?”

You nodded. “My first alarm is set for twenty minutes before sunrise. I’ve got three more alarms set every five minutes afterwards, just in case. That’s more than enough time to run back. We’ll just be across the street.”

Sacagawea smiled, wrapping you in a firm hug, which you struggled to return because of the clothes in your arms.

“I believe you,” She said gently. “I just want you two to be safe.”

You nodded in reply, returning her smile. “We will. I promise.”

“Y/N, what exactly are we doing that involves me looking like this?”

Ahk’s voice made you turn around, and you couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on your face.

He stood at the entrance to his exhibit awkwardly, shifting his weight from either foot as he gazed at you nervously. The hood of Nicky’s pullover was over Ahk’s head, and along with the fact that he was in all black, he looked a bit like one of the shady characters you tried your best to steer clear of on your nighttime walks to the museum.

He looked absolutely adorable.

“What do we do now?” Ahk asked you with a frown as he approached, setting his carefully-folded Egyptian robes gently into his sarcophagus. You simply smiled as you looped your arms around his neck, pulling Ahk in for a swift yet gentle kiss.

“We kill some time. Want to start season two of Gilligan’s Island?”

Nicky and Sacagawea met you two in the break room at precisely five o’clock in the morning, the pair looking almost comical as they showed up wearing nearly the exact same thing as you and Ahk.

To say you were exhausted was a major understatement. You had spent the first two hours watching Gilligan’s Island with Ahk. The two of you had re-positioned the couch so that from the entrance, you’d only be able to see the back of your heads.

You caught Teddy poke his head into the breakroom briefly once or twice, but luckily he never hung around longer than a couple of seconds. So far, everything was going perfectly according to plan.

That being said, you wanted nothing more than to take a nap, especially with Ahk settled behind you on the couch. His arms were wrapped snugly around your middle, and he felt so warm. All you wanted was to close your eyes… just for a moment.

But you couldn’t. Ahk still didn’t know about your plan, and you were afraid that you’d nap for too long and miss your chance. So instead, you kept yourself awake by playing Monopoly for the remaining two hours.

Nicky smirked at you as he took in your current position on the floor. You were lying on your stomach, staring blankly at the game board with your face smushed against your hand as you waited for Ahk to make the next move.

“Ahk, it’s not chess,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes at your boyfriend, who was staring intently at the game board as if he were trying to move the pieces with his mind. “Just roll the dice and move it already.”

“Quiet, Y/N.” Ahk shushed you as he closed his eyes, shaking the dice gently in his hands. “I intend to win this round, but I need Thoth to hear my prayers and come to my aid. He cannot hear me if you keep talking like that.”

“Someone’s competitive.”

“I hate to interrupt your game, lovebirds,” Nicky began with a laugh as he took a seat beside Ahk. Sacagawea stepped over and carefully sat down next to you. “But I believe it’s time to begin Operation Cabin Fever.”

Your eyes widened in excitement as you bolted upright, feeling a sudden surge of adrenaline run through your veins. You accidentally nudged the game board as you stood up to grab you backpack, earning a loud cry of disbelief from Ahk.

“Y/N, how dare you interrupt my prayers to the gods, I-”

“You better go,” Nicky chimed in, nodding to the door with a laugh. “Someone’s getting grumpy.”

You giggled, grabbing Ahk by the hand and racing out of the break room with him stumbling after you.

“Y/N, may I ask you something?” Ahk asked you just as you ducked behind a wall, checking quickly to make sure Larry or Teddy weren’t anywhere in sight.

“Yeah, of course.” You answered, squeezing Ahk’s hand reassuringly. He frowned at you as he tugged his hood off.

“Please, I beg of you, on behalf of all the gods that watch over us, what in Amun’s name are we doing?”

“Well…” you began, trailing off as you sprinted down the hall once more towards the receiving bay. Checking either hallway once more quickly and finding that the coast was clear, you quietly opened the door and ushered Ahk through.

“Remember how you said you hadn’t seen sunlight in centuries?” You asked, closing the door behind you as quietly as you could. Ahk’s eyes widened as his reaction closely mirrored Larry and Teddy’s from yesterday.

“Oh no,” Ahk whispered quietly, already tugging you back to the receiving door. “No, Y/N, I love you very much but I don’t believe this is a good idea.”

You sighed, closing the distance between you and Ahk as you placed you hands gently on either side of his face.

“Ahkmenrah,” You said quietly. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do.” He answered softly, bringing one of his hands up to caress yours. “I trust you with my life, Y/N.”

“Then please,” you whispered with a small smile. “Please trust me on this one, Ahk. You know I’d never hurt you.”

Ahk nodded, leaning his forehead against yours as his arms circled around your waist.

“I know.”

You kissed him quickly. Just as he began to pull you closer and recapture your lips once more, you broke off with a laugh.

“What is it?”

“You’re shaking, Ahk.”

He smiled anxiously, bringing his hands up in front of him -- they were trembling.

“Y/N, I’m afraid you’ve succeeded in terrifying a king.” Ahk mumbled matter-of-factly. You shook your head with a smile as you took his hand in yours.

“Come on, scaredy cat,” You laughed, carefully stepping down the stairs before starting your run to Central Park across the street. “We don’t have much time.”

You raced across the street, Ahk in tow, just as the indigo sky began to morph into shades of lavender and turquoise. Quickly shrugging off your backpack, you pulled out the blanket you had crammed in there, and spread it out on the ground.

“Do you need any help?” Ahk asked gently, placing his hand on your back as you dug around your bag.

“Take these,” you said with a smile, passing him two thermoses you had filled with tea. “And sit down, get comfy.”

Ahk gave you an appreciative smile and kissed your cheek before settling on the blanket, tugging your hand encouragingly to join him.

“Hang on,” You mumbled, digging around in your backpack. “I need one more thing, I know it’s in here.”

As you settled down beside your boyfriend, you pulled out a pair of earbuds, which you connected to your phone. You passed Ahk one, and he stared at it with a frown.

“What’s this?” He asked, inspecting it as if it were some sort of scientific specimen.

“You put that in your left ear,” You explained with a smile, as you put the other earbud in your right ear. “Like this, see?”

Ahk frowned, nodding, before doing the same.

As Nat King Cole began to play softly, you intertwined your fingers between Ahk’s and rested your head on his shoulder. He, in turn, leaned his head gently against yours.

“Look up,” you whispered. “Dawn is coming.”

The two of you sat together, holding matching thermoses of tea, as you watched the last of the night begin to fade away.

“Is this what you get to see… for an entire day?” Ahk asked you breathlessly. You looked over and saw his gaze entirely fixed on the pinks, blues, and purples that now filled the sky. His eyes were glassy, and as you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, a tear slowly trailed its way down his cheek.

“You’re seeing the most beautiful part of the day,” You answered quietly, pausing to kiss your boyfriend’s cheek. “Everything else is… a little plain.”

“It’s been so long since I saw Ra prepare to rise.” He whispered, reluctantly taking his gaze off the sky to look at you. You almost started crying as well when you saw the emotion in his eyes. You had never seen someone look so entirely moved by something as simple as this.

“Nicky and Sacagawea…” Ahk continued, a little frown blooming on his face as he took a tiny sip of tea. “You got them to do all that… for me?”

You nodded, smiling at the thought of all the hectic planning you’d had to do over the last 24 hours.

“My initial idea didn’t require this much, uh, Mission Impossible-style planning,” you answered sheepishly. “But as soon as I mentioned taking you outside, and so close to sunrise too, Larry immediately put his foot down. He made Teddy my official ‘babysitter’.”

Ahk’s eyes widened, and he let out a little laugh. “Is that why Teddy kept walking by my exhibit earlier?”

You giggled. “Yes Ahk, that’s exactly why. Larry didn’t want him to let us out of his sight, in case I tried to sneak you out.”

Ahk nudged your shoulder playfully with his own. “And yet you snuck us out anyway.”

“You bet your ass I did. I wasn’t going to just sit there while you were feeling down. I had to do something to help.”

Ahk leaned forward, caressing your face tenderly as he pulled you in for a kiss. He smiled into it, before pushing you back onto the blanket. His lips moved softly against yours as he deepened the kiss, pausing only to lean his forehead against yours minutes later.

“No one has ever done anything so considerate for me, Y/N,” he whispered, placing a kiss tenderly on each of your cheeks. “Thank you. You are truly one of a kind.”

You felt your eyes prickle with happy tears at Ahk’s words. You reached up and booped his nose gently with the tip of your finger.

“I love you, Ahk.” You said simply, unable to shake the smile that bloomed on your face. He captured your lips with his own once more briefly.

“I love you more, Y/N.”

A loud ringing noise suddenly cut off the Dean Martin song that was playing from your earbuds, and you realized with a sinking feeling of utter disappointment that it was time to pack up and head back to the museum. Sunrise would be arriving soon.

“What was that?” Ahk winced, yanking his earbud out of his ear as he sat up in alarm.

“Sorry,” you apologized, pushing yourself up onto your feet and starting to shove everything back into your bag. “That’s the signal for us to go.”

The two of you packed up wordlessly, Ahk helping you speed things up by tying the blanket around his shoulders like a cape after he saw you struggling to cram it back into your backpack. Dean Martin still played through your earbuds as you raced back across the street to the museum.

“How much time is left?” Ahk called to you from over his shoulder as he yanked the receiving door back open, letting you pass through first.

“We’ve got just under ten minutes to get you back into your usual clothes!” “We’d better hurry then!”

Before you knew what was happening, Ahk had raced back over to you and picked you up, one arm supporting your back and the other under your knees. You yelped, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck as he sprinted down the hall. The two of you laughed excitedly, high on adrenaline to the point where Ahk almost tripped, nearly sending both of you flying down the hall.

“You two are having fun, I see.”

Ahk skidded to a halt, and you realized with horror that the two of you had run into none other than Teddy. He sat on his horse, staring amusedly down at you as you still remained in Ahkmenrah’s arms.

“Well, you see, we were j-just…” Ahk stammered, glancing at you for help. He was just as bad of a liar as you were. But to your surprise, Teddy smiled.

“If you hurry straight to your exhibit,” Teddy whispered. “I’ll pretend I never saw you. I’ll also pretend that Nicky and Sacagawea never took your place.”

“You knew?” You asked, your eyes widening in surprise. Teddy let out a hearty laugh.

“Your trick may have worked for the cavemen, but not for me.” Teddy announced proudly. “And besides, I’d recognize Sacagawea anywhere.”

You sighed, your gaze falling to the floor in disappointment.

“The important part is,” Teddy continued, a warm smile on his face as he gazed admirably at the two of you. “You made it back in time, just like you said. Now, I’m not encouraging you to do it again, but if you hurry along now… I won’t say anything to Larry.”

Your eyes widened as you grinned at Teddy. Before you knew it, Ahk was already running once more.

“Thank you Ted!” You yelled back as Ahk sped down the hall. “You’re the best!”

“Safe returns, my friends!”

You giggled with glee as the two of you made it back to Ahk’s exhibit, where he finally set you down. Dropping your backpack on the ground, you raced over to Ahk’s sarcophagus and dug out his usual clothes in order to help him change back.

Before you knew it, Ahk was whipping off his hoodie and sweatpants right in front of you, desperate to get his clothes back on in the handful of minutes you had left before sunrise.

“You know,” you began, biting your lip as your currently-shirtless boyfriend reached for his armbands. “It’s too bad we don’t have more time right now, otherwise we could’ve taken this to the storage closet again.”

In return, Ahk glared at you as he tugged his shendyt back on. “How dare you say something like that right as we have to say goodbye!”

You laughed, stepping in to kiss him goodbye quickly, before setting his crown gently on the top of his head.

“I’ll be here tomorrow, my king.” You whispered teasingly, before placing a small kiss on the shell of his ear. “As soon as sunset arrives.”

He smirked, pulling you in for one last passionate kiss before settling into his sarcophagus.

“Deal.”

#THIS IS SO LONG IM SORRY #but i'm also not #i loved writing this #i hope you love it too <3 #rami malek #rami malek imagine #rami malek oneshot #rami malek headcanon #rami malek x reader #night at the museum #night at the museum headcanon #night at the museum imagine #ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah imagine

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desperationandgin · 5 years

Text

Peaceful Easy Feelin’ (A Market Price One-Shot)

Rating: Explicit (or Mature? IDK.)

Author: desperationandgin

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Jamie and Claire take their first road trip together.

A/N: Hello, my friends! After a month of 0 writing, I'm back with an MP one shot. This is, to date, the longest single fic of anything I've written, so I have to deeply thank all of my betas. @filledwithlight, @smashing-teacups, @happytoobserve, @fierceweebadger and @lcbeauchampoftarth, thank you so much. I dropped them on this yesterday and felt real bad about it, but they all knocked it OUT. A L S O thank you to @happytoobserve for the idea with the game! Annnnnd @fierceweebadger even made this GORGEOUS mood board, thank you love! This ficlet takes place after Future Expansions, and I would suggest reading (or re-reading for the tie-in) The Nearness of You afterward!

Peaceful Easy Feelin’

Let it be known, there is nothing sexier than Jamie Fraser pumping petrol while wearing his lumberjack ensemble.

Claire fires off her text to Geillis, subtly watching Jamie’s profile in the side mirror. He’s wearing jeans that make her purposefully linger behind him when they walk; and, to be quite frank, looks as if he stepped straight out of a Barbour ad. When her phone vibrates, she glances down just as he finishes, only having enough time to read part of her friend’s response.

Yer wee fox cub certainly’d like to show ye some wood-

Coughing to hide a laugh, Claire quickly drops her phone down into the bag at her feet as Jamie slides back into the car.

“Ye alright, Sassenach? Want me to go inside, get ye a drink?”

Shaking her head, she smiles and settles into her seat. “No. I’m fine, just eager to go. My expert navigation skills have us at the bed and breakfast by supper.”

The trip from home to the quaint town they’ve read about along the coast is nearly a three-hour road trip on its own. After spending most of the day on Friday making sure things will run smoothly for Jenny and Ian at the farmer’s market, their stop for petrol has them on the lengthiest part of the drive just after three in the afternoon. The temperature is a comfortable 13 Celsius, nice enough to crack the windows and breathe crisp autumn air once they hit the open road. They chat about various things each of them have been meaning to get to (Claire reminds him about the never-ending search for the perfect bedding; Jamie floats the idea of an all-family vacation to one of the cabins near the loch for winter holiday) and weigh the pros and cons of eventually adopting a cat versus a dog.

“I can run wi’ a dog,” Jamie patiently explains, as if that alone should be the winning argument.

“Well, while you run, I can laze around with a cat reading a book and drinking tea,” she responds just as matter-of-factly. “Besides, you don’t run more than once a day, but the dog definitely needs to go out more often than that. How eager are you to put on clothes at eleven p.m.?”

“Ye do tend to have me thoroughly undressed by ten,” Jamie muses, smiling at her soft thwap against his shoulder. “Dogs alert ye to intruders, they like to play, and they can obey.”

“Oh,” Claire scoffs. “Is that what you’re looking for? Something to obey you?”

“I’m no’ generally the commanding type,” Jamie retorts. Anyone trying to command Claire Beauchamp was never going to get very far, in any case. “I only meant they can learn tae do things.”

“Well, so can cats! And they don’t need to be held by the paw to go to the bathroom. I’m right about this.”

“I dinna have anythin’ against havin’ a cheetie, ye ken,” Jamie points out. “My mam had one when I was a wee lad, I liked it fine.”

Claire turns to face him, head tilting to the side. “What was its name?”

Jamie smiles in reflection, sparing a glance at her while he drives. “Adso. He was a fierce hunter, chased away all the mice and ate what dared to linger. She loved that cat until—” He trails off, quiet for a beat before finishing. “No’ long after she died, Adso disappeared. No one remembers seeing him after that, at least.”

Out of habit, Claire rests a hand on his thigh, but as he reaches down for her she meets him halfway, tangling their fingers together. “Adso was truly your mother’s. That’s beautiful, Jamie.”

For a few minutes the memory lingers, the image of his mother curled up with the kitten suddenly swimming to the surface. He can remember the sound of her calling out sweetly for her cat, and the rediscovered memory sways his decision.

“When we’re finally settled after the honeymoon, we’ll see about a cheetie of our own,” Jamie promises, wrapping up the debate for good.

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She didn’t mean to drift, and she’s alarmed to find herself alone in a still car when her eyes open. Before she can wonder too long, Jamie appears, exiting a quaint-looking home that she realizes must be Eskview Farm in St. Cyrus: the true starting point of the road trip. They’re staying for two evenings, planning a day at the beach (in jeans and jumpers) before heading out on the 30th toward Aberdeen. From there, it’s onward to Slains Castle just in time for Samhein, the questionably haunted portion of their road trip beginning and ending with a tour of Bram Stoker’s inspiration.

Getting out of the car, Claire stretches and Jamie detours, moving to her side instead of grabbing a bag from the boot.

“You were snorin’,” he teases, leaning in to brush his lips against hers.

“If I was, it was only because I found myself quite content,” she explains, granting him another kiss as she leans back against the car. “Our first road trip.”

“First road trip. How’s it feel, Sassenach?”

She smiles as she presses her lips to his cheek, then grazes his stubble with the tip of her nose. “How it always feels to be with you.”

Jamie’s lips find the crook of her neck, one hand wandering under her shirt, caressing her back slowly. “And how does that feel?” he whispers in inquiry, dropping a kiss to her pulse.

Claire feels as though she’s standing on a swaying ship, closing her eyes as warmth blooms in her belly. “It feels like an adventure with you, Jamie. Every day.” Sinking into him, her arms loop around his waist as her face nuzzles against his shoulder. When she speaks, her voice is muffled, but she doesn’t move. “And you cannot feel me up in the parking lot of our bed and breakfast.”

“And why no’?” Jamie asks, lips trailing to her collarbone now.

Her eyes drift to the porch and the pleasant-looking elderly woman eyeing them. “Because I think the proprietor is on the porch,” she laughs softly, stifling it against his shoulder. “I’m ready for a shower, though. With company.”

Distraction accomplished (and faster than she expected), they’re shown to a room exploding with lace and doilies, a teddy bear draped in a strand of pearls sitting on the dresser. Once they’re alone, Claire stops trying to hide her laughter and raises an eyebrow. “Someone not take a glance at the photo gallery before booking?”

Jamie, having opened the closet door, stands frozen to the spot. “Sassenach, I cannae think of words tae properly describe what I’m seein’, so just come look.”

Curious, Claire goes to his side, peeking in, and lets out another bark of a laugh as a row of wooden puppets stares down at them from the top shelf. “Well, this is supposed to be a spooky road trip.”

“Spooky and creepy are verra different things,” Jamie feels the need to point out as he firmly closes the door again, tugging off his shirt.

“How so?” she asks, heading into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

He follows her, shedding shoes and jeans in his wake. “Creepy is more on the weird side, ye ken? Like perhaps a person who has that many wooden puppets has other things in her cupboards. But spooky is just aesthetic, Sassenach.”

She scoffs, looking over her shoulder and appreciating the fact that he’s made quick work of his clothing. “I must say, I feel properly educated on the subject now. Thank you.” Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pecks his lips lightly before pressing closer. “I see I’m suddenly overdressed.”

“And the shower was your idea, even. I see what yer up to, distracting me from gropin’ ye in the parkin’ lot.”

Claire laughs, delighted at him — at them — and lets him undress her, if only to feel his fingers against her skin as he exposes it. “You can grope me just as well in the shower, you know.” The last word is a soft exhale as his fingers graze up her sides, pushing her shirt up as he goes and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Aye, I plan to. Dinna fash about that,” he breathes out against her clavicle, hands reaching behind her back to unhook her bra, gently pushing the straps down her shoulders. As he pulls the garment away, Jamie steps back to admire her — topless, in jeans, still wearing her practical walking shoes.

Tugging at her hand, he pulls her to the mirror, grinning at her reflection. “Ye look ridiculous right now.” She’s laughing too hard to respond, shoulders shaking with it. “I mean, it is a look, Sassenach.”

“Would you shut up and get me naked, please?” Claire finally sputters, heaving out a breath as she tries to stop herself from another round of hysterics.

Laughing with her, he unbuttons her jeans, turning her around to kiss her laughing mouth as he pushes them down her body. “I could distract ye wi’ bawdy things.”

Her laughter catches and she clears her throat. “Do go on. What sort of bawdy things will you do to me while the puppets listen?”

It’s his turn to laugh and he does, loudly against her ear. “Nevermind, ye ruined it."

“We’ve wasted enough hot water,” she decides, kicking off her shoes and shimmying the rest of the way out of her jeans, even as he pushes her knickers (with wee hearts on them; a joke gift on her birthday before the real gift of the skimpiest things he’d ever bought) down her legs.

Once all offending pieces are discarded, they step into the bath-shower-combination together, realizing the tight squeeze almost immediately.

“You know,” Claire begins. “Every movie and television show I’ve ever watched would have me believe sex in the shower is effortless. Easy, even.”

There’s hardly room to turn around, let alone do any groping, and Jamie graciously steps back to let Claire have the water. “This is why we never tried it before,” he points out. “I’m no’ prepared to break a hip on vacation.”

With a smirk, Claire wets her hair while facing him. “I’m glad you’re more practical than horny. My own hips thank you.”

When she turns her back to him, Jamie wordlessly reaches for one of the decorative (but unlabeled) bottles, sniffs it, and determines based on color and smell it must be the shampoo. Lathering it into her hair, he massages her scalp in the tamest of ways, but his cock is doing very little to help with his restraint.

“If either of us breaks anything then we cannae have one another for Christ knows how long, so I’m no’ willin’ to risk it,” he supplies practically, working on her hair until she has a well-shaped soap afro and letting her go to rinse—his favorite part.

Closing her eyes, Claire reaches up, working the water through her hair. “Then I suppose we’ll be boring and wait for bed,” she teases, scrunching her nose as soap drips down her face.

Jamie reaches up to wipes the offending suds away, then looks at the high edges of the tub. “I do have an idea. No’ quite what they write in bodice rippers, but somethin’.” As she finishes rinsing her hair, Jamie pushes the shower curtain behind his body before sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Her hips are at the perfect height, and he grins while dragging a finger over her skin.

Turning to rinse any lingering soap from her face, Claire finally finishes and eyes him warily. “What are you going to do?”

Carefully ensuring she doesn’t slip, Jamie pulls her closer and coaxes her left foot up onto the edge of the tub. When his gaze shifts to the view directly in front of his eyes, any half-hardness of his cock goes to full attention. It’s enough to make him groan, lips pressing to her stomach.

“Christ, ye have no idea how mind-blowin’ ye are.”

After his words, his tongue traces the crease where hip joins torso, feeling her shiver despite the warmth of the shower.

“I have—” her words falter, breath hitching as his fingers part her. “—you doing this. I know how to take a hint.” One of her hands pushes through his hair, and gripping a handful of said curls, she presses her hips forward against his mouth.

“Impatient,” he scolds, but the words are muffled as he’s helpless to fulfill her request. He can’t imagine what would need to be wrong with him to deny her, and he hopes to never discover it. His tongue teases around the enticing warmth of her, but his focus shifts to nerves already taut with anticipation. He waits for half a heartbeat before slowly circling his tongue around it, feeling her hand tighten in his hair, her curls brushing the top of his head as her own bows.

With one hand wrapped around her calf to keep her steady, the other moves to her opposite hip while his mouth devours her, doing all of the work. He grunts at the feel of her thigh against the side of his head, absorbing each tremble until her body pitches forward a bit. That’s when he begins listening: to the sweetest sounds that exist just for him, his own private performance.

When she’s close, when pleasure causes her hips to writhe of their own accord, she makes a keening sound; head falling back as her lips part, cheeks flushed the sweetest hue of pink, curls skimming the pearlescent expanse of her shoulders. A high-pitched cry comes next as she tenses, the skin right between her eyebrows furrowing as she chases her climax. Two letters, a gasped out “Ja—” is all the warning he has before a loud, unchecked moan fills the room, not at all drowned out by the sound of the shower. One hand is buried in his hair, while the other clutches his shoulder, leaving red half-moon marks in the wake of her pleasure.

Lapping at the fruits of his labor, Jamie hums in contentment, tongue lazily gliding along warm, slick flesh before nosing at soft curls and finally kissing her hip. As everything in her eases and relaxes, he gently lowers her leg, his arm sliding around her waist as he stands. He gathers her close, standing sideways with her in the shower as his lips find hers for a series of soft, tender kisses. Without prompting, he reaches for the soap and washes her, slowly bringing her down from her high with more touch, this time soothing instead of lust-filled.

When she can finally move again, Claire reaches out to cradle his face in her hands, smiling in blissed-out contentment. “I think I might have to marry you.”

Having previously deemed the shower too dangerous for more strenuous activities, they finish washing and step out, lazily drying in favor of kissing and touching again.

“I cannae be near ye and not want ye,” Jamie confesses against the hollow of her throat as she leans back against the vanity. After a brief pause to plant a kiss over her heart, his mouth envelops a nipple, the warm curve of her breast still damp from the shower.

With one hand braced behind her on the bathroom counter, her other reaches out to drag up and down his back. Claire’s eyes close, head tilting back as she encourages him. “I don’t have it in me to mind.” Her final word is said on a sharp gasp as the tip of his cock presses insistently against her. His mouth hasn’t stopped, moving to the opposite breast to shower it with the same affection as his hands begin lifting. She expects to be moved to the counter, but instead, he coaxes her legs around his waist once he comes up for air.

“Tell me I can have ye now,” he pants across her cheek, beginning to make his way out of the bathroom toward the bed.

“You can have me, Jamie. You can always have me.” Her lips fuse to his, and in a display of exactly how weak he is, she finds herself pressed against the wall, feet from the bed. Before she can tease him, he’s inside of her, and whatever thoughts she once had are replaced by a series of white bursts of light behind closed eyelids. Her hands grasp at his shoulders, frantically trying to find solid purchase on the scarred terrain of his back as he anchors her between his body and the wall.

Forgetting that they aren’t, in fact, in their own home, an unrestrained moan tumbles from her lips, so loud that it makes his own ears ring. Jamie slams forward, doing nothing to help keep her quiet as he sinks deeply into her. His loud groan is swallowed by her mouth, though there’s no resemblance to a kiss thanks to both of them gasping for lungfuls of air. He can tell that she’s focused again by the way she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and digs her heels into his lower back. She’s close, but not close enough, which has him sneaking a hand between them, only just able to reach her clit with his thumb. It’s plenty; she jerks as though touched by a live wire, and as her body contracts around him, he holds a thrust while burying his face against her neck. Letting her carry him with her, both of them breathlessly whimper the other’s name as waves of pleasure begin to recede.

It’s firm knocking on the door that brings first Jamie, then Claire, out of their post-sex stupor, still slumped against the wall. He lowers her gently to the ground, and when her legs are no longer as wobbly as a new foal’s, he steps back, tossing on jeans and answering the door sans shirt. While he does, Claire revisits the bathroom, cleaning herself up a bit until she hears the door close and lock.

“What was that about?” she asks curiously, making her way to the bed and crawling in naked.

“We’re deviants,” Jamie replies casually, laying on the bed and shifting so that she can drape over him. “It was the person next room over. Apparently, ye sound like a dying coo, Sassenach.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didna say it! The woman next door did. I politely disagreed, and she told me that to answer the door in such a state of undress was a mark on my puir soul.”

“Was she about eighty years of age?” Claire mutters, blushing a little.

Laughing, Jamie pulls her closer, kissing her forehead. “Closer to eighty-five, I think. I promised her we’d be leavin’ after breakfast in the morning and until then, no more rude noises.”

“You think they’re rude?”

“I happen to find them verra adorable. Sexy too, if it helps,” he playfully taunts.

She huffs, pretending to be greatly put out. “And what if I wanted to try and get you to make rude noises before 5 a.m?”

With a smirk, Jamie curves a hand around her hip. “If ye’re awake before 5 a.m. on our vacation, Sassenach, I’ll make all the wee noises ye’d like.”

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

Morning comes (but not either of them, thanks to Claire sleeping straight through the alarm), and after a few impolite stares from other breakfast goers, Jamie and Claire wander along the beach, properly freezing before driving into town to shop (Jamie buys a ridiculously priced book of Scottish poems printed in the 18th century, Claire sneakily buys cufflinks to give Jamie before their wedding), have lunch, and spend the rest of the afternoon at a whiskey distillery in Aberdeen. Research, he says, and she agrees to a point—until they walk out more than a few pounds lighter. Still, there isn’t much to worry about as the day begins to fade and they make their way back to the bed and breakfast.

As politely as they can, they rush through supper before escaping to their room; both of them miss the look of contempt shot at them from their neighbor in the corner.

Once their road trip resumes, Claire takes over the driving, opting for an Eagles playlist as the low background music. A half-hour in, Jamie reaches behind Claire to retrieve a bag from the backseat, rummaging while he explains himself.

“I told Jen we were goin’ on this trip and she suggested we borrow a game she bought a while back.”

“A game?” Claire asks with suspicious wariness, glancing at him as he settles back in his seat with a plastic bag full of small square cards.

“Aye, she bought it for a dinner party, when we started havin’ vendors to the farm for get-togethers. To break the ice, ye pick a card and ask the room whatever the question is and everyone answers.”

“It sounds like something you do when you work in a business office and go to company retreats,” she says dryly, looking behind her to change lanes. “And I’m driving, I can’t stop to read.”

“Come on, Sassenach, it’ll be fun. I’ll read them all, but every other card, I’ll answer first. Deal?”

“What could you possibly not know about me by now?”

Jamie takes that as his cue to draw a card and read it off. “‘Have ye ever bought anythin’ from a TV infomercial?’” He looks at her expectantly. “Weel?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, and I’m not ashamed of it like that question implies I should be.” There’s a slight huff at the end, but when he looks over, he sees the corner of her upper lip twitch as she tries to suppress a smile in favor of mock annoyance.

“What was it then? Can I guess?”

Now it’s impossible to hide her smile. “You can try. But it was years before I met you and I don’t own it anymore.”

“Oh, so it worked sae well ye got rid of it?”

“No. I lost track of it during a move and never bothered to replace it. Tell me what you’re thinking it could be,” Claire retorts, deciding maybe the game is alright after all.

“A kitchen gadget?” he attempts on his first try, then goes through various electronic gadgets, home remedy devices, and articles of clothing before giving up.

“A towel,” Claire tells him succinctly.

“A towel? One single towel ye ordered off of television?”

“Specifically for drying my hair. It had a tab in the back to secure it like a turban until these curls were as dry as they could get without assistance,” she explains. “What have you bought from an infomercial?”

“Nothin’ at all, I can honestly say. Do they even have them anymore?”

“Towels?”

“No, ye wee brat. Infomercials.”

Laughing, she shrugs in genuine ignorance. “If they do, I haven’t seen one in a while. What’s the next question?”

Glad to see her seemingly into the idea of the game, he pulls another card. “Alright. I’ll answer first. The question is ‘do ye possess any of the qualities of yer astrological sign?’ Claire, I couldna tell ye at all. I ken I’m a Taurus, but after that, ‘tis a mystery.”

“Geillis is really into horoscopes, you know. She told me that apparently you’re supposed to be devoted and responsible, so lucky me. Stubbornness happens to be a trait of your sign, and the more we talk, the more I think there might be something to that. You know what else a Taurus likes?”

“No, but I’m interested to hear,” Jamie declares, wondering when this conversation with her neighbor happened.

“Apparently, and I wouldn’t know anything about this, you’re supposed to be good with your hands.” When she glances at him, her grin is so toothy that they both laugh, spending a few seconds recovering from it.

“I’m ashamed to admit I’m no’ even sure what your sign is. What are you supposed to be like, accordin’ to October twentieth?”

“I’m a Libra. You’ll have to tell me if I’m gracious, diplomatic, and indecisive, with a love of the outdoors.”

Leaning back as if to appraise her, Jamie ponders it. “I’ve never kent ye to be indecisive. Careful to choose, perhaps, but no’ unable to make up yer mind. And either ye love the outdoors or the acting ye do at the farm is award-worthy.”

Claire smiles, reaching out to rest her hand on his arm for a second. “I love it. All of it, everything that comes with you and Lallybroch.” Her life before him of simply waking up and going to work was status quo for so long that the moment James Fraser stepped into her life, it was as if an entire world had opened up to her. Family and togetherness, love and warmth. Every single bit of her happiness comes from that farm.

“Next question?”

Pulling a card, his face softens. “What’s the most beautiful drive ye’ve ever taken, Sassenach?” She smiles at him sweetly; it’s a quick glance that feels as though it lasts forever, a moment neither of them wants to forget, and so it seems to stretch on. In unison, they answer.

“This one.”

“‘Which American landmark would ye most like to see?’ The Grand Canyon I think, aye? We’ve both talked about that one,” Jamie answers first.

Humming her agreement, Claire adds on to the wishlist. “I want to see the older parts of the country. The original Colonies, where it’s all the most historic.”

“Perhaps in ten years or so, we could take a trip, visit museums and the like,” he offers.

In confusion, she balks. “A decade? Why are we waiting a decade to visit America?”

His shrug is easy as he draws another card. “Our first bairn would be school age, able to appreciate it more, aye?”

As Claire stops at an intersection, she takes the time to look at him, eyes moving over his face and expressing a dozen things she doesn’t say aloud. Instead, as she begins to drive again, she agrees with him. “According to your rigorous baby-making schedule? Yes, we’ll have a nice school-aged child and probably two others by then.”

Jamie’s laughing as he looks at the next card, then makes a noise in the back of his throat as he really reads what he’s pulled.

“What’s the hardest thing ye’ve ever done, Sassenach?”

The air in the car shifts as she thinks, straightening up in the seat. It’s with that question she realizes maybe he doesn’t know some things. The things she doesn’t talk about, the things she’s pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind in favor of not sinking into pieces of her past.

“I can draw another,” he offers after her silence stretches for a full minute.

Shaking her head, Claire wets her lips. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it, really. I mean, I haven’t thought about it—” She pauses again and looks at him from her peripheral vision before focusing on the road. “The first time I told someone their loved one didn’t make it. It was only my fifth surgery, a young man. He was twenty-three; he’d been biking with his friends and swerved to avoid a pothole, but his rear tire caught it.”

It really wasn’t her fault he died on the table. She knows that now; but then, younger and hearing the single monotone beep after her hands had been trying to save a life, it felt as though she’d killed him herself.

“He crashed into a metal fence, the kind with the sharp point at the tip? One went right through him, and I did the surgery. Everything went fine, I thought. I had no idea there was a nicked artery and he was bleeding elsewhere. When he died...telling his parents, his beautiful young wife…that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Jamie watches Claire as she speaks, watches her face, her hands on the steering wheel. He checks to see if she’s white-knuckling it at any point, and listens as she checks herself for wobbles in her voice. He knows her, knows her heart, and realizes that must have taken a toll. “But ye got through it?” he asks quietly, reaching over to rest his hand on her leg while she drives in a show of quiet support.

“It took a long time,” she admits, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “Those don’t get easier, ever, but the first one is always the most difficult. And the hardest part was convincing myself that it wasn’t my fault.” She’ll never forget any of the wails she’s heard, will never forget the people waiting at the hospital alone who had no one to comfort them but her.

Exhaling again, she drops her hand to squeeze his. “Your turn.”

Even when she replaces her hand on the steering wheel, Jamie keeps his own on her leg as he answers. “Watching my da slowly lose it after my mam died.” His eyes move to the window, unable to look at Claire as he speaks. “I’ll always think he died of a broken heart, dinna care how cliche it sounds.”

“I don’t think it sounds cliche. I think he lost the most important person in his life,” she soothes. Once she’s on a long stretch of straight road, her hand drops again to cover his.

“He truly didna want to go on wi’ out her. Her death, Willie’s, they broke him, and he was never going to be the same. When he died, it was almost a relief, Sassenach,” Jamie confesses quietly. “To ken he’d be wi’ her again, that he was no longer here in a state of perpetual grief. He tried to be brave. You would have liked him, I think. I ken for sure he would have loved ye, Claire.”

“I wish I could have met him. Your father sounds like he was a wonderful man, Jamie.” A wonderful man who raised an incredible son. Claire isn’t sure what she believes — if her parents and uncle will be waiting to greet her when she dies — but she does know one thing for sure. “If I ever lost you, I don’t know if I would be any different.”

His hand squeezes around hers before raising it to his lips in a soft kiss against her inner wrist. “I’ll try to never go where ye cannae come wi’ me, Sassenach.”

She doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “Then I promise the same.”

They can’t — not really — but the words are sweet, the sentiment real.

Time melts away and she loses track of how many questions they’ve answered before she warns him they’re ten minutes away from the castle.

“Last one then,” he concludes. “If ye could do something dangerous just once, with no risk, what would ye do?”

Claire has to think about it, then hedges her answer. “Where are we on the danger scale?”

“I would jump out of a plane. Or perhaps let NASA launch me into space.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” she retorts with a scoff. “You’re never jumping out of a plane or anything close to it. Especially not with your plan for ten children.”

Jamie snickers as he puts the cards away, spying a road sign to Slains Castle. “I do have a different answer if ye’re interested. No’ really dangerous physically, but it could be a financial disaster if it doesna go right.”

She knows this has to be about the farm, and she looks at him curiously after making the final turn of the trip. “What is it?”

He hesitates, and she’s pulling up to the dilapidated ruins before he answers. Once the car is in park, he turns to look at her fully. “I want to expand into America. Once we finish wi’ the distillery, I want to market to restaurateurs and chefs in the States.”

She can tell he’s nervous about broaching it; she knows it will take a lot of late nights and frequent travel on his part. She studies his face for a moment before unbuckling her seatbelt in order to reach over and cradle his face in her hands. It’s an awkward position thanks to the center console, but she’s determined to make it work.

“You should do it. Do it because you’re afraid. Do it because I’ll be here to help along the way.” She pauses to kiss him softly. “Do it because I know you won’t go through with anything you don’t believe in, Jamie.”

A swell of emotion makes his eyes narrow a bit, the underlying surprise turning into a small, pleased smile. “Ye dinna think it’s too risky?”

Claire kisses him again before she pulls back to turn off the car, opening the door as she answers. “It’s going to be the riskiest thing you’ll ever do with our money,” she corrects, but after walking around to the passenger side of the car and opening the door, she waits until he’s out to finish her thought. “I’m not going to say ‘no risk, no reward.’”

“Oh, thank Christ. It’s uninspired.” His hands come to rest on her hips as his eyes study her face intently. “You’re serious, though? About looking into expanding, what it would take?”

Looking around at the currently unoccupied grounds, she walks with him toward the unattractive, not at all well-kept castle—a rarity for historical buildings in Scotland, as far as she’s observed. “I’m serious, Jamie. You’d never be happy knowing you could be doing more. You should look into it, find out what Ian thinks, and see about getting in touch with your cousin Jared? It’s different than wine, but he might have some useful contacts in the liquor business.”

Jamie has to stop solely to reach for her, ignoring the scenery around them and focusing on this woman he’ll be calling his wife in six months. With his hands at her sides, his forehead presses to hers. “You have no idea how incredible ye are. Everything I’ve done and all that I want to do, I’m no’ ever worried it’s too much to put ye through.”

“Silly man,” she says with a soft smile, nuzzling the side of his nose with her own. “Nothing about you could ever be too much.” Kissing him with a quiet, content sigh against his lips, she reaches for his hand after stepping away. “Now. Explore a castle before sunset with me?”

Following her lead and seeing a grand total of three other tourists while exploring, he listens while she tells him everything she knows about the castle, including that it was once difficult to determine which areas had been outdoor spaces and which were actually interior rooms. It was a confusing space, and as they cross the property to look out at the cliffs, she stands close enough to Jamie that an arm winds around her without thinking much about it.

“Are ye pleased wi’ yer Samhein road trip, Sassenach? Is this terrifyin’ enough for ye?”

“It isn’t what I thought it would be after reading the book,” she notes idly. “I had no expectations, and the view is beautiful. The drive was worth it. This just feels...I don’t know. Cold.”

“Could be that it’s currently freezin’ out,” Jamie notes, getting an elbow to the side for his wit. “Could ye imagine livin’ in a castle? Having meals in great rooms, wandering the stone halls wi’ a torch.”

“Is that how you imagine us? Living in a castle with a staff to wait on us hand and foot?” They walk to the interior of the castle now, stopping in a room with a fireplace. “This could have been a bedroom, for all we know. Imagine a large bed with four posts. A crackling fireplace.”

She’s stepped away from him to look into various nooks and crannies, and it gives him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her from behind. “I’m certainly imagining a few specific things,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Of course you are,” she says with a smile so large he can feel the way her body relaxes with it.

“I’m thinking of making love to ye on the floor wi’ a bear skin rug beneath us. A fire going in the hearth.”

Closing her eyes, she tries to picture it, the way the room would have looked and felt; dark, probably, with the hearth doubling as warmth and light. “Would you mind it much? Not having electricity or modern conveniences?”

“If you were wi’ me? Nah,” he murmurs as he turns her to face him, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Dinna think I would mind much at all, so long as we were together.”

Pressing closer to escape the chill, her arms wrap fully around him as he reciprocates and both of them sink into one another.

“Are you happy?” Claire suddenly inquires, whispering the question as they stand together in the ruins.

“I dinnae ken if how happy I am can be measured properly. I’m happy to be here wi’ ye right now. Happy to do all of this driving, happy to be marrying ye, Claire.” Moving his fingers under her chin, he tilts her head up in order to deepen their kiss.

She gives in easily, lips parting as his tongue does a very thorough exploration of her mouth. As he does, her hands wander, dragging to the button of his jeans. “We may not have the furs or the fire, but I could certainly see about making you a little happier,” she offers with a coy grin, then pauses. “Unless there are qualms.” Her raised eyebrows suggest she knows there will be exactly zero qualms.

“If I tell ye to stop, it’ll only be on account of unexpected company. But at some point, my brain willna work and ye’ll be on yer own.”

“Well,” she begins, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down as her hands cup equal handfuls of a heavenly sculpted backside. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” When she kisses him, she can feel his laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You. How long have ye been thinkin’ about this?”

“Honestly?” she asks, backing him up a couple of feet until he can brace against what she hopes is a sturdy wall.

“Aye, of course.” His eyes follow her movements as she sinks to her knees in front of him, but she delays answering to softly kiss along the line of his pelvis. It’s enough to convince his cock as one hand reaches for her hair.

“On the cliffs.” She licks her palm, wraps her hand around him, and begins a slow stroke. “You were taking a picture of the view.”

“Really got ye goin’?”

Instead of saying anything in return, Claire presses her lips to the tip of him before using both mouth and hand to show him exactly how inspirational she found his body in profile. Dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, she hums in response to his long, low groan as one hand holds onto his thigh.

“Christ, Sassenach, do that again,” Jamie requests, panting, eyes so dark they nearly look black as he watches her intently.

She does as he asks, letting her tongue travel the length of him, slower this time. The way he shudders makes her own arousal ache pleasantly, so she indulges in the action once more. After repeating the action a fourth time, her mouth moves away in order to kiss along his inner thighs softly, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Each shaky inhale is a point of pride, and when he least suspects, Claire’s mouth moves around him again, this time finding a rhythm and not moving away.

With one hand pressing flat against the wall behind him, the other tangles in her hair. He doesn’t move her, but rather uses her curls to anchor himself. He focuses on the feel of them, the way they stretch but spring back to life instantly. He thinks of anything to keep from coming too soon, though she certainly is hell-bent.

“I’m no’—” he curses in Gaelic, wondering if this is how she feels when he’s greedy for her. “Mas e do thoil e, Sassenach,” he pleads, and the hand against the old castle wall attempts to clutch the stone as his body begins to tense.

It’s impossible to resist when he says please, and so she moves intently, closing her eyes as she focuses not on what she’s doing necessarily, but on him. The way the pads of his fingers grip her shoulders instead of his nails (she offers no such courtesy), and the way he’s careful not to actually pull her hair. His breathing, where before he took controlled but shaky breaths, is now panting gasps, each sound beginning to hitch. When she knows he’s going to come, one hand drags its way up his inner thigh to feel the way his muscles tighten, and the loud groan of her name is enough that she can feel the vibration from his body to her palm.

He loses it completely after that, head dropping back as his vision darkens and he’s sure he’s left his body. When pleasure begins to ebb and his heart seems content not to pound out of his chest, Jamie still can’t open his eyes. Her hands are warm on his body, but eventually she tucks him back into his boxers and jeans before standing. It’s then that he finally looks at her, a lopsided and lazy grin greeting her.

“Are you happy, Sassenach?”

As his arms envelop her, Claire rests her head so that she can listen to the now-normal beat of his heart.

“Aye, Jamie,” she replies, kissing his chest tenderly before raising her head to look at him. “I am.”

#outlander #outlander fic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #market price #my fic

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kyouryokusenshi · 5 years

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Hotel California

My MUCH MUCH belated 50 states fic has arrived.

Summary: Mulder and Scully stay in a swanky California hotel in the Bay Area. Set sometime after Plus One, but before Rm9. “A Map of Us: 50 States of Sex” challenge by @viceversawrites and @softnow

Tagging some other folks: @baronessblixen @danceswithcybermen @kikocrystalball @cultureisdarkbeer @fragilevixenfic @suitablyaggrieved @today-in-fic

A/N: I am soooo sorry it took this long for me to get this out. I’ve been in a major writing rut and life has just been crazy. As you may have guessed, the title was inspired by the song Hotel California. I also don’t own any rights to it, of course. :)

Shedding her coat was one of the first things Scully had done upon exiting the plane at SFO. The tight proximity of the plane cabin on the six-hour non-stop flight had her feeling nauseous and claustrophobic in addition to her usual airborne anxiety.

“You alright, Scully?” Mulder asked as he gently palmed her shoulder.

She could feel his gaze soaking up the entirety of her, carefully analyzing in case he found her answer less than satisfactory.

Scully regarded him carefully as he smoothed a lock of stray hair behind her shoulder while they waited for their luggage. She opened her mouth as she considered her words.

“I, uh...hot flashes,” she let out a chuckle. “I guess I should give up and join the AARP club.”

Mulder shook his head as he placed his hand on the small of her back. “Well, at least, I’ll no longer be flying solo in that club.”

Scully looked at him in shock. “Wow, you never fail to surprise me, Mulder.”

“Hey,” he rebuked. “Sooner or later, we’re gonna retire, remember? Those discounts will come in handy. May as well start saving now. I’ve been out of work for over a decade, remember?”

Scully smiled. “You have a valid point.” She couldn’t help but admit that this new frugal Mulder was turning her on.

“Well, what can I say, those online couponing groups are also pretty useful.”

“I must admit,” Scully started as they reached for their luggage as it came along on the conveyor belt, “I’m excited to see this swanky hotel you put us up in and how on Earth you managed to get it by Skinner.”

Mulder smiled. “I was taking more of an ‘act now and ask questions later’ approach.”

“Oh, Mulder,” Scully sighed, resigned. “I guess some things never change- which is oddly comforting.”

“Just think of it as a belated birthday gift, courtesy of yours truly, the Hoover Building, and Big Orange.”

-----

Once they retrieved their things and walked out to the pickup area, Mulder pulled up the Uber app and requested a ride. Sure enough, a friendly driver by the name of Jose pulled up to the curb in a red Nissan Versa.

The gentleman who appeared in his mid- to late- thirties rolled down the window. “Bob?”

“Yes,” Mulder remarked quickly before the younger man hopped out of the car to assist them with their luggage.

Mulder exchanged a quick glance over at Scully, who was, indeed, raising her eyebrow in amusement. “Are you having an identity crisis, Mulder?”

Jose reached for their suitcases-- to which Mulder happily obliged as the driver placed them into the trunk of his car.

“You try explaining Fox for the millionth time,” he quipped, palming her shoulder as she reached for the door to the front passenger seat. “It does make for some interesting conversation.”

With Mulder in the back seat and Scully in front, they admired their coastal surroundings and bustling of the city. Several electric Bird scooters lay tossed haphazardly upon the sidewalk as they passed through some great and not so great parts of the city.

“So you’re from D.C., huh?” the driver mused from behind his shades. “What brings you out here?”

“We’re FBI Agents,” Mulder provided as the driver’s eyes went wide.

“No shit?”

“We’re not really here on business, though-- at least, not exactly. My partner here just had a birthday last week.”

“Oooh, well happy belated birthday. I must say, though, the hotel I’m taking you to is pretty swanky. You won’t be disappointed,” he said, glancing back at Scully.

“Is that so?” Scully said, catching Mulder’s gaze in the mirror.

-----

Minutes later, after some sightseeing suggestions, they pulled up in front of a highrise building that was smaller than many of the others that surrounded it. Once the driver retrieved their luggage and bid them farewell, Mulder opened the Uber app and left the guy five stars with a generous tip.

Scully happened to catch a glance at the screen. “Is Skinner paying for that, too?”

Mulder smirked as he pocketed his phone. “Go big or go home, Scully.”

She sighed as they entered the building. “Well, we’ve already come this far.”

As they entered the lobby, they were greeted with an abundance of boutique decorations that were modernized mid-century style. Scully turned to look over her shoulder at Mulder and nodded in amusement.

“Wow, Mulder, you really outdid yourself.”

“I try,” he purred, slipping his arm around her shoulders, steering them towards check-in. “I try.”

If the lobby decor was anything to go by, Scully should have been prepared for the boutique designs that had awaited them in the room. The room itself wasn’t huge, but it was clearly a recent design with a mid-century modern flair. The walls were an orange-ish red to contrast the wooden flooring. A king-sized bed lay in the middle as a large heart-shaped jacuzzi tub was just opposite of the room.

The urge to rid Mulder of his clothing right then and there was extremely tempting.

Mulder turned back towards her, clearly reading her thoughts as he closed the space between them. “Now, I know what you’re thinking, Scully; I’m thinking the same thing, but I made a dinner reservation that’s a half-hour from now. Let the anticipation build some, hmm?”

Scully startled as Mulder placed one arm around her and the other at her thigh, and in one swooping motion, she was dipped backward as his lips fell onto hers. “Oh!” She closed her eyes as she allowed him to support her weight, returning the kiss with fervor.

“Mmm,” Mulder moaned as he felt her tongue slipped between his lips. He hardened involuntarily against his slacks, brushing against her thigh in the process.

Scully moved into the kiss further, tasting him as she placed an arm around his shoulders.

Mulder reveled in the taste of her before breaking the contact. “Jesus, what you do to me, woman,” he breathed heavily.

“Who needs seafood for dinner when I can have you?” Scully rasped, a teasing glint in her eye.

“Mmm… as amazing as that sounds, Scully, the kid-sized peanuts and pretzels for the past seven hours—courtesy of the airline staff-- doesn’t quite do it for me.

“It had better not disappoint, Mulder.”

----

They somehow managed to collect themselves over the next several minutes before Mulder had called for an Uber on his phone. They were nearly running down the hall to the elevator once they realized the driver was less than a minute away already.

“Chasing Ubers can be like chasing monsters, I guess,” Mulder remarked on the elevator ride down.

Scully rolled her eyes as the door opened before rushing out into the corridor.

The trip itself wasn’t long, but a good portion of it involved them sitting in traffic as per usual in the East Bay Area according to the driver. Mulder looked over and smiled at Scully. She met his gaze and returned his smile at the driver’s choice of music and lyrics from Hotel California began to play.

“On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair

Warm smell of colitas, rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim

I had to stop for the night.

There she stood in the doorway;

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself

'This could be heaven or this could be Hell'

Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way

There were voices down the corridor,

I thought I heard them say

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)”

Scully turned to look at Mulder, it finally having dawned on her the significance of this song. In her tone-deaf voice, Scully sang, softly.

“Such a lovely face. Plenty of room at the Hotel California. Any time of year, any time of year, you can find it here.”

Mulder chuckled. “I thought you couldn’t sing.”

“I can’t,” she scoffed, gazing out the window at the immaculate view of the Golden Gate Bridge and the tranquil blue waters in the distance. Her lips curved upwards, “But, it’s the Eagles, how can you not?”

Mulder looked over at her, struck suddenly by those blue depths as he often was. He leaned forward and Scully met him halfway, her lips connecting instantly with his. God, he couldn’t get enough of her.

Until recently, he didn’t want to get his hopes up that she’d want to rekindle what they’d had together for so many years. He was uncertain if the night at the St. Rachel motel was more than a desire to combat the loneliness he that plagued them both.

“Hey, don’t take it any further back there, alright?” the Uber driver warned.

A few minutes and several discarded Lime scooters along the street later, they arrived at their destination for the night; a restaurant along the Pacific Ocean's cliff. The sun had just started to set, crimson melting into the sky as the sun cast its final sheen onto the water’s surface.

Once they were inside, a busboy asked if they had a reservation, to which Mulder provided the name Bob once again.

He smirked knowingly as Scully cast him another look.

The interior of the restaurant was as fancy as the hotel Mulder had reserved; although, they were surrounded by double-paned windows instead of walls that provided a breath-catching view of the ocean outside.

“Oh, Mulder, you shouldn’t have,” she teased as they sat down.

They were just short of beating the evening rush as several people began to pour in shortly after. A server stopped by to offer a selection of wine and Scully eagerly claimed a bottle of red that the younger gentleman had boasted was local to Napa.

Mulder raised a toast to Scully before watching the way the red liquid touched her lips and the way her tongue claimed the excess as she set the glass down.

“Scully, did you know over ninety percent of the wine in the United States is produced in California?”

“Considering I spent some time in this state, I could have easily guessed,” she remarked as she took another swig of wine.

“Hey, I gotta keep you on your toes,” he retorted as he playfully lifted his eyebrows.

Scully opted for a plate of seafood pasta, with the seafood being locally sourced, as Mulder opted for prime rib.

Scully cast a glance around the spacious interior of the restaurant, looking at tables filled with people and chatter as the sky darkened outside. Mulder had rid himself of his coat and she couldn’t help but notice the scent of his cologne permeating through the air between them. He must have put it on in their mad dash to ready themselves for dinner. She wished she'd have thought to pack a small vial of perfume for this trip.

Their dinner arrived within twenty minutes, most of which was spent in silence as they admired the sunset and colorful hues of the sky outside the vast windows. Once Scully finished her food, she hoped she wouldn't have any issues keeping it down.

After they managed to finish off a bottle of wine, Mulder paid the bill, much to Scully's chagrined reluctance and they meandered their way outside to the patio, which was surprisingly empty. As the brisk air passed over them, they could see why.

Scully shivered as they gazed out at the now darkened sky, rubbing warmth into her arms. Mulder seemed to take note of this an instantly shed his coat and draped it around her before she could offer a rebuttal.

"Remember how I told you about the stars, how they're billions of years old?" Mulder mused.

Scully couldn't help but laugh at the memory. "How could I forget? At one point, I thought you were among them," she explained.

Mulder turned towards her as a moment of melancholy settled between them.

"I spent thirty minutes talking to Skinner about souls and starlight."

To her surprise, they both let out a chuckle.

"Good. Now, he can pay it forward," Mulder chuckled.

Scully didn't seem to catch on to this last statement as her gaze traveled up and down Mulder's well-tailored suit, which was snug in all the right places.

While a ways from being drunk, she was feeling euphoric effects of the buzz she had going.

"Scully?" Mulder promoted, making her realize she had been quietly staring at him for a good few minutes.

"Huh?"

"Did you want to take a little walk?"

"No, I actually think I want to go back to the hotel and, erm, make use of the facilities you paid so much for."

Mulder eyed her for a moment before nodding reluctantly.

Twenty minutes later, they were back at the hotel and Scully opened the drapes to reveal the iridescent lights of the city before them. It was a breathtaking view.

"So, I was thinking we could walk around the city tomorrow; check out Pier 39, walk around the Golden Gate Bridge or heck, take a boat ride to Alcatraz… "

"You know, Mulder," Scully interjected from the bathroom, "I just realized there's only one bed."

Mulder felt like a deer in headlights. He still wasn't quite sure where they stood, but after that case with the twins and the fact that Scully was at the house regularly, he figured it odd to be sleeping in separate rooms at this point.

He scratched his head nervously. "I, erm, well, I can… take the couch."

Mulder was wholly unprepared for what came next. Scully exited the restroom, having shed her blouse down to reveal a lacy black bra.

A shiver of anticipation passed through him at the sight. If it was cold before, the room suddenly felt extremely hot.

"I'm kidding, Mulder."

"Oh, I uh...um…"

He turned away, not wanting to make any further assumptions. They both had had plenty to drink, though most of his buzz had tapered off already.

"So...any of those sound good to you?" He asked nervously.

"Think," she mused playfully, "we can figure out something.” Her sultry tone was not lost on him.

As she moved closer, he turned toward her, feeling himself harden in response and unable to look away as his gaze traveled up and down her body.

Mulder seemed to be asking a silent question with his gaze, to which Scully responded by reaching to unbutton her skirt and allowing it to all but drop to the floor in a haphazard heap.

Mulder could feel his heartbeat quicken and thump against his chest at the sight. The next thing he knew, his hands were moving on their own accord to free himself from the confines of his pants.

As he did so, Scully crossed in front of him and playfully pushed him back onto the bed before assisting him with stripping his pants the rest of the way down.

Mulder let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding as he stared up at the intricate contemporary artwork on the ceiling. He allowed himself to be at Scully's mercy, letting her have full control over how far she wanted this to go. The next thing he knew, the warmth of her mouth enveloped his length, moving up and down, sucking him into the back of her throat with a hum.

She took her time in pleasuring him, savoring the taste of him like a popsicle.

"Oooh, I'm not going to last long at this rate, Scully," he moaned, feeling himself throb inside the sheath of her mouth.

Scully pulled back then, licking her lips and savoring the taste of him before crawling onto the bed on her hands and knees and straddling him between her legs.

As she neared, Mulder was entranced by the sight of her voluptuous breasts as if he was privileged to see them for the first time. Other than their recent encounters a few weeks back while investigating the doppelganger case, they hadn't been intimate for a few years, and it seemed like an eternity.

As Mulder reached for them, Scully's hand found his, guiding it to her chest. As she moved to unclasp her bra, Mulder’s hands were covering hers as they both worked to free her from the contraption. He could swear they seemed slightly fuller than before, but maybe it was his imagination.

Scully let out a small gasp at his touch as his fingers explored her breasts as she moved on top of him. "Oh, God," she moaned.

Mulder gently nibbled on the small bud, the sensitivity shocking Scully to her core. Gently, he released her nipple as he allowed his tongue to slowly draw circles around her areola before trailing upward to her neck and jawline.

Scully leaned forward, pressing her lips against his ear and biting down slowly, gently nibbling on his upper ear before moving downward.

Mulder slipped his free arm underneath Scully in the process and the moment his fingers touched her folds, he could immediately feel the wetness seeping between them. He pushed inside, making a come hither motion with his index finger, causing her to yelp.

"Fuck me!"

Scully bucked against him involuntarily as he moved to tease her clit.

"Happy to oblige," he moaned.

Their mouths found their way back to one another and Scully felt her walls spasming against his touch.

He removed his finger and slipped it into his mouth, savoring the sweet tang of her before offering it to her. Realizing he couldn't wait much longer, he surprised her by shifting slightly as she parted her legs and slipped inside.

"Oh, Scully," he moaned.

The feeling of him inside her was welcoming as they began to work in tandem with each thrust. Mulder's hands supported her hips as she reached out to grasp the headboard.

"Oooohh fuuuck!" she nearly screamed. In that moment, she couldn't have given a fuck less if anyone overheard them.

Mulder threw his head back as he picked up the pace. He could tell she was close as he was.

"Yes, MULDER. YES!"

As he felt himself spill inside of her, he felt her walls ripple against him before feeling her release. With a heavy sigh, Scully relaxed against him. The moment was euphoric even though everything went so fast.

Mulder moaned as Scully shifted to move beside him, her hands finding their way down his chest, her fingers taking delicate care along the way. Neither wished for the moment to end. Scully felt Mulder’s hand find its place on her lower back as she moved closer to his face, teasing him with her bottom lip until their mouths connected.

Closing his eyes, Mulder moaned into the contact, his tongue moving in sync with hers, relishing the taste of her mouth and the softness of her breasts pressing against him. Scully finally pulled back with a gasp, allowing the air to seep through her lungs as she lay on her back. It was as if she had forgotten to breathe.

Mulder smiled in spite of himself, allowing a moment to pass before he moved to sit beside Scully as they faced the opened window that overlooked the city lights.

“Talk about an afterglow,” Scully said as she rolled over onto her stomach. “Were the curtains open this whole time?”

“Yeah,” Mulder chuckled. “Good thing we’re on the top floor, huh?” he said with a chuckle.

Scully hummed as she moved to wrap herself inside the warmth of the top comforter.

“You planned all this didn’t you?”

A smile pulled at Mulder’s lips as he leaned over, brushing her hair aside as he nuzzled her neck with his nose. “Well, I am a dark wizard, Scully.”

“Mmm, is that so?” she moaned, lifting her brows suggestively as he pulled away. Their lips found one another again and they closed their eyes, savoring the moment.

Opening her eyes, Scully looked at Mulder and a sly smile tugged at her lips. “Well then, I can think of a few more things that could use some...magic,” she whispered as she lifted the comforter.

“Oh, now you’re talking,” he said suggestively as he dove under the covers with Scully squealing in delight, enjoying the contact. She could feel the heat of his mouth as it neared her center, sending a gentle shiver up her spine. Mulder’s tongue slowly began to tease her clit and she writhed underneath him as she yelped out in excitement.

“Ohhh God!”

Mulder stopped only momentarily, grinning to himself. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and how she was instantly putty in his hands. He continued diving into her warm core, savoring the taste of her.

Slowly but surely, they would make their way back to one another. It had been set into motion since they first went back to the FBI together. The stars seemed to align more perfectly than ever before as they got back to their bread and butter.

END

#50statesofsex #xfilesfanfiction #mulderandscully #smut

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