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honeyhotteoks · 2 years

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hold fast together (j.yh + p.sh)

summary: fourth installment in the husbands series; you want more, you want a family, but it’s never quite that simple part one: room for three || part two: and if i stay || part three: their gift

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this is just all the husbands yunhwa angst, fluff, smut, love, all of it. check the warnings before you read though!

warnings: non idol!yunho, non idol!seonghwa, fem!reader, married!yunhwa, established yunhwa x reader relationship, mmf, fertility issues, period talk, conception talk, stress and angst over conceiving, mention of adoption, brief mention of parental disapproval of reader’s relationship with yunhwa, but then on a lighter note.... praise, degredation/humilitation, reference to bdsm collar, use of puppy but not pet play this time, rough foreplay, rough sex, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), face riding, cum eating, cumshots, creampie, heavy handed breeding kink obviously, hard dom hwa and use of sir, hard dom yunho and use of daddy, anal play (m receiving), gratuitous use of good girl, sweet girl, pretty girl, slut, etc., spanking/impact play..... anyways this one starts off emo and then gets into filthy breeding kink that very few people asked for but HEY here we are - please let me know if i missed any.

pairings: yunho x seonghwa x reader

genre: smut, angst, fluff

word count: 12K

my masterlist || read it on AO3 || part five; a little more love to give

A little part of you is hoping you’re wrong, that the cramping is something else, but you’ve gotten so used to the feeling over the course of fifteen plus years of having a period that you know your hopes are just that. You use the bathroom quietly, chewing the inside of your lip and thinking about the unopened pack of pregnancy tests in the drawer next to you. The telltale feeling of blood makes you ill.

You’ve been trying for a baby for a while. Longer than some of your friends, but not as long as other people you know who’ve struggled with fertility issues, but none of it makes you feel any better. For all the years of birth control pills, condoms, panicked emergency contraception and cycle tracking, you always thought that once you were ready this was going to be easy. Decades of messaging about how birth control was never one hundred percent effective always made it seem like a single misstep would leave you knocked up in a minute. You never really considered you’d have to really try to get pregnant.

You give yourself a little time to cry, slapping the tap on high to muffle some of the sounds of your sniffling. You give yourself five minutes, just five, to live inside this confusing sadness, and then you pat your face dry and resolve that it’s time to get on with it. You open the drawer, ignore the pregnancy tests sealed tightly in plastic, and fish a tampon out of their open box. When you’re finally ready to leave the bathroom, your eyes are a little red but it’s not immediately obvious that you’ve been crying, and that’ll have to be good enough.

Yunho and Seonghwa are still sleeping when you quietly pad out of the room, though they’ve rolled closer to each other with you out of bed. In the kitchen you start your morning routine, and you try not to think about it. You make coffee, disregarding the ache in your back. You put away the dry dishes, trying not to fixate on the number of periods you’ve gotten since you started trying for a baby. But that’s hard, especially with the pain of your first day cramps and the way you just want to curl up in a ball and go to sleep until it’s over.

Your eyes fill with tears again, and you pour yourself a cup of coffee through blurred, cloudy vision. You reach up into the cupboard above the stove where you keep the medicine and the first aid kit and find the bottle of pain-killers, your breath hitching as your tears come faster. You knock your hand against your too-full cup of coffee and it spills across the counter, and you bite your tongue to keep from letting it get to you. It’s just an accident.

It isn’t until you are trying to open the top of the bottle that your brain really starts to spiral. You can’t quite get the child lock arrows to line up, and the lid just won’t budge. Through your hazy tears you can’t really see where the arrows are, and frustrated heat flushes through your cheeks. Can’t one, single thing be easy? The arrows align right as you double your efforts pressing up on the lid in an attempt to force the bottle open, and it all but explodes in your hands. Tiny blue pills scatter everywhere, clattering across the counters and floor, the entire contents of the bottle upended.

The white hot rage that bubbles inside you is fast and hard and you snap, throwing the empty bottle down with a tight sob, “God dammit!” You sink low, dropping to your knees on the tile and biting back the urge to break something else, anything else.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kneeling here, trying futilely to gather up a little pile of the pills while the coffee finally makes it to the edge of the counter so it can drip down onto the tile next to you, but you hear his footsteps before he says anything. Yunho waits a moment, and you hear him pick up the bottle to your side before he sighs, “Oh, my love,”

“Please, don’t,” You shake your head.

“It’s okay,” He tries to soothe.

“Do not tell me this is okay,” You say sharply, “nothing about this okay,”

“Alright,” He murmurs, crouching by your side. His broad hand rests in the middle of your back, and you jerk at the sudden contact.

“Just give me a second,”

“Okay,” He draws his hand back.

“I’ll get it together,” You such in a sharp breath, “and I’ll clean this up,”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Yunho shakes his head, “just take a deep breath. Everything is,” he pauses, “going to be fine,”

“Is Seonghwa awake?” You turn towards him, scrubbing your tears away with the towel you had picked up to mop up the coffee.

“Not yet,” The face he’s giving you is so soft that you might scream.

“Don’t tell him,” You shake your head, “just… I’ll do it later, I just,”

“y/n,” Yunho murmurs, “come on, don’t do that,”

You haul yourself up from the floor and drop the towel over the coffee spill, watching the way the dark liquid seeps into the white cloth. Your jaw locks together and you swallow tightly, kicking yourself back into gear and cleaning up the mess.

Yunho stands behind you and lays a hand on your neck, kneading your skin here gently, “Baby,”

“Just don’t,” You repeat, “please, don’t tell him today,”

“Don’t tell me what?” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through, muffled by his yawn and you curse softly.

Yunho sighs and drops a kiss to your hair before turning to him, “Morning,”

“Good morning to you too,” You hear the confusion in his voice but he makes it further into the room and you can practically hear the puzzle pieces slot themselves together in his brain, “oh,”

That’s the tone you were hoping to avoid, Seonghwa’s soft disappointment.

You release the collection of pills that you had picked up from the floor, leaving them in a neat little pile on the counter, and your tears rush up again. Yunho folds his arms around you instantly, cradling you against his chest and hushing you, his broad hand rubbing a firm, comforting line up your back.

“I know you don’t want me to say it’s okay,” Yunho says, his voice low, “but I promise you that it is,”

You squeeze your eyes shut tight, hiding in his chest and hanging onto the back of his shirt while you try to get yourself under control. You can’t help the way your mind starts counting though, going through every month. The first couple were easy to brush off, but now it’s not so easy.

“Ten months,” You sob into his chest, “it’s been ten months,”

“I know,” He murmurs.

“We’ve been trying so hard,”

“So we’ll try harder, or something different,” He soothes, “and they said it can take time for your body to re-regulate after coming off birth control. We’re not in a rush,”

“I’m thirty-two,” You push back from his chest and wipe the tears away.

“Mhm,” He nods, “I know that,”

You can’t even so much as glance at Seonghwa, a single shred of his sad eyes at yet another month with no happy announcement would have you spiraling. You know how much he wants a child, how deeply he wants to be a father.

You drop your eyes, shaking your head as your back cramps again, “I just don’t know why I can’t even give you this,”

“What?” Yunho’s voice is suddenly small, soft.

“I’m supposed to be able to do this,” Your real fears bubbles up your throat, “y-you want to be parents so badly, I should be able to do this,”

The silence stretches. Yunho looks stricken, your words rooting him to the spot.

Seonghwa steps closer, resting his hands gingerly on your arms and finally breaking his silence, “Do you think that’s all we love you for? All we want you for?”

You can’t answer.

He shifts to your side, kissing your temple and cupping your cheek in his warm palm, “You’re our wife,” he insists, “we didn’t want you because we thought you could make us parents, y/n, we want you. We all want to be parents, all of us together. Don’t we?”

Hot pinpricks behind your eyes start again, but you nod into his palm, “I know, I’m sorry, I know,”

“Yunho,” Seonghwa reaches out a hand, tugging him in close to make a circle. Seonghwa smiles, kissing you tenderly and then says, “This, the three of us, that’s what’s right.”

“What if I can’t get pregnant?” You sigh, “What then?”

“Then we see a doctor,” Yunho says, his voice thick with emotion before he clears it and gives you a comforting smile, “and if that doesn’t work, we’ll find another way. We’ll get a surrogate. We’ll adopt. There’s a million ways to have a baby, we just have to stay calm and stick together in this,”

“I know you wanted it to be easy,” Seonghwa murmurs, “we all did, but sometimes it’s not easy. For millions of people it’s not easy,”

Your mind flicks back to the expression on your mother’s face when she suggested it was because you were being greedy trying to love two men. You haven’t spoken to her since. You shake that off and lean into your partners, “Okay,”

“Yunho’s right,” Seonghwa reassures you, “we have time, and we have options.”

You know they’re right, it’s the speech you’ve been giving to yourself too in moments of panic, but hearing them say it finally starts to put you at ease.

“For right now just relax,” Yunho kisses your hair, “you’re not feeling well so let’s go back to bed a while, it’s still early,”

“Mm,” You nod, wiping away the last remnants of your tears and pushing away from them with a sigh, “you’re right, I’m tired,”

“Let’s go,” Seonghwa says.

Yunho and Seonghwa communicate silently with their eyes, and Yunho stays behind in the kitchen to clean up while Seonghwa ferries you back to bed. He makes short work of getting your heating pad plugged in and laid out across the bed and fluffing up the pillows before tucking you back in. Yunho brings you a fresh cup of coffee and a glass of water, two pain-killers tucked into his palm for you.

“I’m sorry about before,” You sigh as he passes the pills over to you.

“Don’t be,” He brushes off your words.

“No,” You insist, “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that,”

He nods, a soft murmur of thanks on his lips.

You sigh heavily, rubbing your hands over your face and smoothing back your hair, finally getting your emotions back in check, “Are you getting up, then?” you ask them.

Seonghwa shakes his head immediately, crawling back into bed, “You’re stuck with me,”

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” He nods, snuggling close and kissing any scrap of skin he can reach, “we can spend the day in bed if you want, whatever you want,”

“You’re supposed to write today,” You remind him, painfully aware of his fast approaching deadlines and how the stress has kept him from staying on track.

Seonghwa shrugs, “That’s the beauty of my job,” he smiles, “I can do it whenever I want,”

“Hwa,” You hesitate.

“If I tell you that I need this too, will you stop arguing and just let me hold you?” He sighs.

You nod, your voice stuck in your throat and you simply take his hand, letting yourself soften in his embrace. Behind you, Yunho slides into bed himself and tucks himself long against your back. He’s quiet though, so much more silent than you normally see. He should be complaining about the heating pad being too hot or your feet being too cold, he should be making some kind of joke or trying his best to comfort you both, but instead all you can feel is his tension.

“Yunho,” You brush your hand over his, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, sweetheart,” His hand slips away.

“You can talk to me,” You press him, “I know this is hard on you both too,”

There’s a long pause, Yunho shifting in bed behind you until he settles but still says nothing. Your eyes flick to Seonghwa who watches him intently, trying to read into his husband’s sudden silence.

Finally, Yunho sighs. “What you said earlier,” He murmurs, “I don’t understand why you’re blaming yourself for something that isn’t your fault. And it’s upsetting you more than you’re letting us know, and I don’t like it.”

“Oh,” You breathe

“It’s no one’s fault,” He presses, “and I don’t want to hear you say something like that again,”

You’re silent, still as you take in his words, but Seonghwa laughs humorlessly and then says, “Besides, it could be me,”

“What?” You twist in Yunho’s arms to see Seonghwa better.

“It takes two,” He shrugs, rubbing his hand over his neck, “someone has to actually get you pregnant, and it’s entirely possible that I can’t,”

“Stop it,” Yunho says immediately, shifting up to a sitting position, “we’re not doing this,”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Seonghwa says, and you watch his expression fall when he realizes his words.

Yunho’s jaw tightens but he shakes it off, “Like I said, we’re not doing this. There’s no blame, no fault, this is just a thing we have to figure out. Together.”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa murmurs, and Yunho reaches across you to take his hand.

“I’ll make an appointment,” You interrupt softly, “I think it’s time,”

Yunho eases back down on one side, and Seonghwa follows on your other. You’re tucked between them on your heating pad, and Yunho pulls the comforter back up over the three of you to combat the winter chill of your apartment. Seonghwa smooths his hand over your lower belly and starts to gently press and circle his fingers, lightly massaging your tense muscles in just the way you need.

“So, we’ll talk to a doctor then?” Seonghwa nods, “and go from there,”

“Yeah,” You feel tears in your eyes again but you take a deep inhale and will them away.

“For now,” Yunho says, brushing your hair away from your face, “let’s not think about it. Let’s relax and go back to normal, I can’t watch the stress eat you both up anymore,”

“Are you okay?” You meet Yunho’s eyes.

“I’m always okay,” He shakes off your question.

You lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips, relishing in the feeling of his warm hand brushing over your cheek. You know this process is taking a toll on him too, but he takes being the rock in your relationship so seriously that you can almost barely tell. He’s been the voice of reason and positivity ever since things started to get harder and harder. He manages the worries of both of you, he keeps you calm and steady.

“We’ll make an appointment,” Seonghwa agrees, “and then you’re right, let’s just live our lives a bit. If it happens, it happens. And whatever the doctor says, we’ll go from there.”

“And if there is something wrong?” Your murmur.

“There’s a million ways,” Seonghwa repeats Yunho’s words, committed to them, holding them like a sure prayer.

“A million ways,” You repeat softly, nodding.

You’re doing your best, and so are they. Almost a year of this stress fundamentally changing so many aspects of your relationship, parts of it are almost unrecognizable. You’re caught with a foot in two lives, missing the way it used to be but desperately aching for something more. You have to keep telling yourself that it’s a test, that’s all this is. Nothing can be so easy that everything always and forever falls into place.

*****

“I miss coffee,” You sigh, propping your head up on the pillow behind you and looking down at Yunho.

He smiles, lips curving up against the skin of your belly as he gives you featherlight kisses, lying between your open legs and smoothing his warm hands over your skin. He presses another kiss to your hip and then looks up at you, “I know, but she said it could help,”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t miss it,” You nudge him with your knee and he chuckles.

The doctor had told you a lot of things, an overwhelming amount of advice on how to increase your chances of getting pregnant before she would recommend putting you on any kind of formal fertility treatment. You and Seonghwa both turned out to both be perfectly healthy, not a risk factor in sight for why you are having this much trouble conceiving. It’s a relief, but it isn’t an explanation. Aside from limiting caffeine, you’ve quit drinking, started better regulating your diet and taking a whole host of targeted vitamins and natural remedies. You’ve spent the last month and a half plotting out your ovulation days, and while it isn’t the most romantic way to conceive, at this point it doesn’t matter.

“Baby,” Yunho smiles, “as soon as you can have coffee again, I’ll buy you the fanciest espresso machine. You’ll have all the coffee you want,”

“Mm,” You reach for him, “promise?”

“Promise,” He nods, kissing you again.

“You think it’ll work this time?” You squeeze his hand.

Yunho sighs and squeezes you back, “I think it might,” he murmurs, “we know a lot more than we knew three months ago,”

“True,” You grin, “I didn’t know there could be so much to it,”

“Mm,” He nods, “but you’re feeling good? Stressed?”

Of course the thing Yunho heard at the doctor’s office louder than anything else was to limit stress. It made conceiving harder, and the early days after conception riskier. Ever since he’s been following you around with his every spare second, attempting to keep every tiny moment stress free.

“Yunho,” You assure him, “I’m just fine,”

“Sure?”

“Honestly, I’m weirdly zen about this whole thing,” You admit to him, “I feel really good about this time,”

He smiles, opening his mouth to say something but his phone rings next to you both and he reaches for it to cut off the sudden harsh sound. Seonghwa’s picture lights up his cell, and he slides his thumb across the screen, “Hi, yeobo,”

You can’t quite make out Seonghwa’s side of the conversation, but you can hear the intonation of his voice, and you smile at the sound of it.

“Yeah, she’s here,” Yunho says, looking up at you from his relaxed position, “mhm, yeah,”

You tap Yunho’s arm and get his attention, “He’s on his way?” you mouth to him quietly.

Yunho nods and then turns his attention back to his husband’s words. He smiles, “I’ll keep her company until you get here. Did you want to talk to her?”

You reach out your hand eagerly, wanting to hear Seonghwa’s voice and Yunho nods, passing the phone over to you.

“Hwa?”

“Hi, my love,” He says, his voice warm and lovely, “I’m on my way home,”

“I know,” You murmur, watching as Yunho starts fiddling with the fingers of your free hand, “we’re not in a rush or anything, take your time.”

“And you feel okay?” He asks.

“You both need to stop worrying,” You chuckle into the phone, “I feel good, positive,”

“Me too,” He murmurs.

It makes your heart warm, after all the months of struggling, this month you were approaching things differently. You’ve made a pact with them, to be hopeful and to not let any of the long term anxieties trickle in. The doctor had given you all the right assurances to help calm your minds, and you had been doing all the right things.

“Seonghwa,” You murmur, your thumb rubbing soft circles into Yunho’s palm as you talk to your other husband, “I love you so much,”

There’s a pause, but you hear his soft exhale, “Me too, I love you so much, darling,”

“I can’t wait for you to come home,” You admit to him, “I just know this is it,”

“Twenty minutes,” He says, “I’m on my way,”

“Okay,”

“Can you give the phone back to Yunho a minute?” Seonghwa asks softly.

“Mhm, I’ll see you soon,” You tell him, and reach the phone back out to Yunho.

“Hey,” Yunho says as he takes the call back.

You watch him listen, and then smile, throwing a quick glance at you. His hand tightens on your hip just a little, giving you a comforting squeeze, and then he says, “Of course, I can,” another beat passes, “Alright, I love you too,”

Once Yunho drops the phone he pushes himself back up onto his knees and slides over to your side, wrapping an arm around you and drawing you up onto his chest.

“Hey,” You laugh, letting him pull your body into the position he wants against his chest.

“Come here,” He squeezes you, “let me hold you a bit,”

Smiling against his shoulder you shake your head, “Did Hwa tell you to distract me or something?”

“No,” He answers quickly, “not exactly,”

“God,” You laugh, “you’re both going to be the most attentive fathers, we’re going to have to have more than one kid,”

Yunho’s hand pauses on your back and he gives you another squeeze, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” You kiss his chest, “all that attention on just one baby? You’ll spoil them so rotten,”

Yunho cups your cheek, drawing your eyes up and he studies your expression. He looks like he has something to say, but he’s debating, so you prod him a little to get him to give it up, whatever it is that he’s thinking. He strokes your cheek, “This is the first time you’ve talked about it since we started trying,”

“Kids?” Your brow furrows, “We talk about it constantly,”

“No,” He shakes his head, “we talk about getting pregnant constantly. We haven’t talked about kids, our kids, in… I don’t know, yeobo, it’s just… god it’s nice to hear,”

He’s right, you realize it instantly. You haven’t taken a moment to imagine it in a long time. The way you want your baby to have Seonghwa’s eyes and good head of hair, the way you always used to imagine your next child with Yunho having the perfect curve of his cupid’s bow. You used to fantasize about it all the time, a clear image of your husbands reading a storybook aloud with different voices for all the characters to make your babies laugh. Seonghwa fixing breakfast, Yunho grilling them meat for dinner. Painting their bedroom ceiling a starry sky, little lights in the night to hold them safe.

“I didn’t realize,” You admit, smoothing your hand over his chest, “I guess I was so afraid it might not happen,”

“And now?” You haven’t seen him look so truly hopeful in months.

“I realized you’re right,” You smile, “if it doesn’t work one way it will work another way. I’m not scared anymore,”

He smiles, his brown eyes soft and warm.

“I know it’ll happen,” You murmur to him, “as long as it’s the three of us, it’ll happen,”

His eyes are shining when he pushes forwards and captures your lips, pulling you up to meet his mouth and bruising your mouth with his. When you met them, you had no idea. Date after failed date with men who were right for you on paper in every possible way, but you could never, ever make yourself care. When you saw them across the bar that night, something different stirred in you, something clicking into place.

Yunho’s lips are warm, his tongue dipping into your mouth to catch against yours, and his hands suddenly feel everywhere, starving for you, aching. Your leg hitches up on his hip, drawing him closer and he slots himself back above you, his sweet, soft kisses from earlier are nowhere to be found now. His hands push up your sweater, like he’s desperate to find your skin, and you moan into his mouth.

“I need you,” He chokes against you, tugging down your leggings with his free hand.

“Y-Yunho,” You shudder, “slow down,”

He shakes his head, leaving them half off and caught around your knees, and he shifts to tug the sweater off over your head instead. Blush ignites up your chest as he touches you, so much needier and frantic than you’ve felt from him in months, and you feel your body responding, a rush of wetness between your thighs.

“You’re perfect,” He palms your breast, almost a little too roughly, pulling down the strap of your bra and kissing across your pink chest. You gasp as he tweaks your nipple between his fingers, your body already sensitive and on edge. Yunho shifts up between your knees, yanking your leggings down further, dragging your underwear with it, pushing your thighs open as wide as the fabric around your calves will allow.

You’re lost in the feeling, his tongue drawing a stripe up your chest and his hot hands traveling everywhere, and it takes a second for you to realize that he’s pushed his own sweatpants down. At the first bump of his hard cock against your wet folds, you moan, your body arching up into him. When he starts to press down, finding your entrance, logic and reason flood back into you.

“Yunho,” You push at his shoulders, “baby, wait,”

He pulls back a little, but his hips shift forward still.

“Baby, stop,” Your voice is firmer now, and he stills completely.

“Fuck,” His hips shift back, drawing his cock away from your core, “I’m sorry, god, I don’t know what got into me,”

“It’s fine,” You shake your head, kissing him again and smoothing your hands up and down his back, “we don’t have to stop, we just can’t,”

“I know,” He relaxes again, and this time the stiff line of his cock simply nestles between your wet folds, pressing the underside of his shaft firmly along your clit and he smiles when you shiver beneath him. He smooths the hair back from your face, “I fucking miss being inside you though,”

Despite Seonghwa’s protests at the beginning of it all, you and Yunho had made an agreement. Your first baby would be Seonghwa’s, and if you were only ever blessed with one, Yunho wanted his husband to be happy more than he needed a baby with his genes.

“I miss you too,” You sigh, “so much.” You roll your hips, dragging your clit along his shaft to chase a delicious pulse of pleasure, and you watch as his face falls, his hands tight on you again.

“If you keep doing that it’s going to make it really hard not to fuck you,” He groans, “it’s been months,”

It wasn’t for lack of trying other things though - he’d had you every other way imaginable since you stopped taking birth control, but your body still clenches at the thought. Smiling up at him you cup his cheek, running the pad of your thumb over his plush bottom lip and roll your hips again, “How would you fuck me?”

He swallows hard, his resolve crumbling and his eyes flick down to the necklace around your throat, “You really want to know?”

You haven’t heard that low voice in ages, so long since you’ve dipped into a scene with either of them. They’ve spent months being tender and careful with you, too cautious to really engage in the more intense dynamics you were used to. At the sound of his dominant tone slipping through, you whimper, nodding up at him.

Yunho drops low over you, his thick length pressing against your core more firmly and his arms caging you in. He nips at your lip and then drops slow kisses down your jaw, “You want to know what I’d do to you, baby?”

“Please,” You let your eyes slip closed.

He rocks his hips to give you a single stroke of friction on your clit and you gasp, warmth bubbling in your belly already. His teeth catch your earlobe and pull gently before he says, “Mm, you don’t sound like you really want to know,”

“I do,” You moan, your head falling back as he pumps his hips once more, “fuck, please, Yunho, tell me,”

“That’s better,” He praises softly, kissing along your throat.

You make a soft moan, your hips canting up once to drag your clit along his shaft again, and you can feel just how wet and slick you are as you try to catch better friction.

“I’d fold my pretty girl open,” Yunho says, his hand running a firm line over your exposed breast and down to your waist, “and I’d stuff her perfect, pink pussy full,”

“Fuck,” Your nails dig into his arm, “Yunho, oh my god,”

“You’re so wet, puppy,” He murmurs, rocking his hips again, “do you miss coming on my cock that badly?”

You moan again, choked and desperate, your mind spinning at the sudden change in heat between you and you think for a split second if he keeps talking to you like this you might come just from the sound of his voice alone.

“I asked you a question,” His words rocket you back into the moment, “are you too desperate to answer?”

“Yes,” You rock your hips again, rolling them now at a slow and steady pace to maintain the bubbling feeling of pleasure.

“Yes, you’re too desperate?” He teases, rising up above you so that you have to meet his eyes.

“Yes, I miss your cock,” You whine.

“What about it, pup?” He prompts you, a firm push on your cheek to bring your face back to center, “Come on,”

“Yes, yes, I miss coming on your cock,” You manage, dizzy and hot all over.

He pauses, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, and when the next words roll of his tongue you nearly come on the spot, “Say it right, babygirl,”

“Oh, fuck,” You shudder, and he takes over for you, working his hips a little faster so that his cock slips back and forth between your slick folds at the pace you need. Pleasure sparks from your core to your chest and you let your head fall back as you give him what he needs, “Yes, Daddy,”

He groans at your words, “Louder,”

“Yes, Daddy, I miss coming on your cock,” You moan, holding him closer, “god, Yunho, I’m, fuck, I’m gonna come,”

“Yes, you are pretty girl,” He pants.

The sound of keys dropping onto the dresser by the door shocks you both, and Yunho stills, a gasp bubbles from your lips at the noise and the sudden lack of steady stroking on your swollen bud and you whine softly under him.

“Shh,” Yunho soothes you, “hold on, baby,”

Seonghwa appears in your periphery, handsome as ever, and he unfastens the top two buttons of his shirt, his eyes hungry and dark already at the sight of you both. With a half smile on his lips, his eyes raking over your tangled bodies, you know which Seonghwa you’re getting. “You two look like complete messes,” He says, slipping off his jacket and laying on top of the dresser.

Your body is trembling, you had been so, so close to your orgasm and the sudden pull back of sensation has you feeling absolutely raw. Your hips twitch slightly under Yunho and he exhales tightly, giving you a look.

Yunho clears his throat softly and twists his torso so that he can better see his husband, still not making any moves to pull off you, “Hey,”

Seonghwa grins, softly biting his lip, and you watch as he takes the decorative chair from the corner and drags it along the carpet until it’s next to the bed. You watch as Yunho’s lips part, and you feel his cock twitch between your thighs.

“My beautiful, beautiful wife,” Seonghwa smiles, leaning forwards with his elbows resting on his splayed knees, “is Yunho making you feel good?”

You haven’t heard this voice in ages either, and your butterflies churn in your belly. You nod, your eyes locked on Seonghwa.

“Is he taking good care of you?” He asks.

“Mhm,” You sigh, “so good,”

“My love,” Seonghwa says, turning his eyes to Yunho, “you couldn’t wait?”

Yunho can’t answer, simply shaking his head.

“Good,” Seonghwa sits back in the chair, “don’t let me interrupt,”

“This isn’t really what we should be doing right now,” Yunho says, his voice still a little breathy.

“This is exactly what we should be doing,” Seonghwa shakes his head, “besides, our girl deserves our attention doesn’t she?”

Yunho’s hips shift forwards unconsciously, just a little, but the press forwards onto your clit has your breath caught in your throat and Seonghwa’s eyes shift to yours. He smiles, nodding at your little sound of pleasure, “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?”

“Hwa, please,” You feel like your entire body is trembling now, anticipation and adrenaline flooding through you.

“Alright, darling,” He soothes you, but his voice is still firm and controlled. He looks to Yunho and nods, “Make her come, I want to watch,”

“Fuck, yes,” Yunho drops down over you again, his hips pumping again, and he slips a hand under your backside to palm the soft swell of your ass and tilt your body into a better position.

The sudden fast drag of his skin over yours rips a choked moan from your lips and you grip down on Yunho’s shoulder, your other hand fisting into the bed sheets at your side, “Yunho, baby,”

“Tell me you missed me,” He threads his hand into your hair, softly tugging your head back and you arch beneath him, pushing your hips against his harder and harder.

“Ah,” You whine, “ah, fuck, baby I missed you so much,”

“You want to come don’t you?” He keeps thrusting up between your folds, dragging over you at the most perfect rhythm and you can barely breathe, rocketing back towards your orgasm at what feels like a blinding pace.

“Yes, god, yes,” You feel like you could cry the pleasure is so heady, your body missing this dynamic so much more than you even realized, and he isn’t even inside you.

“Then come, pretty girl,” he tweaks your nipple again, drawing you up faster, “I know you can,”

Your head tips back into the pillows, your body locking up with pleasure, hot with blush and inches from the edge. Yunho sucks in a sharp breath and when you open your eyes again you see Seonghwa shifting onto the bed behind him. He pulls your leggings the rest of the way off your body and Yunho shifts, dropping his hand over your clit to replace his cock and circle it quickly, dipping you backwards into your pleasure again so you don’t lose the orgasm once more.

“Harder, harder,” You choke, “I’m c-close,”

His fingers bear down a little more, and with a sudden hot rush you fall apart in his hands, body shaking and vibrating with sharp shocks across your spine. Yunho’s fingers lift, and his cock slots back down against your core. Your eyes snap open when you hear Yunho let out a tight moan, and you’re still trembling when you watch Seonghwa toss the bottle of lubricant from your nightstand onto the bed. He’s pressed up against his husband’s back, one arm reaching around to run along his chest and the other hidden out of your view, but from the blown out look on Yunho’s face you know exactly what he’s doing.

Seonghwa sidles close to Yunho’s ear, and at the shift of his arm and Yunho’s sudden pant you imagine he’s pushing a finger, maybe two, inside him. “You look so fucking perfect,” Seonghwa says low in his ear.

“Jesus,” Yunho falters forward a little above you, and Seonghwa sticks to him like glue, “fuck, Hwa,”

“y/n, jagi,” Seonghwa says, and you meet his gaze over Yunho’s shoulder, “give me your hand,”

You reach out, and Seonghwa takes his hand off Yunho’s chest to cup yours, drawing it down between your legs and settling it on Yunho’s aching cock. You wait on baited breath for instruction, your eyes darting between them, and Seonghwa wraps your hand around his cock and starts to draw your hand up and down.

“God,” Yunho’s head drops, his hand fisting into the sheets by your side.

You shift your hips away so that you can properly work his cock, and once you take over the rhythm, Seonghwa lifts his hand away so that he can return his fingers to Yunho’s chest, ghosting over his skin and coming dangerously close to his nipples.

“F-fuck,” He chokes, “you two are going to be the death of me,”

“You love us,” Seonghwa teases him, flicking his nipple sharply.

Yunho’s hips jerk, pushing himself into your fist and you smile up at him. “You want to come, baby?”

“Mm,” He manages, his eyes closing as Seonghwa closes his lips over his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Seonghwa murmurs, and then the tone shifts, his hand pumping his fingers faster and you see the moment that he reaches the right spot inside Yunho.

His mouth drops open, his muscles tensing, “I’m,” he shudders above you, “fuck, I’m,”

“Baby, look at me,” You work your hand faster, ignoring the awkward angle and the burn of your muscles as you pump him harder, “look at me,”

His eyes flash open.

“Come, on me please,” With your free hand you coast it up the length of your body, slipping up from your stomach to your chest, palming your breast, “please, baby, I need it,”

His hand grips your waist and you cover it with yours, holding him to you, your pace over his slick cock never faltering.

“Right there?” Seonghwa murmurs in Yunho’s ear, knowing that he’s hitting the right spot inside him, earning a staggered groan. Seonghwa sighs pleasantly, “Right there, I got you baby,”

He comes suddenly, releasing across your belly and breasts in thick, warm ropes and he shakes his head when your hand slows, “No, no,”

You match your previous pace, pumping him fast and hard and drawing out every ounce of his release until he collapses a little more, pushing your hand away and reaching back to still Seonghwa’s motions. His chest is heaving, pink blush from his chest to his cheeks.

“I love you so much,” Seonghwa murmurs softly, pressing a tender kiss to Yunho’s shoulder and another to his hair.

It takes him a moment, but eventually Yunho’s eyes reopen and he pushes back up to a sitting position, twisting around to catch Seonghwa’s mouth. He murmurs his reply, a hushed, dazed confession of his own. You will never, ever get tired of watching them like this. They both sit back on their heels, Seonghwa wrapping his arms around Yunho and leaning his cheek on his shoulder.

You move quietly, pulling your legs back and gingerly rolling off the side of the bed, but as the weight of the bed changes both their eyes open, searching for you.

“Are you alright?” Seonghwa leans back a bit to see you.

“Mhm,” You nod, “relax I’ll just be a sec,”

You silently slip into the bathroom and take the time to clean yourself up. You take care of things with a damp washcloth, and then catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Your hair is a mess, and your makeup is smudged under your eyes. You clean your face off completely with a wipe, splashing cool water over your still warm cheeks, and brush through hair until it’s smooth again.

When you open the door to the bedroom, they’re still wrapped tightly around each other, sitting relaxed in the center of the bed. You kneel on the mattress and shift towards them, “Let me in,” you murmur as you make it to them.

They draw you in against their chests with ease, cuddling you close and pressing kisses against your skin. Seonghwa nuzzles your cheek and sighs, “Sometimes I think I’m the luckiest man,”

“Same,” Yunho smiles, dipping down to kiss his husband’s cheek.

“I missed this,” You sigh, held between them.

“Mm,” Seonghwa chuckles, palming your hip and squeezing you a little possessively, “What got into you both? I feel like I just hung up the phone,”

Your eyes crack open and you grin at Yunho, “All I did was start to talk about babies and he jumped me,”

“Really?” Seonghwa all but purrs, quirking a brow at Yunho.

Yunho doesn’t answer right away, and then you register a few things at once. Seonghwa is hard against your back, Yunho’s hand on your inner thigh is coming dangerously close to your center again, and your foam angled pillow is resting at the foot of the bed where it wasn’t a few minutes ago. You feel your body start responding again with ease, goosebumps erupting over your flesh and nipples pebbling.

“I think,” Seonghwa brushes his fingers over Yunho’s chest, “he might like the idea of getting you pregnant,”

Yunho’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, his eyes flicking down your naked body.

“Yeah?” You breathe.

“Mhm, but he’ll just have to wait his turn,” Seonghwa pushes Yunho’s hand away from your thighs.

Your head snaps to the side, and Seonghwa kisses you sweetly before pushing you back onto the mattress. Yunho smiles at your confusion and settles down on his side, stretching long next to you.

Seonghwa finishes pulling off his dress shirt and unclasps his belt, and your body starts buzzing once again. When he finally eases back onto the bed he moves between your knees, “He likes the idea,” he says, “but so do I,”

“H-Hwa,” Your voice cracks when he squeezes your thighs hard in his hands.

“We’ve been trying for so long,” He opens your legs, “but I haven’t been honest about what I want,”

Your breath is coming in short staccatoed pants, and your voice is trapped in your throat, unable to even ask what he means or where things are suddenly going. It was supposed to just be another night of maximizing the fact that you’re ovulating and then sitting with your hips up for fifteen minutes to hope gravity might help things move along, but so far that’s not at all where things are headed.

“Tell her,” Yunho prompts when he sees you unable to answer.

“I haven’t had you the way I want in months,” He hooks his hands behind your knees, “I haven’t heard your pretty moans, and I miss the way you beg, darling,”

“Oh, god,” You breathe.

“But most of all,” he tips your legs back with a push of his hands, his gaze intense with heat, “I want to fuck you so full of my cum you can barely keep it inside, I want you to fuck you until you can’t take any more, until you can’t help but get pregnant,”

“W-wait,” You’re shaking under his hands, feeling spread and exposed and raw, “baby, I,”

He stills, his voice still firm but checking in all the same, “Love?”

“I… I don’t,”

Seonghwa shakes his head and interrupts, “y/n,” his voice is softens a little, “I’ve missed you, and I want you, but if this is too much right now or if I’m hurting you, tell me now,”

Another night his words might have caused you stress, might have filled you with feelings of grief or shame, but not tonight. Something deep inside you knows, every tiny sign your body has given you over the last week to tell you that this is it. And where you were so focused on the end result for so long, tonight all you can think about is his cock filling you to the brim.

He holds your gaze, and he waits, but he sighs with relief when you nod, “Take me,”

“That’s our girl,” Yunho kisses your shoulder.

Seonghwa folds you open, your knees back so far they’re touching the mattress and he bites his lip as he looks over your glistening folds, “Darling,” he says, his voice shifting back, “tell me what you want,”

You’re trembling now, the ground you’re on feeling uncertain, unfamiliar, and you look to Yunho.

He smiles at you warmly, cupping your cheek, “Why do you look so shy, baby?”

“I don’t know,” You manage, “this is new,”

He shifts closer, his skin pressing along yours, “Maybe I can help,”

You nod, and he cranes forward to kiss you. He presses your mouth open, tongue flicking along yours, and when you feel a soft press against your clit you whine. Yunho breaks away from our mouth and nods with his forehead against yours, “Our pretty girl wants a baby, but she’s too shy to ask, my love,”

“Is that what she wants?” Seonghwa asks, feigning disbelief with a wry smile on his lips.

“Don’t make her wait,” Yunho says softly.

Seonghwa shifts forwards, and then you feel him, the sudden push of his hard cock stretching you open, dipping so deep inside you in this position that you shudder under him.

“Come on,” Seonghwa sinks fully down so that your hips are pressed together, “beg,”

That voice you know well, and you respond perfectly like a reflex, “Please, sir, please,”

“Please sir, what?” He grinds down and you groan.

“Please sir, get me pregnant,” You finally get the words out, and when you finally do Seonghwa’s hands tighten on your hips.

“Fuck,” He breathes, “again,”

With your eyes locked on his, everything else falls away. Nothing exists now but the feeling of him buried inside you, the desperate wanting in his eyes, and Yunho’s warm hand stretched over your stomach. All of a sudden it all feels like it should. The words come easily now, “Seonghwa,” you reach for him and rest your hand along his cheek, “get me pregnant,”

You see the moment in his eyes he loses all sense of control, the idea of tonight clouding his thoughts so thoroughly that all he can do is focus on fucking you. He drops down over you fully, his head buried in your neck and his lips on your shoulder. He lets the rest of his body drop too, his hands slipping down to the mattress, but the weight of him on top of you and your bent position just pushes you into a deeper press, driving his cock in more and more.

Yunho’s hand is still warmly over your stomach, trapped between you now as Seonghwa’s body pins it down and you feel his fingers flex.

Seonghwa kisses your shoulder, your neck, choking with need and pulsing inside you, “Our baby wants a baby?”

Your muscles clench around his cock in response and he groans.

He rolls his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your wet core and he makes a soft, needy sound against your throat, “Oh you do, don’t you? My perfect girl,”

His hips start up again and you moan, your head dropping to the side fully to let Seonghwa suck on your pulse points. As your eyes flutter open and meet Yunho’s, you realize he’s slid a little closer.

“Our husband,” Yunho says, “is going to give you what you want,” He presses down with his hand over your lower abdomen and you whine at the sensation, “right here, sweetheart,”

“Oh fuck,” You jerk beneath Seonghwa, but in the position you can’t really move.

Seonghwa pumps his hips faster, his hot breath on your ear, “Tell me you want it,”

You’re losing yourself to the sensation now, and you nod, frantic, “I want it,”

“Tell me you need it,” Seonghwa groans.

“I need it,” You whine, “please, god, please,”

“I’ll fuck a baby into you,” Seonghwa bites down on your shoulder, “you’ll take it,”

Hot need and waves of pleasure ripple through you, warm heat flooding up your spine and spreading a blush over your chest and cheeks. All you can think about is how you will, how you have to. With a choked moan you grip down on his shoulders, “Yes, fuck,”

“Fill her up, baby,” Yunho’s voice is low and husky, and you know he’s probably hard and ready all over again.

“Yes, yes,” Seonghwa pants, shifting above you fast and pressing his lips to yours.

You moan into the kiss, now nothing but hot panting between you and Seonghwa’s slick forehead pressing against yours. He’s so close, you can feel it, and so are you - your walls pulsing around him with every hard thrust. You grip down on his shoulders and nod against him, “F-fill me up, Hwa, please come inside me,”

He shudders, groaning and with one hard snap of his hips he thrusts in as deeply as your body will allow a sudden warm rush pooling in your belly. He grinds his hips into you as he comes, his fingers tight on your soft skin, and the sudden sharp spark of pleasure that rushes to your core tips you right over the edge into your own orgasm.

“Oh, god,” You whine, your head falling back as you let it wash over you.

“Perfect,” Yunho sighs next to you, his fingers soft on your scalp, “take it all, sweetheart,”

“Fuck,” Seonghwa pants against your throat, “I can feel you,”

The rolling wave of your release crests and recedes, and as your mind starts to clear all you can feel is their skin on yours and your mind thrums, echoes of their words inside you, the promise of this time leaving you boneless and sated.

Seonghwa’s shaking as he recovers from his own orgasm, still slick with sweat and breathing heavily against you. When he finally pushes up and off you, your body starts to uncurl from its bent position and you hiss at the sudden ache through your hips.

“Hey,” Seonghwa soothes, slowing down his movements immediately so he can find your eyes, “did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “No, no, I’m okay,”

“Yunho,” Seonghwa looks up and smiles when he sees his husband already grabbing the foam pillow from the end of the bed, “perfect,”

Yunho tucks it under your lower back, and with slow movements Seonghwa drops you down on the pillow and comes to your side. Yunho starts to softly massage your aching muscles and looks down at you, “This okay?”

“Mhm,” You sigh, smiling at him.

Seonghwa’s hands drop to your opposite hip and thigh and he starts to work his hands in time with Yunho before he says, “I know the doctor said this is kind of an old wives tale,” referring to the elevation of your hips, “but it can’t hurt,”

“Yeah,” You agree, “and it feels nice,”

“Good,” Seonghwa murmurs, smoothing a hand over your hip, “just relax,”

You almost forgot how much you love the way they care for you after an intense scene or even just a rougher moment in bed. Your sex life with them had changed so much over the past year to be so focused on the mere idea of conception, and your body has been so full of stress and anxiety. Formal scenes or even just passionate sex had fallen by the wayside, and tears bubble up inside you at the realization, a sudden overwhelming emotional current taking you in.

“Baby, what, what’s wrong?” Yunho registers the change in your demeanor easily and cups your cheek.

“Nothing,” You sigh before sniffing back the tears and smiling, “honestly, I just missed you both so fucking much,”

Yunho grins, dropping to your side so he can once again lay lengthwise next to you, and kisses you soundly, “Yeah?”

“Mm,” You murmur against his mouth, “let’s not let ourselves get that lost again, okay?”

Yunho nods, his thumb sweeping over your cheekbone.

Seonghwa’s hand shifts forward over your skin and settles over your belly, softly stroking your skin here as he eases down on your opposite side. Yunho looks down, smiling at the sight before dropping his own hand over Seonghwa’s, their fingers slotting together over your warm belly.

“I’m not pregnant yet,” You joke softly.

“Mm, I don’t care,” Seonghwa sighs hot against your shoulder, his eyes glued to your body, “I can’t stop thinking about it,”

You’re quiet for a moment, breathing slow and relaxed and letting the weight of their hands soak into you. Your hips are starting to lose their little aches now that you’re uncurled, and you nearly drift into sleep. You stay connected loosely to consciousness when you feel Seonghwa kissing your shoulder, curling closer to your body so he can stroke a line up from your stomach to your chest, his fingers deliberately soft and gentle.

“You know,” He murmurs, nipping at your skin, “I think to make sure this time it takes, I might just have to keep you in this bed for a few days,”

“Oh yeah?” Your eyes pop open and you look down at him.

“I think I should keep you nice and full of my cum,” His voice is husky and hungry again already, “and keep you right here until we’re sure,”

“Fuck,” You curse softly.

Yunho’s hand tightens over your belly and you look to him, his lips parted and his cock standing hard again, the tip already red and leaking beads of precum.

“Will you do that for us, darling?” Seonghwa shifts, kissing up the smooth column of your throat, “Will you be good and take my cum until you can’t take any more?”

“My god, yes,” You whine, your body coming alive again.

Yunho’s hips jerk on the bed beside you, his cock connecting with your thigh and he groans, wrapping a hand around his shaft to get a little relief.

“Hwa,” You cup his cheek, bringing his face up to yours, “I’ll do whatever you want, you can have me anyway you want, but look,”

Hwa’s eyes flick past your shoulder and catches sight of Yunho working his aching cock.

“Yunho’s been so patient,” You murmur, “let’s help him come,”

“So generous,” Seonghwa teases you, kissing you firmly before shifting over you and running his hand along Yunho’s chest.

“Mm, no, it’s okay,” Yunho sighs, “keep taking care of her, I’m good,”

“Baby,” Seonghwa shakes his head, “stop, just tell me where you want to come,”

He hesitates, but only for a moment before he says, “Your mouth,”

Seonghwa grins, his hands leaving you as he starts to reposition on the bed.

You slide back a little to give them room, but Yunho’s hand closes around your wrist to stop you. “Where are you going?” He smiles.

“You want Hwa,”

“When have I ever not wanted you too, pretty girl?” He squeezes his hand, tugging you a little closer by your wrist but not hard enough to hurt.

“Where do you want me?”

“Right here,” Yunho smiles as he pulls you forward again, tapping his chin with his free hand, “I want to taste you both,”

Your stomach flips at his words and you let him draw you forward, settling your body over him and bracing his hands on your hips. You brush his hair away from his forehead, carding your fingers through his dark curls and smile down at him, “Is this what you want?”

His hands shift to your ass and he pulls you down a little further, “Get down here already,”

You fall forward a little and brace yourself on the mattress above him, “Baby!”

“I’m not going to ask nicely again,” His teeth gently drag along your inner thigh and his fingers flex hard when he feels you jump in response.

“God, you’re bossy today,” You tease him, but you love every second of it, so you drop a little lower and sigh when you feel his tongue part your folds.

“Yunho?” Seonghwa’s voice comes from your side.

“Hmm?” Yunho hums as he starts to gently roll his tongue over your clit, his eyes closed as he focuses on your pleasure.

“Can I take care of you?”

Yunho nods, and you feel his body shift around under you, relaxing with his legs open so Seonghwa can easily slot between them. You know the moment Seonghwa stops teasing Yunho and sinks his mouth down over his cock, Yunho grips you hard with his fingers and moans into your heat, his tongue stalling out as he lives inside his own pleasure for a few moments more.

“Yunho,” You whine, rocking your hips just a little.

His eyes flash open up at you and you can tell his smiling from the way his eyes crinkle up, “Needy,”

“Mhm,” You sink your hand into his hair, rolling your hips again.

Yunho’s voice catches and you hear the wet sound of Seongha’s mouth behind you, but Yunho holds his attention on you, “Stay still,”

“Make me,”

His eyes harden, and he doesn’t hesitate to push you up away from his face so he can better address his husband, “Hwa, a little help?”

You hear Seonghwa take a sharp inhale and he lightly clears his throat, “What do you need?”

Yunho smiles, and then reaches around you, trapping your hands together and wrenching you backwards a bit so that you have to arch your back to keep the position comfortable, “Do something with her, she’s being a brat,”

Your eyes nearly roll back in your head and Seonghwa laughs. You hear him shuffle around you behind you for a moment, and then fabric closes around your wrists to bind them together. He taps your arm to prompt you, and Yunho’s hands leave you as you pull on the cloth restraint, testing its tightness so that Seonghwa can see your mobility and ensure the binds aren’t too tight.

“You want a lesson, baby?” Seonghwa laughs again, his edge back again now that he knows what Yunho and you both want.

“Yes, sir,” You nod frantically.

Yunho’s hands return to your hips, settling you over his mouth again, and without hesitation Seonghwa tugs softly on the fabric lead that controls your wrists and your stability over Yunho. Seonghwa settles down between Yunho’s legs again, gently pulling on the lead again so that you have to arch further, your arms stretching out behind you a little painfully. He hums, content when he says, “Everytime you move, I’ll pull. If you stop counting for Yunho, I’ll pull. If you don’t beg when we ask, I’ll pull. Hell,” He tugs gently again and you hiss at the sensation, “if I feel like it, I’ll pull.”

“Yes, sir,” You pant.

“Good,” He says, and Yunho groans into your thigh so you know Seonghwa must be teasing him too, “now be a good slut and come on his face,”

“Ah, fuck,” You choke, Yunho’s mouth attaching to your clit again as he sucks hard, almost painfully so.

“Color,” Seonghwa says, his voice crisp and clean.

“Green, sir,” You confirm with a nod, and you interlace your fingers to ground yourself a little.

“Good girl,”

You hear the wet sound of Seonghwa’s mouth on Yunho’s prone cock again, feel the vibration from him groaning between your thighs, and you fight the urge to work your hips fast against him. Painful pleasure shoots up your spine as Yunho devours you, no longer tender but all his attention aimed on making you fall apart fast and hard.

You almost forget that you’re supposed to count and what that means for you, so when Yunho’s hand cracks down over your ass cheek you sputter and jerk. Seonghwa tugs the lead and you remember yourself, “One!”

The lead stays steady.

Yunho drags his tongue through your folds, pressing it up inside you and you shudder knowing he’s tasting his husband’s release, making a mess of himself between your legs.

His hand descends again and you stay still this time, “Two,”

Once more. “Three!”

The sting from the next three spanks has tears gathering in your eyes but you manage to stay put and count perfectly on each. When Yunho’s opposite hand shifts up from your thigh to your waist to hold you steady, you know everything’s about to get much more intense. You’re completely unprepared for the sting this time, it’s been so long since your last session like this, and the sound that breaks out of your lips is raw. You jerk your hips and Yunho sucks your clit again harshly, the bubble of sharp, hot pleasure running up your chest.

You move, and you forget to count, and Seonghwa tugs, wrapping the lead around his hand to shorten it. You rock backwards, and Yunho’s broad hand on your waist steadies you just enough so that you can regain your bearings, but now the position is stretched and taut. Your arms are stretched long behind you, your back arching to accommodate the position, and your thighs start to burn from the effort of holding you steady.

“Six!” You choke out, but you realize your mistake fast. Seonghwa tugs again and you whine, “Please, please, I’m sorry, seven!”

The lead relaxes the exact amount he had just taken up and you almost sob in relief.

Seonghwa says nothing, normally he would be goading you or verbally directing you, they both would. This time they keep quiet and let you figure things out for yourself, Seonghwa’s mouth too busy working over Yunho’s cock. You make it to ten spanks before they give you any more relief, and you suspect it’s because Yunho himself is close to coming.

Seonghwa chokes behind you, Yunho twitches beneath you, and with one shuddering moan you know he’s spilling himself down Seonghwa’s throat. His mouth only stills for a moment, but the moment his head clears he redoubles his efforts and he pulls your hips closer, burying his face into your wet cunt with fervor, your clit rocking steadily over his nose as he fucks you with his tongue.

Seonghwa drops the lead, and the change in balance has you falter for just a moment, but Seonghwa’s hand connects between your shoulder blades and he keeps you steady.

“Can’t you come?” His voice is hoarse.

“I’m close,” You pant, still fighting the urge to participate like they know you want.

Seonghwa settles behind you, reaching around to tweak a nipple between his fingers, “Then show us,”

You whine softly, your head dropping back onto his shoulder, your orgasm rushing towards you but still just out of reach.

Yunho shifts his hands, one splaying wide over your abdomen and the other gripping your hip. Seonghwa’s voice is low when he breathes against your ear, “Show us what a good slut you are, fuck his face,”

You crumble, his words all the permission you need and you blink your eyes open and look down to Yunho. With an experimental roll you find exactly where everything feels best and then sink into your rhythm. Yunho moans into you, pressing up with his tongue and guiding your hips with his hand.

“Does that feel good, jagiya?” Seonghwa nips at your ear.

“I’m,” You shudder, “I need to come,”

“No one’s stopping you,” Seonghwa squeezes you.

You’re tired, exhausted from the tough position that they held you in, your thighs shaking as you hold yourself up and keep moving, but you need it now, so close on the razorwire of pleasure that you know you can’t stop. Blush heats your cheeks, tears bubble up, and the knot of release inside you tightens further still.

“Please, please,” You beg, and their hands grip you harder.

Yunho repositions his mouth, adding the rough pad of his tongue to the sensations you’re riding and it all comes apart. You moan and squirm, body twitching and rolling as you unravel into your release, and Seonghwa’s murmuring praises in your ear but all you can barely make sense of the words. Yunho’s tongue flicking across your clit shifts suddenly from pleasurable to painfully overstimulated and you jerk your hips back, leaning further into Seonghwa’s embrace.

“Shh, shh,” He soothes you, tugging smoothly at the binds around your wrists so that you can release your arms, “settle down, baby, we got you,”

You’re breathing heavily, shaky and weary, and with slow movements, Seonghwa lifts you off of Yunho and eases you down onto the bed. You’re suddenly warm, wrapped up between them and covered in blankets and Yunho’s fingertips on your jaw ease your eyes open.

“Sweetheart,” He murmurs, “talk to us a minute,”

“I’m good,” You sigh, a lazy, satisfied smile on your lips as you snuggle into them, “tired,”

“You know you’re our beautiful girl, right?” Seonghwa spoons you, nuzzling into your shoulder and kissing your skin softly, “You know we love you?”

Anytime they touch you like that, talk to you like that, or control you like that, it always ends this way. Seonghwa’s soft and kind assurances that despite the names or the degrees of punishment, you’re theirs and you’re loved. No matter how many times you play this way, they never let you forget that.

“Mhm,” You nod sleepily, “I love you too,”

“Are you hurting at all?” Yunho checks as you drop your forehead to his chest and let your eyes drift closed again.

“Mm-mm,” You shake your head.

“Should we let you sleep, pretty girl?” Seonghwa chuckles.

All you can do is nod. You fall asleep to soft kisses, gentle stroking touches, and warm arms around you. You fall asleep more sated than you’ve been in months, and they drop into sleep right behind you. You sink into each other in the center of the wide mattress and you rest.

In the morning you wake up tangled together, a mass of limbs and sleepy sighs. Seonghwa has clearly been awake a little longer than you, and he massages your skin, peppering kisses over your shoulders and back. Yunho snores softly and adjusts next to you.

Seonghwa shifts behind you, slipping his hand between you and Yunho, and he kisses the hollow of your ear softly.

“One more time,�� He says, his voice low as he rolls you towards him, “please,”

You nod, leaving your body pliant, letting him move you where he wants you. With ease he pushes you onto your side, and he slides behind your back between you and Yunho. He pushes up your leg to open up to him and you arch your back to position yourself a little better to take him again.

His fingers slip through your folds, testing your wetness and finding you need a little stimulation before he can take you the way he wants. He wets two fingers in his mouth and then slides them over your clit, still a little swollen and sensitive from the night before. With slow, gentle circles he gets your body responding.

“There we go,” He murmurs, “you want me too, don’t you?”

He sounds hoarse and a little desperate and you nod again, your fingers gripping down on the sheets as a rolling rush of pleasure echoes up your body. He wets his fingers again, rocking them over your clit and dipping them inside again and again until you’re trembling and dripping for him, and then he repositions. In one smooth stroke he thrusts inside, and then he stills, gathering you close to his chest with a shaky sigh, his hand slipping over your stomach once more.

“Hwa,” You murmur, your voice incredibly small.

“Right here,” He murmurs, caressing your skin and kissing your temple, “god, you’ll be so beautiful for me, jagiya,”

The purpose of the night comes back to you in a rush. You sigh and groan softly, “All for you.” You push your hips back into his.

He thrusts slowly this time, taking his time with you and savoring the pulsing wet feeling around him, “I’ll come right here,”

You moan softly under him.

“I’ll make you ours forever,” He pants, his hips moving a little faster.

“Hwa,” You sigh, “please, please get me pregnant,”

His breath catches, and his hand slides lower to cup your abdomen, “You could be already,”

His words make your muscles twitch and clench around him and he sighs against your skin. You push back with your hips again, “Let’s make sure, don’t stop,”

He shakes his head against yours, holding you to him as he thrusts, his fingers tightening when he gets closer and closer.

“Please,” You murmur softly, “Don’t stop,”

He spills himself inside you with a quiet moan, holding himself still and deep as he comes down from his hard release, and without saying a word he slips his hand between your legs to gently work you up to your own orgasm. He stays inside you all the while despite his softening cock, not wanting to risk losing a single drop, and it takes time before he feels comfortable enough to pull out.

The bed shifts behind you both, and gentle hands tuck you both in. You listen to the sound of your other husband making breakfast in the kitchen. Something feels like it’s shifted, both new and familiar. With your eyes closed you listen. Seonghwa’s steady breath, the clicking of dishes, the movement of the city outside on a bright spring morning.

Soft music starts to play from the other room. Yunho hasn’t started his day with music in a long time, and you used to love waking up to the sound and his easy energy as he drew you both out of bed and into your mornings. You forgot it, easily eaten away by stress and worry and doubt. You let yourself listen a little longer, quietly willing this time to be the time, and though you’ve made the same silent plea before, this time everything feels different, feels possible.

A month later, the news brings you all to tears - elation mixing with new anxieties tangled up with joy and relief, such easy and sudden relief. You’ll need a bigger apartment, another room or maybe two. The shopping list you never let yourself make before comes easily now, and the hopes that you all kept quiet from each other spill out in a dizzy, excited rush. It’s not so hard to look forward now, so together, always together, you do. 💌 taglist - @x0cherrytattoo0x @just-here-to-read-01 @simeonswhore @rielleluvs @ourbabies-bts @mingkiyoo @belletiny @moonseonghwa @jwying @treasure-jackpot @thirstiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @seonghwaxtoothless @matzstars @lenireads @parkthothwa8 @halotopicecream @s10an @8tinytings @kiwibaekie @sunasleftball @tannie13 @camilacastro @phoenix-karma @atinymonbebestay @kpopslittles1ut @lucentchan @seobtak @billboard-singer @jlm92 @side-angel @createyour0wnworld @mywooyo @halesandy @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @sophxom @lydiairl @seokjins-condoms @yoongimingyuchan @y2keigo @kpoplover718 @heart-coiored @blckbianxious @oippang @atinytease @minkysmilk @becauseiloveyunho @asjkdk @stranger-thighs @kpoplover-19 @annaflwrs @nina-at-any-time @bloomingsann @rielleluvs @jjongguromi @asjkdk @nabis-dreamscape-world @twancingyunhao @riot-hellion @pyxieyxie @namsloverr @mixling-blog @kodzukein @hyukssunflower @yousaybieberisaybiersack @ateezreactionsandscenarios @plutoneu @17caratcakes @idjitscentral @daekcottoncos @sohnkiss @narrylilomylove @lilramennoodle @noonaishere @savluvschan @mingi-banana @miransfw @ayoo-bangtan @eve217 @blglmgk01 @miriamxsworld @kirooz

#yunho #seonghwa #yunhwa #yunhwa husbands #yunho x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunhwa x reader #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez series #yunho smut #yunho fic #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fic #honeyhotteoks fics #ateez

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jasntodds · 1 year

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Lost In The Bitterness | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds : I was wondering if you could write a fic where reader kind of works for the titans helping with their medical stuff as she has her EMT certificate or something similar, and one late night she patches up Jason/red hood or Robin, who’ve had a crush on each other secretly but are also sort of enemies? And then when she patches a fairly hurt Jason like the feelings come out and they kiss and confess and such.

Summary: Patching up Jason Todd, Red Hood, at two in the morning on a Tuesday night was not exactly on your agenda. Especially given the history between the two of you.

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, enemies to lovers, mentions of previous homelessness, bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 3,323

A/n: Photo credit goes to the amazing @just-lost-inbetween-worlds !! Hello, I love injury tropes, especially this one lmao If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

You and Jason were friends previously, before Red Hood, before he died, before Robin. Jason and you were two street kids, just trying to make it to the next day. You'd met at one of the shelters, clicked almost instantly. Even then he was charming and funny, hot-headed as hell. A true menace to society. He got you into so much trouble and you lived for it. It was fun and he was your best friend. You were his. But he decided to try and rob the Batmobile and Bruce Wayne picked him. You haven't been friends since. Unfortunately, for you though, the Titans and Red Hood have managed to patch things up between them and Red Hood is in San Francisco helping with a case.

When you decided to get your EMT certification, you didn't think you'd be using it to work with the Titans. You got it so you could help people, sure, but you thought you'd be helping people who did not always put themselves, intentionally, in the line of fire. But, life is funny that way. It rarely ever goes the way you think will. And now you're here, working for the Titans because of one really random and chance encounter with an injured Nightwing a few years ago. You helped him and the rest, should have been history. But, your life can't possibly be that simple because then you found out the one and only Jason Todd was actually Red Hood.

"Did you wanna tell me what happened?" Your voice holds a harshness to it that makes Jason groan as you get your supplies ready to patch him up.

"Like you fucking care." Jason quips back, stripping his top half of the suit.

"That's true. I do not fucking care. This is a favor to Dick." Your words are harsh and it hurts.

Jason isn't sure exactly what he did to you to make you hate him so much. Jason isn't oblivious and he's far from stupid. It's not a coincidence that your friendship ended the day he went to live with Bruce. But, he can't figure out why you're so mad about that. Why you don't want him to be taken care of? It didn't pan out exactly how he thought it would with Bruce with the whole Batman and Robin thing, then the dying thing. But, it was good and safe for a while and he was happy being Robin and with Bruce. He doesn't understand why you would hate him for that. So, he's mad at you because you're mad at him. And hearing this is a favor to Dick, now that stings like a hundred hornets.

"Don't fucking help then. Give me the shit and I'll do it my-damn-self. I don't need you." Jason snarls, sticking out his hand for you to hand him whatever you're willing and for a second, you think about it.

Being around him is just difficult and it hurts. All you two do is fight which is partially because you start it a good portion of the time. But, he keeps it going and he hits low blows. Tonight, you're taking the first strike, before he even has a chance. And you think about letting him patch himself up because he's done it before and it would be easier for you. You wouldn't have to be around him and technically, that's still fulfilling the favor to Dick. You made sure Jason didn't die...again. But, you signed an oath and you don't hate him that much. Hate might even be the wrong word.

"No, I'll do it." You mutter, grabbing a pack of gauze pads, knowing you'll be needing to clean something.

"I'm not some dirty fucking favor to anyone." Jason grumbles and his words are hot, boiling in the air.

"You're so insufferable." You groan, tossing your head back in frustration. "Just shut the fuck up and let me help you so you can leave." You turn around and now you're getting a look at the damage.

The anger and annoyance you just had vanished in an instant. His abdomen is bloody, what looks to be a large gash is near his right rib cage. There's a spot below it that looks like a bullet grazed the spot. Shades of purples, blues, and maroons litter the rest of his abdomen. There are a few scars across his chest, on his arms, one up near his neck and you wonder how the hell that even happened. His armor is supposed to protect him. And it stings looking at him like this.

"I'm fucking fine." Jason spits, his eyes narrowed at you and he sees the worry start to stretch across your face. "Don't suddenly act like you give a shit now. I'm bleeding out, you wanna do something or let me do it?"

You suck in a deep breath and move forward. He knows exactly which buttons to press and just how to press them. And yet, you find yourself, not growing mad at the interaction. You've never seen him like this. You've seen him with plenty of bruises and cuts. Jason being a hothead, he's been in his fair share of fistfights but nothing like this. This is different, it's more dangerous. He's putting himself in the line of bullets and knives and fists on purpose. The thought of him dying, again, crosses your mind and you feel your heart skip and then thunder as if it's going to burst right out from your chest.

You weren’t friends when he died but you remember seeing it on the news. Jason Todd had been killed. And you remember how it hurt anyway. Your breath had been sucked from your lungs and every piece of you regretted ever being mad at him in the first place. But, then he came back to life as Red Hood and you fight with him anyway because maybe a part of you thought he was indestructible after dying. He seemed that way and believing that lie you told yourself was easier than facing him. Clearly, you’re very wrong.

"Just stay still." You drop the venom in your voice, kneeling down so you can see the wound.

Jason holds your phone's flashlight in your direction so you can see better. It's not a super deep wound luckily and he doesn't seem to be in too much pain meaning it likely didn't hit anything important. So, you get to work cleaning the wound with water, holding a rag under it to catch the falling water.

"What the hell happened?" You ask, glancing up at him and Jason's eyes are boring into you.

Dick called and gave you the heads up you'd need to help Jason. Jason is staying at the tower but you both have been actively avoiding each other. So, Dick calling you to give you the heads up for your own sake, to prepare yourself for the encounter. And you figured it would be bad for Dick even ask. You always patch them up, even when they can do it themselves. But you didn't think you'd be dealing with Jason. Dick knows you never want to. But, of course you do it anyway. And now you're stuck worried about him.

"A few lucky shots, I guess." Jason looks away from you, not wanting to give you any detail. You already said you don't care, he's not gonna waste his breath.

"Yeah, okay." You roll your eyes. "Former Robin, current Red Hood, just people getting lucky shots in. Sure."

"You don't fucking care." Jason's voice almost cracks with his words. "Just do whatever the hell you need to and I'll leave, alright?"

Hate is not the word for Jason. It was never the right word. Because he's mad at you for being mad at him. When you were kids, there were always those bubbling feelings in the pit of his stomach. He always brushed them away because who has time for that when you're just trying to survive? And the feelings went away because you weren't around anymore. But, then he saw you again and they flooded right back. Even with you being mad at him. There is still something stirring in his stomach when he's around you. Hate isn't the right word.

You let out a sigh. "I'm just mad." You shake your head, swapping the water out for a gauze pad to dry some of the water so you can start stitching it.

It's not the right word for you either. He left you and that hurt a lot. But, it also hurt because you did really like him. Jason Todd has always been charming and charismatic, funny. He's always had a way to get you to laugh or smile either with something that was actually funny or some type of innuendo that also made you cringe. He's always been very good at it and there was a reason he was your best friend. It was never out of a convenience or necessity. There is always something a little bit more to it. And then he left and it hurt a lot. Being mad at him for it was a lot easier than facing any other type of feeling you had toward him.

He knows you're mad. That's kind of the whole issue. Maybe a part of him doesn't want to know. He thinks maybe you'll tell him it's him. There's something he specifically did. He's done it to everyone else, done something to piss them off and make them hate him. The Titans hated him for long enough, Bruce wasn't thrilled with him. Bruce still isn't happy with him given their opposing morals. Everyone gives up on him eventually and he doesn't want to hear that. Not tonight.

Not from you.

You get up and grab the needle and thread, threading the needle before moving back to your spot. Jason is still watching you intently and it makes you feel a little uneasy. You're not really sure why he's watching you so carefully. He has a thing about him that always makes you squirm, he's always been good at it. And maybe you're a little tired of being mad at him. Especially right now because he's injured.

"You left." Your voice is so small, Jason barely hears you.

"You're mad because I left?" Jason questions, his brows pulling together.

"Mhm." You hum. "Stay still. It'll probably hurt." You state before you start the stitching with no warning and Jason flitches. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Jason says through gritted teeth.

You start adding several stitches up the wound. "You went to live with Bruce and you left me alone."

It's not that he left you alone on purpose. He didn't have a choice. He went with Bruce, to a home, or go to juvie again. The choice was pretty easy and simple. He also did go looking for you but you conveniently, forget that part of the story.

"I looked for you. You fucking avoided me. I checked all of our spots and you were never fucking there. What the hell did you expect me to do?" Jason questions and it’s so frustrating. And you can hear the hurt in his voice which makes you feel worse for being mad in the first place.

"I don't know." You groan back, pausing your stitching. "But it hurt, okay? You left me alone and it hurt. And I'm mad because you were my best friend and you got to be safe. I got the shit end of the stick." You shake your head and that’s first time you’re saying it out loud, realizing how horrible it sounds. “It’s...it’s not your fault. It just sucked.”

That's not his fault. It's not his fault you weren’t caught by Bruce. It was a chance encounter. A fluke. Jason was just ballsy to try and steal from Batman. That's all it was. It's not his fault but he feels bad about it anyway because he doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't think he ever deserved the kindness that Bruce offered that day or deserved the chance to be Robin. Look at what he's become, Jason doesn't think he deserves it.

"I'm sorry." Jason states, his voice broken. "You should have gotten better, alright? You should have."

You shake your head and you know this whole thing is dumb and selfish. "No," You shrug your shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Jay. I’m sorry for being mad. You deserved better and it was selfish of me to be mad. I was mad at the world and I took it out on you because it was easier, I guess. I’m really sorry.” You wish you could take it all back. Every single part of it. It’s not fair to him and you know he always deserved the best.

Jason is someone who doesn’t hold many grudges. He can let stuff go and it’s pretty simple. Apologize and he can move past it. And he always had a hard time staying mad at you for anything.

“I was only mad at you because you were mad at me.” Jason lets out a soft chuckle.

A faint smile pulls at your lips. “That’s a very you thing to do.” You lets out a soft laugh.

You continue to patch Jason up as the silence of the room consumes the two of you. You meant a lot to him. Jason's always been a rebel with a cause, causing trouble for the fun of it. Just trying to survive and you got that. You always did and you helped him get in and out of trouble more times than he count. You were his best friend and he's missed you, even if he doesn't show it and he's been mean to you. He's missed you and he hates being mad at you. Jason doesn't hold very many grudges.

And in this moment, you're finding it hard to hold onto the grudge. He's riddled with scars and he's actively doing what no one else is willing to do. Baring the weight so other people don't have to. He never meant to hurt you and you know he didn't. You wonder if anyone has ever helped him, after Robin. Probably not. Jason doesn't let many people in to begin with and you find yourself feeling sad for him. He didn’t deserve any of the bad things that have happened to him. And all of those feelings you had for him, bubble back up to the surface.

"I did miss you, for the record." You state, letting out a breath.

Jason's abdomen flexes as a chuckle falls from his lips. "Bull fucking shit."

"I did." You defend. "You were my best friend, of course, I missed you."

"Sure as shit never acted like it." Jason spits but there’s almost an airy sarcasm to his words.

"Because of the anger I had covered it up." You glance up at him as you finish placing some gauze on one of the cuts.

"You gonna stay mad at me forever?" Jason offers you the smirk that used to get you into trouble and he’s so tired of being mad at you. It’s pointless. It never got either of you anywhere.

"No." You flash him a gentle smile.

"Good, holding grudges doesn't look good on you." Jason quips, a cheeky smirk on his lips.

You roll your eyes, getting to your feet. "Oh, and now you know what looks good on me?"

"I've got some ideas."

"Right." You nod your head. "Be careful next time." You look him up and down and you can feel your stomach turn with nerves as you watch the smirk turn into something cocky.

"So now you care, huh?"

"Just don't want you to die again." You state.

"Yeah." Jason scoffs, looking down to his lap.

"Mad doesn't mean I actually didn't care."

"Sorry for everything anyway."

"It's alright, I forgive you." Your eyes widen at him as a smile pulls at your lips. "Always had a hard time staying mad you, especially when you manage to apologize."

"Yeah?" Jason gets a sinister glint in his eyes. "And why's that?" A part of him is messing with you, just like he used to when you were kids. The other part though, is curious if your reasoning is the same as his.

Your eyes narrow slightly. "Because..." You shrug and decide you have nothing to lose at this point. You’re not kids on the streets anymore. And you’re done holding onto bitterness and grudges. There’s no harm in telling him now. "Had a little hit of a thing for you then."

Jason's heart thunders with your words and he can feel heat rush to his cheeks. "Not now though?" He tries to brush it off, admitting the same thing. "Had a thing for you, too.... back then."

"Not now though?" You repeat his words and Jason has a cheeky grin as his eyes look to the ceiling and back to you. Jason shrugs right back. "Oh, well, too bad.” Sarcasm drips from your words. “Could've seen where it would go now but if—"

Jason grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. Your hands catch yourself on his shoulders, your eyes wide. And you feel your heart jump to your throat.

"You saying you still do?" Jason asks, his eyes hopeful and you always liked the color of his eyes.

"Is that going to be an issue?"

Jason can't help the genuine smile that comes to his face. He always felt the most comfortable with you, even when you were being mean to him. "Nope, not an issue." Jason's voice drops as he eyes your lips.

"Yeah, still have a thing for you now." You dip your head lower, resting your forehead against his.

"So, do something about it." His voice is low but taunting and you take him up on it, bringing his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft at first but then Jason's grip tightens on your thighs, pulling you closer and your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his mouth harsher against yours. The kiss turns hungry and desperate, his hands sliding up to your ass and then your hips. His mind pays no attention to the pain of the injuries from tonight and he focused solely on you. He's always wanted to be with you, since those days on the streets. It's complicated now, too but not like that.

You pull away first. Your breathing is quickened and an uncontrollable smile pulls at the corners of your lips. "Didn't know you felt that way, Jay." And truly, you never did. The jokes always seemed like jokes but the idea of him and you makes your heart nearly burst.

"Yeah," Jason chuckles softly. And he never thought you liked him, not like that. You always liked to mess with him and played the same jokes. He thought that’s all it ever was. Why wouldn’t it be? But, that never stopped him from wanting something more with you. So, now with confirmation, he takes his shot at it. "You wanna try this out? See where it goes?"

You nod your head, lowering your voice to just above a whisper. "Yeah, I'd like that." You close the distance again, kissing him deeply.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover

#jason todd x reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #titans #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #red hood x reader #requests

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philtstone · 4 months

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title: we close our eyes and dream (the world has turned around again)

in the year of our lord 2024 i wrote psych fic ... wow there was this hilarious list of reverse prompts floating around tumblr a little while ago and one of them, instead of high school au, was "nursing home au". something somewhere fundamental in my brain clicked and i thought "this would be perfect for shules. i just know it" and then after many years of being generally too terrified to try my hand at the very unique narrative flavour that is psych, i wrote this. title is from "we close our eyes" by the oingo boingos which plays over the final scene of the series finale and always makes me cry. i hope u enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

Juliet is sitting alone by the couches when she meets him.

They’re in the dining hall at Glorious Pines, and she’s chewing her lip and staring impotently at her fancy-looking plate of risotto. She hates that risotto is making her feel so weird and insecure. Dinner with Sarah was usually a lot simpler than this; Juliet has never really been a good cook, and her granddaughter was often too busy with work to manage anything more than a mis-mash of premade Trader Joe’s delicacies. Now she’s in this big beautiful building, surrounded by vibrant and dynamic old people who’ve been living here long enough to all know each other and have interesting hobbies and be in on the latest gossip. Juliet’s always loved making new friends, but the risotto is reminding her how out of practice she really is. Up until four days ago she had been taking her meals with Sarah, who’d moved Juliet to Santa Barbara in May so she wouldn’t be all alone in that old house of theirs. And before that – well, she’d been alone. Her hobbies have gotten progressively more old ladyish over the last five years, and while it’s true that she sewed her own pajamas while in her twenties, too, that wasn’t all she spent her time doing. She’s pretty sure her glamorous neighbors by the lemonade bowl who still have the guts to wear red lipstick won’t be too interested in her recent return – for nostalgia purposes only , and not because she likes solving the mysteries before the book does – to her ancient childhood box of Nancy Drew novels. And, gosh, the last time a man flirted with her was … oh, twenty years ago, now.

She’s pushing the sticky, fragrant rice around and trying not to think too hard about the prospect of socializing with strangers when he materializes into the armchair beside her.

The sudden and graceful materializing is on its own impressive, considering most of the residents of this place have had hip replacements.

“Oh – hello,” Juliet says, mostly just to be polite

“Hi!” says the man. “You’re in my seat.”

Juliet freezes with one spoonful of risotto finally halfway up to her mouth. She narrows her eyes at him from behind her bifocals. “Excuse me?”

“My seat,” he explains. “I was sitting right there. I had, in fact, just gotten up to go grab Gus some orange juice – you know Gus –” Juliet doesn’t “-- And now I am back, and, so, as you can see, that was my seat.”

Juliet blinks. He’s around her own age, early seventies, with a full head of thick grey hair, bright hazel eyes that crease liberally at the corners, no glasses, and a big nose that probably gave him a striking profile in his youth. He’s wearing a garish red polo shirt that says FASHION! on the front in block letters, and house slippers.

READ MORE ON AO3

#my writing #psych #juliet o'hara #shawn spencer #burton guster #shawn x juliet #shules #shawn x gus #a given really but definitely platonic #carlton lassiter #karen vick #plus miscellanious cameos!#i wrote a whole murder mystery for this and everything!#if this doesnt get notes i will probably cry lol jk but for real

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headfullof-ideas · 2 months

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Mindlessly scrolling through all my WIP’s to see all the ones I’ve somewhat forgotten about/which one I want to work on/procrastinating on the project I’m actually working on, and being faced with all the different flavors of Ant angst I’ve come up with, including, and maybe not limited to because I’m sure there’s some I’ve forgotten, or some I just haven’t come up with yet…

- What Happens Deep in Durae, aka my Vareekla!Ant series where he shapeshifts into an original creature of mine in an original world, and deals with all the body horror, existential crisis’, anxiety, and paranoia that comes with it

- Biological but Adopted!Ant, where Ant gets separated from his family at an early age, lives on the streets, gets ‘adopted’ by his family, and struggles with all the trauma from the streets, and adjusting to a wildly new lifestyle with people he doesn’t even know

- The Subnautica crossover I’ve spent two years working on, on and off, where Ant gets stranded on 4546b, and spends four years trying to survive on his own before he finally reunites with his family again

- Camp Cretaceous crossover where Ant and/or Fontaine go to Camp Cretaceous and deal with all of that, but it’s immediately after dealing with the Monumentials, and going to the camp was meant to be a de-stressing trip, where he and/or Fontaine just get the chance to be kids without worry, only now Ant’s trying to keep all these other kids who’ve never nearly died alive

- A Oneshot called Deep Down that I’ve also been working on, on and off, for a few years now, where Ant thinks about his feelings on the Scepter, how it’s changing him, and how scared and anxious he is about it all

- Another Oneshot that I haven’t touched in three years from Hammerheads point of view, where Ant gets hurt via maybe harpoon by a gang of morally worse pirates while in the Mimic Knight, and is forced to take shelter on the Dark Orca

- One called Runaway!Ant, because he’s on the run after being framed for bringing back these Lemurian assassin monsters that have gone out of control and are rampaging across the earth. He’s been framed for it by Proteus and some other Guardian jerk, who actually woke up the monsters to try and use against Ant after he wouldn’t team up with Proteus and wouldn’t deal with the Monumentials the way the Guardian dude tried to threaten him into doing. Super long explanation short, Ant is forced to run away to protect his family, but after he’s publicly blamed for the now worldwide threat the creatures are, with no way of defending himself against the accusations, he’s not even sure his family wants anything to do with him, or if they believe he really didn’t bring the monsters back

- Another one named Ant Clone Angst in my notes, but the big angst is that Antaeus Nekton died (and not painlessly either), and a handful of months later a kid in a secret lab who looks just like him, with half of his memories, is found by the World Oceans Authorities. But no one, not even the kid himself, knows if he’s just a clone made from Antaeus Nektons missing body, or Ant himself reincarnated. So Ant is having an existential crisis trying to figure out if he can even trust his own memories, not knowing if they’re his or not, and due to the (semi-reasonable, due to watching a kid who looks and acts and sounds like their dead child walking around and breathing) not-so-great reactions to his arrival and existence from the Nektons, Ant doesn’t think the people his memories tell him are his loving family even want anything to do with him. He also remembers dying

- The HTTYD crossover I’ve built but also tweaked, where Ant takes Hiccups place plot wise (I love Hiccup, but he doesn’t exist here) but at the end of the movie, him and the other riders (Snotlout, Fishlegs, the twins, and an OC I’ve only introduced on my Ao3 account) don’t go back to Berk and are living in exile, where they proceed to speedrun the entirety of RoB, DoB, RTTE, and then some over the next few years. Ant deals with racism, not thinking his family he’s never met (due to separation at birth trope) wants him, semi-mutism under pressure, horrific loss of left leg, touch starvation and slight aversion, and having half the Archipelago and then some after his and these other kids heads. World building wise, this story has been so much fun, but boy do I put Ant through the ringer in it (this is the one I’m currently working on)

- Aaand the one with the Winter Soldier that started as a crack conversation with my brother that got way too out of hand. Ant is (somewhat) like the Winter Soldier from marvel (ala sleeper agent activation code and assassin) but gets rescued (whacked upside the head) and is now struggling to live on the Aronnax and stop being a murderous little bean

- Ant is raised by the Guardians, but not like the one I’ve seen floating around on Ao3. Ant gets kidnapped almost immediately after he’s born to be raised by the Guardians, where Alpheus already is due to his dad and history with Guardians in Canon. But because the Guardians believe that Alpheus is the Chosen One, Ant is only there as a ‘backup’ in case things go south, being raised as a future Guardian. Ant is miserable, and manages to track down his biological family once he realizes he was taken and not given up like Alpheus was. Ant skips town to get back to the Nektons, and tries really hard to fit in. He gets really upset when Nereus shows up, and now has to deal with the Guardians and a furious Alpheus finding out he’s been ‘replaced’ by Ant when it’s revealed Ant is the Chosen One, not him

I’m sure there’s more than these. I’m sure there will be more to come to me in the middle of the night or while watching some new movie or something. But looking through them all, and then thinking back on the repost thread I had with @bluefrogbubbles about the Ant Angst I’ve written, i just thought…Tumblr might love this

#ant nekton #antaeus nekton #the deep 2015 #the deep cartoon #ant angst #oohhh I just can’t help myself #I was introduced to The Deep by a friend in late middle school/early high school #and just latched onto Ant as my favorite blorbo #no clue why he just vibed with me #but as my favorite blorbo #my angsty and heavily depressed behind just had to immediately put him through all the angsty scenarios I could think of #some of the ones I mentioned above are evolved versions of original AUs I came up with when I first got into the show #and with such long timeframes between seasons…I had to come up with my own content and lore and stuff to entertain myself with #sorry Ant for making your life miserable and then fluffy multiple times. it will happen again #the strength it took to sum these all up in as few words as possible #you have no idea

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bengiyo · 1 year

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Minato’s Laundromat 2 Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

I was not even hoping for this to get a sequel, but I am so excited that we are. We so often leave characters at their starting line. Minato unpacked a lot of his own internalized homophobia and cowardice in the last season, and I’m excited to see what the showrunners think the early phase of his relationship with Shin will look like. I’m not much of a fan of time skips, and so this is what I’ve not-so-secretly hoped for when I ask for more stories about gay people staying together.

I like that we’re opening this season with a reaffirmation that Minato actually likes running the laundromat.

There he is! My favorite menace!

I like the new intro.

Asuka!! My second favorite menace!

Okay, I’m legitimately excited for Asuka pursuing more learning for himself. There was a melancholy resignation about his life hanging over him before.

Shin is still crushing the hopes and dreams of potential female suitors.

I really love Japanese filmmaking styles around walking. Asuka jumps in step with Shin, revealing that the two are still friends (despite Shin’s apparent irritation with Asuka). When their issues come up, Shin immediately falls behind. They both stop, and this kicks them into an A-B shot conversation briefly. We’ve landed at the first worry that has broken their stride. It’s good! It communicates so much. Shin is worried about his three-month-old relationship with Minato, Asuka is being picked on to study by everyone and teased about his crush on Shun. These two are still the gay friends who’ve been together forever but are always seemingly picking on each other. It’s great.

I’m enjoying this divide in the way these two are handling being together. Shin has known of his attraction for a long time, and wants Minato to be direct and open about his feelings. Minato is still shy about them, and gets embarrassed.

“Have I been a good boy for the last three months?” There’s my favorite menace!

I’m relieved we’re getting Minato’s internal monologue. Shin is going to speak his feelings aloud because he has no shame about them, but we the audience need to hear Minato’s worries. He’s too anxious a character for us to just read them from his face.

Curious where Minato’s specific hang up on saying “I like you” to Shin comes from.

See, this is what I’m talking about with good use of side couples. We cut away from the mains to Asuka telling Shun he likes him and Shun telling him to focus on his studies. Shun is incapable of returning the romantic feelings Asuka is projecting at him, but he’s been clear about that the whole time. Still, he agrees that Asuka’s presence is a positive one in his life. I’m LOCKED IN.

This beach always looks so uncomfortable.

I have missed Minato’s shirts, but not how hungry they make me.

I love that Asuka goes to Minato to complain about Shun. Minato is also the one not meeting his partner’s vocalized needs, so it puts him in the awkward position of defending Shun. Also amused at Minato dodging the question about whether he and Shin have been intimate, because we know for sure they have.

I hope Shin isn’t playing games with Minato about being busy…but also low-key I hope he’s using this as an opportunity to mess with Minato. I’m sorry. I’m a little shallow. I like when characters misuse malicious compliance to give their romantic partners what they say they want.

“Who’s the real kid here? It seems like it’s me.” Love when we read a character correctly.

You know Minato is approaching 30 because he’s excited about a new broom.

Shin working at the same cram school as Shun gives so much potential for other character dynamics.

Just one of these times I want to see Shin throw hands with Asuka.

Shin remains my favorite. Minato is playing avoidance games again and Shin is not having it.

I’m curious if the reason Shin can’t go home tonight is about the ruined refrigerator and he’s just being dramatic.

I’m not sure how living together works when Minato still has all these hang ups.

I like the new version of the beach outro.

Nishigaki Sho and Kusakawa Takuya are just ridiculously attractive. My goodness.

I’m genuinely excited about what domesticity looks like for these two.

I missed these boys so much! I don’t care if we don’t have a manga to rely upon. I am so excited to get a season about these two starting their relationship. This feels like a warmup for TV Tokyo before we get more of What Did You Eat Yesterday? in the fall. I am just so satisfied with my BL experience lately.

#minato shouji coin laundry 2 #minato shouji coin laundry #minato’s laundromat #minato's laundromat 2 #japanese bl #bl series #Ben watches

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joanvisitsrome · 3 months

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can you write julien x reader who’ve been friends forever and during a sleepover they confess their feelings to each other (with smut if you’re comfortable it’s up to you) 😘

guess what i wrote it bc im actually becoming more and more obsessed with julien right now.

before we get into this, please take a moment to read this as I'm re-iterating one of my (only) guidelines. I do not write smut in my RPFs. I did it once and felt very uncomfortable and will not be doing it again.

Contains: kissing, pining, longing, a lot of backstory, a lot of yapping from me, childhood friends to lovers trope

You and Julien had lived across the street from each other for years. The two of you, since you moved in across the street at the very young age of three years old, were inseparable. And while most childhood best friends grew apart as school went on and what not, the two of you just became even closer, for whatever reason. Neither of you knew why, but you both weren’t against it. The two of you were so close, that, with one flinch of the other’s eye, one knew what the other was thinking.

The two of you were there for each other when you both realized you were gay at around eleven or twelve years old. Julien was first to find out, harboring a one-sided crush on a popular, straight girl at school. You were the first to know, and Julien of course told you this, and the only thing you did was capture her in a hug and tell her that everything was going to be okay. You two had a sleepover that night, where she slept in your arms, safe and sound. This was only the beginning of her years-long crush on you.

It only got worse when you had come out to her a few months later, to which she was forced to point finger guns at you, and make you laugh. For years, she imagined what it’d be like for you to be hers. All she wanted was to repeat that night with you. The night shared between the two of you when she slept in your arms. She wanted to sleep in your arms so badly. Oh, how badly she wanted to kiss you too. All she wanted was to call you her girlfriend.

At the beginning of high school, the two of you began dating other people rather quickly. She was a heartthrob to most of the other gay girls at school, to which she was reluctant to accept at first. She ended up embracing that, after you got your first girlfriend, and she wanted to numb the pain.

And it wasn’t that she didn’t like whoever she dated. She just wished it was you. The two of you would go on double dates quite often, actually, and had a lot of fun. You’d catch her staring at you with her big, saucer-like eyes when you were with your girlfriends tho. And if you were being honest, you’d stare at her too. She’d give her girlfriends the best of the best when it came to treatment, showering them with gifts and love. Sometimes, you would wish you could shapeshift into one of Julien’s girlfriends.

However, there came a time, just before the two of you were about to go to college, that you both were single. The two of you decided to have a sleepover, so you could see what things the two of you had, as you were planning on sharing a dorm room together.

“Can I tell you something?” Julien asked, late into the night.

“Of course. What’s up?” you reply, barely awake.

“I don’t even know how much longer I would’ve been able to contain myself, but here goes. I really, really like you. And I have for the longest time. And all I want is to be with you.” she confesses, years of love she shoved down, for the sake of your friendship, finally released.

“Oh my god. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so tired, and I can’t think straight, and just forget I did,” she rambles, before you pull her in for a kiss.

It’s better than the two of you ever imagined. It erupts butterflies in both of your stomachs, fireworks even. You pull her closer into you so she can straddle your lap, to which she does instantly. She places her hands on your shoulders while you cup her face. You pull away, touching your forehead with hers.

“I like you too.”

“No shit.”

You and Julien spend the rest of the night kissing, nothing more, and releasing whatever pent-up emotions the two of you had towards each other. The two of you enter college a couple, happier than ever.

And who could blame you? The person who knew you the best was now yours.

#julien baker #boygenius #julien baker x reader #fanfic #wlw #lesbian #fluff #boygenius x reader #julien baker fluff

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milfsloverblog · 1 year

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Can you explain how you feel about cons? I struggle with seeing them as like the celeb/influencer/actor (who’s wealthy enough) taking money from regular ppl just for them to say hi? It seems like everyone who goes has a lot of fun but I can’t help but think it’s a waste of money. Especially considering the stories of celebrities throwing away the gifts they’re given as soon as they leave. It almost seems like a way to make their egos feel good and I imagine they go home laughing at how people would do anything to meet them 😖😖 Or maybe I just have anxiety

I absolutely can tell you how I feel about cons, anon!

First of all, going to cons (at least to me) isn’t just about the actors. Sure, I won’t attend a con if I’m not interested in anyone in the line up, but going to a con is so much more than that.

Let’s talk about the whole “celebrities taking money from regular people” thing first. I personally don’t have any issues with paying for an autograph or a photo op, simply because this is part of their job. Like I don’t mind paying a hundred euros for a concert ticket and then queue for 12+ hours to make sure I’m first row, even though I probably won’t be getting any interaction with the artist on stage at all.

I understand not liking the concept of cons, but I’m very glad those exists. I think if you want to meet someone you’re a fan of, someone you look up to, conventions are great. I live in a tiny town in Belgium, there’s no way I’d randomly stumble on a celebrity here like it might happen in London or NYC. So, yes, cons are a nice way to meet those who you look up to. I see it a bit as forcing the hand of fate, if you will. But again, I understand not being into that.

Is it a waste of money? Perhaps. But I could be wasting my money on worse things, if you ask me. I could spend it on alcohol, on going out every weekend, on gambling. I could spend it on clothes (I do, I’m very much guilty of this), on restaurants, etc etc. You might be spending your money in a way that I would find wasteful! We all have different priorities, different things that make us smile, and that’s okay.

For the gifts part, again it’s something that I can understand from the actor’s part. I attended a (relatively small) con in London a couple of months ago and one of my friends was part of the staff. We had lunch together the next day and she told me about how after the con, actors will sort out the things they keep and the ones they don’t. It’s not about them not caring about the gifts or being ungrateful, it’s mostly about luggage space/weight. When they meet hundreds/thousands of fans and get hundreds/thousands of gifts, it only makes sense that they aren’t able to bring all of it back home with them. It is a bit saddening, yes, but no one forces us to gift them something. When I bring a gift to a celebrity at a con, I know there’s a chance they won’t be able to take it home, and I’ve made peace with that thought.

I’ve never really thought about celebrities going home and laughing at the people who’ve met them during cons, to be honest. I feel like it might be because I’ve only met people whom I think would not do that? Take Gwen for example, since she’s the main topic here, I very much doubt that she goes home and just…laughs at her fans with Giles while they share a cuppa. I mean, I don’t personally know her, we only know what she’s willing to show us, but that would be THE plot twist of the century, Gwen actually being a mean girl.

Now, about cons being more than just the actors. I love travelling, there isn’t a day where I’m not thinking about where I’ll be going next. Thanks to cons, I’ve been able to travel to London (the city of my dreams) more often. I’ve been to Dortmund, where I had never been before, and I’ll be going to Liverpool next month.

I have met so many incredible people at conventions, I’ve made friends at cons nearly a decade ago whom I’m still in touch with now. Gwen said something that really stuck with me last weekend. Something about how cons are a place where you can find a tribe, a clan, make friends who share your love for an artist/piece of art.

I feel at peace when I’m at cons. I feel like I can be myself because I’m surrounded by people who understand what it’s like to be a fan of something/someone to the point where you are willing to pay for it.

There is nothing like the feeling of belonging.

I will keep going to cons and meet actors I look up to, I will absolutely keep meeting Gwen whenever I can because I adore listening to her rambling about cinema and theatre and empowerment and how beautiful humans are.

Call me a hedonist if you wish to, but I wake up everyday with a single thought in mind - seeking pleasure no matter what I do. So, how do I feel about cons? I feel about them like I feel about most things I choose to do, they bring me pleasure and I love that.

I hope i was able to enlighten you, anon. I’m sorry this turned into a whole essay, but I do have a lot of feelings to pour when it comes to these things!

#there’s nothing like the feeling of belonging #do what makes you happy #in this house we live a hedonistic lifestyle #gwendoline christie

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boldlyvoid · 2 years

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Dear Eddie Part Two: Question?

Summary: after coming back from "the dead" Eddie adjusts to life as a dad

Warnings: slight smut, mentions of Eddie's quarantine trauma, scars, baby making, pregnancy tests, dad!Eddie

Word Count: 4.6k

Part 1 | Part Two | Part Three coming soon

Trying to tell their friends that Eddie was alive and back and just in hiding under the sheriffs recommendation was hard… they had more questions than anyone expected and Eddie does his best to beat around the bush and save face. Gareth doesn’t drop it for about a month, Dustin convinces Jeff early on and the new, younger members of hellfire who’ve heard so much about him over the years are just happy to meet him.

However, just as soon as they got him back, Eddie was telling them about his thoughts on moving out of Hawkins. He didn’t feel that safe here anymore, he’s already gotten a few looks and it didn’t matter that Police Chief Powell did a conference about his charges being dropped… the story changed a third time and it became town knowledge that he was a victim that also survived, much like Max Mayfield, it just took a while for him to heal.

Most people believed it, his new look really helped, too, he seemed like just a normal guy and people didn’t immediately recognize him… he still wanted to move.

It wasn’t just about him anymore, however, he had a son and a girlfriend with lives and friends and a whole support system they depended on in his absence. He couldn’t tear them away from that just so that he felt un-judged.

The weirdest part of Y/N’s life without him was how she shared a bedroom with Wayne… for 2 years the two of them had twin beds side by side, seeing as she slept all night while he was at work and then he slept all day while she was either at work or with the baby… it was how they lived in the tiny trailer all together and they loved it. He just thought it was a little weird and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t the tiniest bit jealous.

He wasn’t around for 2 years, Wayne’s not a bad-looking dude… Eddie’s heard him bring ladies home before, he knows he’s a good man, he wouldn’t be surprised if she ever got with him or wanted to while he wasn’t there… and he can’t say he blames her. If she needed some loving while he was away, who is he to tell her what was wrong? She deserved to always be loved.

He’s only been home a week, Jamie is asleep in the next room, they just finished cleaning up from the day and made their way back into the main bedroom and his mind couldn’t stop wondering when he sees the beds together yet again.

So he asks. “Did you sleep with Wayne?”

“Ew, oh my god?” She feels disgusted, trying to keep her voice down. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Your beds are pushed together?” He points at the two twins side by side.

“It’s a tiny room? We have separate blankets and schedules, we’ve never slept in here at the same time,” she confirms. “I would never fuck your uncle?”

“Okay,” he whispers, telling her to keep her voice down with just his eyes, “I’m sorry… I just, I didn’t expect you to know the truth about me being away and I always thought you’d move on from—

“You’re an idiot,” she doesn’t sugar coat it. “Buddy, I’ve been so in love with you this whole time I couldn’t sleep with anyone else if you paid me. I was devastated without you, it sent me into labour thinking you were dead. No one, nothing, not even my own two hands have touched me down there in your absence.”

His brows raise and his eyes grow impossibly wide, “seriously?”

She nods, eyes rolling with a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda don’t have the time or the interest, honestly. I mean… I didn’t…” she walks over to him carefully, hand on his chest as she looks up into his eyes, “you wanna make use of these beds being pushed together?”

“Oh, please?” He swoons, “I’ve wanted you every day for so long… I honestly don’t know a day where I didn’t want you.”

“What if…” she presses her lips together, searching for the words to say but they don’t follow. “Never mind. It’s crazy.”

“No, tell me?” He begs, brushing her hair back and cupping her face.

“What if we had another baby? What if you could be here for it this time and we can get that house you’ve been talking about, but we just go a bit north, not too far out of Hawkins, just closer to the boys while they’re in college?” She references his friends, who were now more her friends than anything.

“Yeah,” he’s on board right away. “I mean, I don’t know if it’ll work… I’ve been through a lot, but we can try?”

“What do you mean?”

“They did a million and one tests on me when I came back up to the real world,” he whispers. “I don’t know what that did to my swimmers…”

“Oh,” her face drops. “What kind of tests? Were you sick? Were they just scared you were exposed to something?”

“You haven’t seen it yet,” he whispers. “You don’t know how bad it was and I’m afraid to show you.”

“Show me,” it’s more of an order than a request. “What did they do to you?”

He steps back and raises his palms towards her, “be forewarned, it wasn’t the doctors. You know what Dustin told you about the upside down? It’s like Hawkins but dark and gross and awful and there are monsters down there… these horrific bat things swarmed me, they attacked me, they tried to eat me but it all worked like a hive mind so as soon as Nancy damaged the puppet master, they all died. And then I almost did.”

She stares at him like he has two heads, looking at all his already exposed skin— his neck, arms and face were all unharmed… “what did they do?”

He peels his shirt off carefully, the original wounds and skin graft surgery scars had healed a long time ago, “I’m thinking about tattooing a new nipple on,” he tries to make it funny. But it’s not. She doesn’t find it funny in the slightest. “I hate that they bit off my favourite nip.”

“Why didn’t they take Steve too?” She asks first over everything. “He was bit too, he told me about it. Dustin told me how you lost so much blood in his arms he couldn’t find a pulse that’s the only reason they left you down there but Steve must’ve been infected too if he was bit the way he described, why didn’t he get taken by the scientists?”

“It took them 3 days to come back for me,” he explains, revealing the harsh truth no one else clued her in on. She thought he was just down there for a few hours, she thought they brought him up and he was taken to the hospital right away…

“I was exposed to so much, like Will, and I had no one to negotiate the terms while I was unconscious unlike how he had his mom. And the lab. If I could’ve stayed here and just gone to the lab every few days for checkups I would’ve preferred that.”

“We all would’ve,” she feels angry. Like so much more than just time was stolen from them.

“I’m back now, though… and I would like to try if you still want to?”

“For another baby?” She softens right up. “Really?”

He nods, “I knew on my way to your last address that I wanted to pick up where we left off, I wanted to marry you and have babies with you in a town we’ve never been to before… but I think staying here and expanding the family we already have before getting married is still good.”

“Me too,” she steps back into his space and wraps her arms around his neck, chest to chest, “thats not me say yes either, big guy. You’ve still gotta ask.”

“I will,” he smiles, hands at her waist slowly making their way down to her hips. “Later,” and then her ass where he pulls her in tighter. “Sex hasn’t changed at all in the last 3 years, right?

She laughs, “as if I know? If I remember correctly, even without any experience you were still wonderful… I can just imagine what 2 years of thinking about me does.”

“Oh the thoughts I’ve had,” he picks her up and turns them towards the bed, tossing her down on the mattress as the two of them scramble to get up to the pillows before grabbing at each other again. She holds his face in her hands as he lunges for her lips, kissing her with so much passion and want.

Her hands wander down his neck, over his shoulders where his skin is so impossibly warm still. She lets her hands explore his skin, the new textures are interesting, but he’s still the same underneath it all.

She breaks the kiss to look at his chest, staring between them as she runs her fingers over the scar tissue, “I think it’s cool, and sexy, and proves just how strong you are.”

“Can I just be soft and loving tonight?” He asks completely earnestly. “I don't have it in me to pretend anymore.”

“Yeah,” it almost breaks her heart. “Let go, baby, you’re safe with me.”

—

Eddie gets a job at the rebuilt Star Court mall, he runs the record store with pretty good pay and decent hours, meaning she can take fewer shifts and watch Jamie more. They even start house hunting on Eddie’s day off, they have a favourite that they want to put a bid on, they just need Wayne to check it out too, seeing as he’s coming with them.

She wouldn’t even dream of continuing to raise her family without him, Papa Wayne is the best grandpa in the whole state. Today he wakes up a bit early before his shift so the three of them can go look at the house, and maybe hit the grocery store on their way home, Wayne will do anything for the chance to spoil his grandson with sweets.

He drives them out of town, Jamie in his car seat in the back, she keeps turning around to try and peak at him to make sure he’s safe and okay, Wayne eventually places his hand on her kneecap and rubs his thumb on her gently. “He’s fine, what’s got you so nervous?”

“I uh,” she takes a deep breath. “I don’t feel good…”

His brows raise but his eyes stay on the road, “what kinda not feelin’ good?”

“Like the possibly knocked-up again kind of not feelin’ good…” she admits, “we agreed to try again if we’re moving and have the space so that he can experience it all this time and Jamie would be a big brother… please don’t be mad at me.”

She suddenly feels like a kid again, afraid to lose her support because she wanted to have another one of Eddie’s babies. But he shuts those fears down real quick.

“You’re 22,” he reminds her, giving her knee another squeeze of approval. “And already a wonderful mom, if we’re gonna have the space now, I think it’s going to be a nice addition to what we got goin’ on already.”

“Me too, thank you,” she relaxes into the seat finally, staring out at the road with a smile. “I’m so surprised how easy it’s been to transition back into life with him like he’s never been gone… and James loves him so much it’s amazing.”

“It’s his instincts,” Wayne explains. “That boy knows his daddy, blood or not, Eddie took one look at him and Jamie knew he was safe.”

“Like Eddie with you,” she reminds him. “I never really got to thank you for taking him in when we were little, I mean I was so mad he moved away to Hawkins but you saved him from being hurt anymore and I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“You don’t need to,” he’s always had a hard time taking compliments and praise. “How would you feel if I thanked you for making my family bigger? Huh?”

She smiles, shaking her head with a slight laugh, “I’d say you’re welcome 'cause I know you mean it, ya old grump. Take a compliment, you’re a wonderful dad to an equally wonderful dad.”

“Shut up,” he takes his hand off her knee to wipe his face, “you’re too nice, no wonder he keeps getting you pregnant.”

She smacks his arm lightly, “hey!”

“I’m kidding,” he can’t help but laugh. “I wouldn’t mind having a hundred grandkids.”

“Good, 'cause I want as many as I can have with him,” she’s honest. “I love how much Jamie looks like us, I wanna see every little face we can make together.”

—

“What’s it say?!” Eddie’s practically on top of her when she comes out of the bathroom.

Wayne on the other hand gives her some space, holding Jamie in his arms as they all wait to see if she’s pregnant again. It’s such a lovely, yet suffocating change from the last time she was in this situation. The last time she was so alone it was terrifying, now she’s surrounded by her 3 favourite boys.

“It needs time, I just left it in there we’ll go back in and get it soon,” she explains, holding Eddie around his middle in a quick hug. “I really hope I am… I’m already thinking about what I want to do with the baby’s room at the new place.”

“So we're getting it?” Eddie turns to Wayne, wanting to know all of his thoughts.

“We’re putting in an offer, yeah,” he confirms with a smile. He turns to Jamie and bounces him so he laughs, “this little guy loved the backyard swing and I was thinking I could build him a slide, or a sandbox for his trucks?”

James lights up, “yeah!”

“Yeah!” Eddie and Y/N smile back at him, reaching out to take a hand of his each and shake them lightly. “You’re going to have the best time in a big house, buddy,” Eddie can’t help thinking about it all and how wonderful it’ll be.

“And a great big brother,” Y/N adds.

“Papa will teach you all about that, he was such a good big brother,” Eddie smiles at Wayne. “My mom said he was always the best, maybe you’ll get a little sister too.”

“Good luck to all of us,” Wayne teases. “The last girl Munson we had was your mom and she was such a ball buster… I do miss her though.”

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie sighs as he brushes Jamie's curls back, he looked so much like himself and Eddie knew he looked like his mom, so in a way, he was also looking at his mom when he looked at his son.

“I’m going to check it,” Y/N references back to the bathroom door, “should I bring it out here or tell you or?”

“Can I do it?” Eddie asks, “I wanna tell you if you are…”

“Yeah, go for it,” she swoons, letting him walk off into the bathroom to find the test face down on the counter, on top of some toilet paper, waiting to be read.

He takes a deep breath and says a small prayer in his mind, hoping whoever was listening would give him and the love of his life another baby so he could feel like a good dad finally. He wanted more than anything to be present in this little one's entire life while he still made up for his absence over the last year to James every day moving forward. He slowly flips the test, eyes closed, he bites his lip and holds his breath as he peeks with one eye.

Two lines.

“Oh my god,” he covers his mouth in shock and runs out to her, holding the test up in the air, “oh my god!”

“Really!?” She starts to jump up and down, waving her arms slightly before she jumps into eddies, holding him tight. “We did it!”

As if they forget Wayne is there, they share a few kisses and congratulations, wrapped up in each other's embrace and mutual glee. “Mama’s having a baby,” they hear him explaining to Jamie, ever so sweetly. “They’re just happy, it’s not sad.”

They both turn back to his worries that their hysterics freaked him out, “it’s so exciting, buddy,” they explain to him softly. “You’re gonna be a big brother.”

He reaches out for his mom, jumping right into her arms and burying his face in her neck, she cups his head and sways with him, “I can’t believe we’re gonna have another one of you.”

“I can’t wait to be here for it,” Eddie’s eyes are full of tears as he watches them dance.

Wayne pats his back, “me too,” he agrees. “I never did get to see ya all pregnant either, you think we can come to one of those cool sonogram appointments?”

“Yeah,” she nods, smiling with her whole face, “I’d love to have you there this time.”

—

Eddie is so careful about buckling his son into his van, he double and triple checks the straps and the buckle before clocking the door and getting back into the front seat, “you ready to go?”

“Yeah!” He cheers back. “Moo-sick?”

“Sure thing, dude,” his heart melts as he reaches for the nob on the stereo, “let’s see what we got today…” he tunes into the closest rock station to hear one of the many fan-fucking-tastic songs that were released during his quarantine. Looking in the rearview mirror, his little boy is head-banging along to the words, holding his favourite teddy under his arm and a big smile on his face. He’s the cutest thing in the world.

The drive is short, they are able to listen to only a song and a half but James makes them sit and wait for the song to finish, he doesn’t let his dad unbuckle him until the radio man comes back on. So Eddie turns around in his seat to look at him, “Buddy, there’s a record store here, I can show you all kinds of music?”

He lights right up, “weally?” He can’t really say his r’s yet.

“Yeah, come on,” he finally shuts the engine off and hops out of the van, swinging the back door open he unclips the buckle and helps his little guy to his feet.

Holding hands they walk all the way through the parking lot together and into the mall where everyone is looking at him. He picks James up, feeling like he needs to guard his son against the oncoming looks. It was strange for them to see Eddie Munson the child murderer with his own kid, he knew that’s why they were looking.

And everyone knew it was his kid too, obviously. But now they knew for sure. It was one thing when Y/N lived with him, the old gossip was that she was another one of Wayne’s siblings' kids that he took in, there were a few people who suspected Eddie got Y/N pregnant and then dipped, but most of them just thought Wayne was being charitable.

“Come on bud,” he ignores the stares and the whispers and smiles at his little boy, “we need to go make a few t shirts first and then we can go get a new album and listen to it at home.”

Up the escalator and down the hall, they finally get to the shirt printing store where Eddie heads right towards the toddler t-shirts. He sets James down and holds a shirt up to him, “this should fit you, what colour do you want?”

“Gween!” He yells, jumping up and down while pointing at the green shirt on the wall.

“Green it is,” Eddie laughs, standing up to reach for the green shirt in James’ size. “Follow me,” he points towards the counter, walking slowly so James can keep up.

He places it on the counter with a smile, luckily the person working there is a teenage girl with no preconceived notions about him. “What would you like, today?”

“Do you have any presets that say like ‘will you marry me?’ On them?” He asks carefully. “I want to dress him and then when his mom unzips his hoodie she’ll see it and I can propose.”

“Cute,” she genuinely doesn’t care. “I think I can make that for you,” she says, flicking through the patterns in her file folder until she pulls out a basic sheet of paper with cursive text saying “will you marry me?” On it. “This good?”

“Perfect,” he agrees, handing her the small shirt.

She sizes it, prints the letters on white vinyl and presses it to the shirt all within a few minutes. Holding up the final product, she finally smiles, “this okay?”

“It’s amazing, thank you so much,” Eddie’s so enthusiastic about it. He pays, the shirt is placed in a bag and he hands it to James to hold on their walk out.

“Ready to go to the music store?” He asks, not as excited seeing as he works there 5 days a week, it’s not a new place for him.

“Yeah!” He reaches up, wanting to be held again.

And who was he to say no? He picks his little guy up again and snuggles him close, kissing his cheek a few times, “I love you, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he smiles, resting his head on his dad's shoulder as they walk down the hall.

He’s never felt so right before. He used to feel he had no purpose, but holding his son, and seeing the perfect person he was able to make made everything in his life worth it. His son is everything to him, his next kid was going to be just as loved too. And they’d both grow up with married parents in a big house with a happy life, everything he always wanted, he was going to give to them.

James wiggles out of his arms when he sees his favourite store and makes a b-line right to the headphones on the wall. “Woah there, dude, we need to pick something to listen to first.”

“Mal-ika!” He yells, “mal-ika, mal-ika!”

“Metallica it is,” he smiles, walking through the rock aisle on his way over to the book, taking Metallica's Master of Puppets tape off the shelf and bringing it over to his little guy who already had his headphones on, waiting to rock out.

He could really tell his friends raised him so far, he loved heavy metal, he wanted his curly hair long, he wore little band tee’s and he was just so fucking cool. He was gonna have to thank Gareth and Jeff for keeping his memory alive through music, especially when they thought he was really gone.

He sits there, in the booth with his son as he head-bangs along to the loud music in his headphones, thinking about his life now. It felt like yesterday he was spending a month alone in his room learning how to play Master of Puppets and then he used it to save the world and now his son wants to listen to it all the time.

“Anything I can help you with?” His co-worker asks with a cheeky smile, knowing he doesn’t.

“No, I’m good, Hank,” he smiles back. “We already have all these albums at home, he just likes to come in.”

“Of course he does,” Hank enthused. “He’s the famous James Munson… one day we’re gonna have his songs in here.”

“I hope,” Eddie holds him tight and kisses the top of his head just as he starts to drum along to the solo on the desk, “however… I think he might be a drummer.”

“Gareth got to him,” Hank sighs, playfully.

“He loves his uncle Gare,” Eddie understands perfectly. “But once his hands are big enough I will be getting him a guitar and teaching him everything I know… I’m a bit rusty right now, but by then I should be caught back up.”

“And you’ll have new Metallica stuff to learn together,” Hank reminds him with a smile.

“True,” he honestly hadn’t thought about it.

But suddenly he was even more excited to grow up alongside his kids.

—

“Why is he so bundled up?” She asks as soon as she sees James, walking in the front door after work, exhausted. “It’s June, he’s going to sweat to death.”

“He asked for it,” Wayne lies, shrugging. “Said he was cold.”

“Oh no,” she gets down on her knees and cups his face, touching her lips to his forehead, “he’s not fevered… but he is warm. Let’s get you out of this, buddy,” she explains while she unzips his hoodie and peels his little arms out of it.

It takes her a minute to read his shirt, not even registering that it’s not what she dressed him in that morning. She reads it slowly,

“Will you marry— oh my fucking god?”

“Ooh my fuckin’ god,” he repeats back to her, completely perfect.

“No,” she can’t help herself from laughing as the tears start, “you can’t say that… but, oh my god?” She covers her mouth and turns to Wayne, and then the other way, towards their bedroom in the tiny trailer where Eddie was standing.

He stepped out into the sunlight and then got down on one knee, “you told me I had to really ask… so will you marry me?”

She didn’t think she’d be this emotional when it finally happened, she also didn’t think she’d be pregnant. She thought about this moment a lot growing up, she always imagined she’d marry him, and she always knew it would happen. Having it happen like this, however, surrounded by their family, even if it was just Wayne and James, it felt perfect. More perfect than anything she ever imagined.

She waves him over, crying too much to get up and go to him and James was a little freaked out by the tears too. He snuggled into her chest, “mama?”

“It’s okay, baby,” she kisses his head. “Your daddy wants me to marry him… should I do it? Should I marry daddy?”

He nods, “marry daddy!”

“Okay, I will,” she can’t stop smiling, overjoyed with how this all played out.

Eddie gets on the floor beside her, wrapping them up in his arms, kissing his soon-to-be wife’s forehead and then his sons. “Can I put this on you?” He asks, showing her the simple band with 3 diamonds on it.

“Yeah,” she nods, holding back more tears.

He slides the rings over her finger carefully, bringing her hand to his lips he kisses her knuckles. “I can’t wait to marry you."

“Me either,” she presses a kiss right to his lips, breathing him in deeply as he holds the kiss there.

And then James jumps in, kissing his mommy’s cheek with a giggle, slobbering on her slightly. Toddler kisses were always the wettest, but also the sweetest. They break from the kiss with matching smiles, Eddie grabs James by the waist and tickles him while she cups his little face and smothers him in kisses, making the whole trailer erupt in the purest noise known to man.

Little happy baby giggles. A perfect example of how the rest of their lives would always be.

Taglist

@fightingdragonswithwho @mrs-dr-reid @kyomito @reidselle @venomsvl @nomajdetective @girl-with-an-orange-cat @stevesmunsons @blairscott @sweetyyhippyy @wroteclassicaly @reidsbookclub

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 4

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yaksha-lover · 6 months

Note

Hi hi hiiiiiiiiii!!!

How are you doing on this rainy(at least for me) day? I hope everything’s been going well for you, remember to make time to take care of yourself even if you’re busy!!

I saw your requests are closed so I’m actually just here to ask something about your yandere!diasomnia vampire au (I’ve read all of your rules, but if I’ve misunderstood anything and broke any of them in this ask feel free to ignore this!)

Since they’re all vampires and it’s mentioned that Malleus is an ancient vampire, I’m assuming that their order of birth (if not their ages since they’re immortal) are more or less the same

What I would like to know is how they ended up as vampires? Is it a “vampire as a species that can reproduce” kind of au? Or did they each get turned by someone else?

And if it’s like that, is there any risk for reader to become a vampire (since it’s mentioned that they’re still human) maybe to make them immortal so that they may remain forever with the diasomnia group?

Also how did they manage to make reader stay with them? Why are they the first? Were there other attempts to make humans stay with them? Why did they fail?

Sorry if this is too much! Again, take all the time you need and feel free to ignore the ask if there’s anything that bothers you!!

Bye and remember to drink lots of water!!

Hey!! It actually did rain for me today as well haha, I am good, thank you for asking. Hope you’re doing well too! You’re all good I promise, I love getting asks and questions about stuff I’ve written!!

Yeah, it’s meant to be similar to canon where Lilia is the oldest, Malleus is old but not as old as Lilia, and Silver and Sebek are relatively young for vampires (compared to those who’ve been alive for centuries).

It could be read either way, but to me it was definitely a ‘they got turned by someone else’ thing. I imagine Lilia getting turned by someone in his younger days, and then going on to eventually turn people he finds dying and offers them a chance to be saved (kind of like Carlisle in Twilight if you’ve seen it lmao). So on his journey, he eventually saves Malleus, then maybe a hundred years later saves Silver, then Sebek, and they come across reader maybe fifty years later. Because of the way things have played out, Lilia does become the same father or father-figure to them that he is in canon, taking responsibility for their well-being and also their happiness (which is why he doesn’t really care what reader wants, his sons come first).

Hmm, I’m a bit indecisive about reader becoming a vampire because on one hand, they absolutely want reader to stay with them forever. At the same time, I think part of what makes them so attached to reader is the aspect of humanness which all of them have lost and now long for. Being a vampire means hiding, it means feeling ashamed, and it means being hopelessly cold and lonely for an unthinkable amount of time.

I think with reader, that sense of humanness is very refreshing to them, and it reminds them of their lives before they were forced (in a life or death decision) to become vampires. Reader is normal, and despite everything, as kind as one can be in that situation. They’re very ‘real’ and feel their emotions in a way that’s become distant to the vampires. Not to mention the aspect of taking their blood to be something sacred in a special but different way to each of the boys.

(But, yes, when the time comes, they probably will force reader to become a vampire, to make a long story short.)

As for how they got reader to stay, I think at first reader might’ve stumbled across their house, asking for help and a place to stay temporarily (during an emergency - they’re the only house for hundreds of kilometers) and then they just…never let reader leave, even after they freak out about learning about vampires.

Maybe it starts with guilt tripping about leaving them behind after the ‘kind gesture’ of helping reader when they were a stranger, then it’s some intense coercion and vague threats about not letting them leave, then (as you saw in the drabble), reader tries to run away and finds out the threats aren’t as empty as they might’ve thought. At this point, they’re aware that wherever they go, all that’s in store is Lilia hunting them down again and a whole lot of pain, so there isn’t much sense in trying to leave again.

As for why reader is the first, it’s not that they would fail to keep any human in the past, it’s just that this is the first time they’ve really wanted to. Maybe other humans have stayed with them very briefly too in the past (during an emergency like reader), but it’s just never clicked before. There’s never been someone they can agree upon, that all of them truly like enough to want to keep around; reader is the first they really grow attached to.

Thank you for this lovely ask, I hope you take care of yourself as well!

#thanks for the ask!#sorry this may have derailed a bit i realize i wrote a far too lengthy response #it wasn’t that deep but anyway lmao #yaksha-lover replies #k. cold

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alargehunkofdebris · 1 year

Text

The Flip-Flopping Confidence of Aziraphale

So I made a post a bit ago about Aziraphale’s reaction to the kiss, and someone very correctly pointed out that Aziraphale does not believe he is undesirable (as I had claimed in-essay), citing that one little look in the first scene, after Crowley calls the universe “gorgeous.”

This is so true. What the heck is with that look?

I’ve thought about it, and here are my thoughts.

Long story short, Aziraphale is a big ol’ ball of contradictions, as is what sometimes happens with people who’ve suffered in toxic relationships.

But short story long, however…

Okay, so first of all, Aziraphale’s happy little expectation thinking that a complete stranger would call him “gorgeous” out of absolutely nowhere is bonkers. No other word for it. If I met someone for the first time, and they called me “gorgeous” straight to my face, apropos of nothing, no lead up whatsoever, I would be looking over my shoulder, wondering what the hell they were referring to. So this is either a very angel thing to do (they could just go around complimenting each other back then, who knows) or—and this is kinda my opinion—this was just a funny foreshadow thing that Mr. Gaiman did for the fans and to set the tone of the season. Or a mix of both. Remember, this is portraying the beginning of time—this is before they even really had corporeal forms. What we see, I’m guessing, is less a purely accurate visual of what happened and merely a representation. A stage-play version of the events. Yes, this is a comedy that uses modernisms to juxtapose for humor (referencing lead balloons before balloons were even invented, etc) but we can still (if we want) imagine that, for this to logically work, this is just a way of conveying these events in a way our 21st century brains can handle. For all we know, these two were balls of energy, conversing in some ancient star language through telepathy. And at this point, appreciation for another’s form might’ve just been a common thing. They were all so gorgeous, they just went around appreciating each other.

I don’t think this was meant to be so deep dived, however (doved? doven?). I think Gaiman just wanted a cute scene that shows their flirtation from the beginning. But I will argue, still, that this is at a point where Aziraphale hadn’t developed any kind of self-esteem issues. He was a baby angel, used to compliments, or maybe just so new with interaction that he wouldn’t have been surprised by anything. Let’s just say this: the Aziraphale of modern day probably wouldn’t have made that assumption.

It's a sad thing to think, but I think the modern day Aziraphale is one who has lost a portion of the self-confidence he’d carried in that first scene.

Because he is, at heart, a confident person, even when all evidence contradicts that feeling. He feels confident he can do slight-of-hand magic when he barely can, for example. But, after 6000 years of living amongst the humans, I’d say he’s also nestled very comfortably into the role of observer, never truly a part of anything. He playacts, and has fun, but knows he’ll never be a true magician. He makes believe, and has fun, but he’d never be a real reporter. He puts on ball, and dances, but he’ll never truly experience romantic love.

I think this stems hugely from this concept of being a mediocre angel. He’s felt that, ever since he befriended a demon. He’s been an observer of the “good” angels, but was never quite up to snuff himself (with exception, likely, to the time before the Fall). Crowley, on the other hand, while technically has been a “bad” demon, has still maintained a great reputation in Hell because he’s just damn good at selling himself. Aziraphale is too honest to lie, so he’s always (in my head) been a subpar employee, even before Armageddon’t. And his bosses don’t have any qualms about reminding him—they belittle him constantly, familiarly. To the point where Aziraphale has internalized this nugget of self doubt that keeps him from taking risks, going against the status quo, etc.

I know very well this weird, contradictory feeling. One moment you feel hot, and self-confident, and like no one on Earth can touch you. The next, moment, that old standby mode kicks in, and your feeling 6/10 once more. It’s a reminder, a wake-up alarm – don’t go too far, bucko. Don’t get too big for your britches. Remember who you are.

The times he feels the least connected to this self-doubt, this built-up lack of self-confidence, is when he is just doing small things with Crowley, and usually when it’s not anything high-stakes that would involve Heaven/Hell. He can bicker happily with Crowley about the car, he can nettle Crowley into doing a little apology dance, he can put on a ball and have fun. These low-risk times are when he can let loose, be happy and confident and himself, because these small moments will go unnoticed by Heaven. He’s not at risk of his bubble being burst, of being told “stop that. Remember your place.”

And that voice, tell him to stop and remember his place, is what keeps his confidence in check for the big things. Things like acknowledging that he and Crowley are more than friends, that Crowley wants to be with him so badly. Because, technically, Crowley is a much more “impressive” being than Aziraphale, and always has been. He was a higher-ranking angel, and was the demon chosen to tempt the humans. Though Aziraphale had a big job (that he screwed up on immediately, of course) he was still not the top in his rank (I don’t know anything about the bible, but if he was the angel of the Eastern Gate, I always assumed there were more guarding the walls/gates). Aziraphale was always getting reprimanded for his work, and Crowley was getting praise. Aziraphale is so used to being the “lesser” angel that he might even apply that title to him and Crowley, and be shocked at the idea that a slick, laid-back, higher-ranking demon (who is not typically even capable of love, perhaps) could make an exception for such a mediocre being. Despite all their flirtations and years of friendship, Aziraphale still sees it as this kind of play-acting – a dance they do for fun, but it’s never serious.

This is, of course, just one opinion in my brain – there’s a lot of ways to interpret it, and I can’t decide which one I really believe. Because if Aziraphale really saw nothing there, then what was the “you go too fast for me, Crowley” all about? It could’ve just been yet another moment of “You go too fast…in friendship,” thing, but who knows.

What I do know is that there’s something always holding Aziraphale back from Crowley, but it is not for lack of want. Aziraphale wants it just as much as Crowley. But he’s got many, many potential things holding him back from even considering this life – fear of heaven, lack of self-confidence, lack of trust, etc. It’s all adding up to one thought, the theme that’s threaded through his long, long, life—you’re not allowed to do this. You’re an angel, nothing less, nothing more.

#good omens 2 #good omens 2 spoilers #good omens spoilers #good omens #go2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #good omens 2 meta #good omens meta #aziraphale

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snooeycatwrites · 8 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tag, @oh-no-another-idea! Accountability games for the win. Anyway, here is a mid-novel section I’ve been cleaning up in preparation to hand it over to an editor.

---

Clearly, he didn’t understand what her father had been like before.

If only Kyetki understood more of what to explain to him herself. Maybe she should have asked Epenimes more about Ukel before they went searching for Zaem. “We can ask-”

Zaem snorted loudly. “I doubt your father would make you be perfect in your devotion to him if you’d been born mortal.” He lobbed his snowball toward Rukli and stuck his tongue out. “I think that about you treating anyone so unfairly and mercilessly! I hadn’t heard of you treating even your own children that way.”

Kyetki flinched on her father’s behalf. She knew Zaem didn’t understand, but…. Unfair? Merciless? She hated how he expected it from Ukel. She had to tell him, even if she couldn’t meet him in the eye when she did. “I don’t think it’s fair to think of him that way after I stole those domains from him.”

For several long moments, Zaem said nothing to her.

She glanced at him, and he was flinching as he formed another frozen ball in his hands.

“Maybe you need a little more explanation,” he said. “You think those are his domains? What do you think happens when you go around showing mercy to people who’ve run afoul of his laws? Chaos. You get that.”

“You get mercy. Mercy is the reason people don’t give up on the system.” Though it was true, she recalled the chaos caused by new monsters like the living flame being allowed to run mercifully free, just as he’d said.

“It’s a much-needed chaos, in other words.” Zaem smiled at her. “Chaos is where mercy is, not order. Order just has the legal system to deal with people like you and me.”

She felt her heart sink at his words. If he was right, how could anyone expect favorable treatment from her father? After all, even he made systems with little flaws and innocents they let down.

She could reply in no more than a whisper: “But what about the justice that’s found in a court of law? Isn’t separating criminals from their victims mercy to the innocent?”

The innocent, like Epenimes. He must have been falsely accused to quickly restore the peace. What happened when what was just was not the same as what upheld the societal order? It could hardly be called merciful to deny justice in favor of creating a scapegoat.

Epenimes would be able to give Kyetki some insight on Ukel after what happened to him, and then maybe she’d know how to feel about her divine domain in relation to her father’s. Should the relation be what Zaem said it was between her and him?

Beside her, Zaem chuckled. He offered her the snowball.

She refused him, packing together one of her own instead. The two of them threw the balls down the mountain together.

Her stomach growled loudly.

His stomach growled loudly too, and he elbowed her in the side. “I bet it’s your hunger bringing your mood down. I know you’ve seen my point. Let’s go find something to eat and get you under my protection, yes?”

He knew her too well.

She pretended to focus on her footing as she got to her feet so she wouldn’t have to look at him. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better, but won’t your father be angry if you steal one of his priests? We should go ask Epenimes what’s going on with everything.”

“Did he tell you you’d be one of my father’s priests? If that’s true, he stole you from me! I made him promise you’d get the offer to be my chief cleric when you came of age.”

Had Lokyesser intended for her to be Zaem’s clergy? He’d never stated directly which chaotic god it was she was meant to serve. “Look, I never got the details about which god it is I’d be a cleric to. I only heard it was one of the chaotic deities, so I thought…. We really do need to find Epenimes.”

Zaem silently turned his head toward the mountain’s peak. Was he imagining their mother still resting up there after the injuries she’d sustained decades ago?

Kyetki sucked in some cold air and calmed whatever nerves were showing on her face. “Do you still want to see her right now? We can give her longer to rest if we visit Epenimes first.”

Their stomachs growled again.

“I’m hungry.” Zaem grabbed her arm and led the way to Tyezasski’s statue. “Sorry, Mom. I have to take care of Kyetki too. I’ll see you soon.”

---

I am sending no-pressure tags to @athenswrites, @cream-and-tea, @hallwriteblr, @flowerprose, @full-on-sam, @italiangothicwriteblr, @rmgrey-author, and @wrenofthewords for WIP Wednesday. I am also sending an open tag to anyone else who would like to participate.

#wip wednesday #tag game #my writing #writeblr

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memetaped · 11 months

Text

a place of one’s own taken from the 1945 film.

silly old goose.

i’m a great believer in warm feet.

send me away. i’m just a nuisance to you.

we’ll never send you away.

now, off to bed you go. have a good night’s sleep and come down to breakfast with some color in your cheeks.

well, you won’t get patience by thinking.

perhaps you’re what this house needs. youth, laughter, and gaiety.

you’re just a slip of a thing, aren’t you?

but you better put your fingers in your ears.

you’ll have a cup of tea.

let me go! you’re breaking my arm!

it’s only a passing storm, darling. clouds can’t hurt us.

your hands are trembling, dear.

what do you say about it, matey?

it’s all right. we’re with you.

why, you’re like one of our own.

now, you’ll get a nice rest and then you’ll feel as right as rain.

as you grow older, you learn one thing. every house needs young people. it’s lonely without them.

i try to hide. even from myself.

you’ll be ill next if you’re not careful.

look what you’ve done to my arm.

now just lean back and be comfy, dear.

you must remember to keep your ghost to yourself, my child.

but won’t you let me prepare a bed for you for the night?

if there’s one thing i can’t stand, it’s mystery.

this (girl’s/boy’s) been ill in bed for the better part of a week and no one seems to know what the matter is.

you’d be so much happier without me.

well, i’ve been up for the last few nights.

we make our own ghosts. they are the figments of our imagination.

if you ask me, it’s none of your business.

i’m very good with fires.

there’s only one way to deal with nonsense. ignore it.

you’ve got the law on your side.

i’ll protect my own and no power on earth is going to stop me.

i was born and bred in these parts, and i’ve never known a storm last this song.

you’re getting very jumpy here. you need some exercise.

what’s the matter with you? moonstruck?

now, now, now, now. temper!

there was a suffocating feeling and then i knew. that here, in my heart, there was someone else. not me.

i’ve been hoping that you’d give up fighting against it.

now run along indoors before it starts coming down.

you know, it's a funny thing about houses. you can feel the character of them.

don’t be too hard on yourself, dear.

it’s unhealthy to take seriously what’s really morbid superstition.

do you believe that houses hold something of all the people who’ve lived in them?

i’ve got to know what’s troubling you.

funny thing, etiquette. never bothered me much.

you know, there’s a theory gaining ground that, if you believe in something enough, you helped create it.

why did i say that? i’ve never heard it before. i’ve never read it anywhere. i don’t know where it came from.

you know how you’ve always trusted in my instinct.

you believe that when we die, we leave behind something of ourselves. i mean some kind of influence for good or evil.

oh, the poor lad. he’ll be ill himself, soon, if he doesn’t get some rest.

i’ve never been so thankful in all my life. i’ve prayed for this to happen.

please don’t leave me.

it’s all right. you’ve got nothing to lose by talking.

i know you want me to die, but i won’t. you’ll have to murder me.

you know, i’ve never had a companion before.

#movie tag.#rp meme #rp sentence meme #askbox meme

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alittleghostwhoeatsbread · 11 months

Text

As Safe As Houses

Like that of footsteps on foot soldier leaves felled from trees during the annual orange war, the arm rustled as it was drawn back, but there was no sound at all as it was thrown, soaring in a flat arc with the gay grey grace of a pigeon before deciding that it wouldn’t be silenced and letting out a ping! as it bounced harmlessly off my breastplate, the it of it being a pebble- or small stone depending how large loose rock has to be for you to promote it from pebble to small stone- and so doing only a ping! amount of damage. Through my visor, I watched the mouth attached to the throwing arm get maniacal as its owner, a boy with sausage roll type thumbs, bent and picked up another hunk of rock, one which nobody, no matter what their opinion in the pebble/stone debate, would not consider a STONE- capitalized for the danger its sharp mineral edges posed- hurling that at me too with a further rustling like that of a packet of crisps being domestically abused, this STONE not soaring with any gayness or grace but zipping, almost invisibly, with the speed of a rock whose life motto was its ore or nothing, colliding with my breastplate with a clang!

“Why are you standing there? Here?” the sausage roll thumb boy asked as quick as lickety once did the splits, another STONE already in hand ready to let fly. “You should be at a castle or something. Are you a weirdo? Something else?”

I was about to spin a yarn so tight around him he’d know for sure that I wasn’t a weirdo but very normal and that my armour was also normal and merely a precaution, like the inflatable suits those who’ve been hit by cars wear to prevent any other damn car intending to hit them from hurting them again, and that he shouldn’t throw rocks at me because that really devalued my precaution, but just then Beth came out of the coffee shop with our drinks, saw the patch of dirt the STONE had left on my breastplate, and made the boy leave me alone by doing what Beth did so well, which was toss her temper in some easily lost in woods in such a spectacular way that she didn’t have to say anything to make people deeply regret doing the something that'd made her temper be tossed, her face going as red as the belly of the beast who’d forgot their sun cream, her body contorting, wiggling like a slab of heated butter being struck with a tenderiser. At seeing such a sight, the sausage roll thumb boy fled into the day, leaving me with already spun yarn to swallow and gratitude to express as Beth, satisfied but still red faced, smiled and handed me my coffee specially equipped with a twisty visor accessible straw, grabbing my free gauntlet before I could express anything and dragging me towards the park and the point in the park we went every Sunday, Intervention Point, a point living beneath a fat, rather squat, tree that's trunk had been so shrouded by its own overhanging branches it resembled an upside down mop we entered by pushing said overhanging branches apart and revealing a circular space invisible from the outside, filled with logs and other such woodenry for Beth and me to sit on.

“It’s been four years today, Delroy. Do you or do you don’t think you’re finally ready to step out of that armour, feel the air?”

“Beth, not today or possibly ever, I'm not ready, and it's because I just don't need to feel that. I can feel the air, it runs through my joints sometimes and is oh-so rejuvenating when it does, and most importantly, I feel safe.”

“But being clad from head to toe, still, it's just unnecessary. Isn't it?"

“True... if I take the un from unnecessary and toss it in a blender to make the word I think you know it makes but which I’ll say anyway. Necessary. Look at this dirt on my breastplate, Beth. If I hadn’t been cladded from at least torso to toe, I could have been mildly hurt, mildly!”

“But you wouldn’t have had rocks tossed at you if you hadn’t been wearing armour!” Beth gripped some of the hanging branches that hung into the space of Intervention Point, wrapping them gently around her fist and rubbing the green leaves on her cheek, clearly preparing to say what she was always going to say, all the while knowing that what she was preparing to say would exasperate me to no ends. “It’s the solution to the problem it causes.”

“Don’t get therapeutic on me. You know I hate it when you get therapeutic. You’re supposed to be my friend and support me, not give me know-it-all advice with no thought for how I would advise if I wanted to advise myself. The armour isn’t a problem and most of the time I forget I’m in it at all.”

“Don’t get defensive, Delroy. Remember, you’re not a coconut tree so stop dropping spiky balls on me. Also, don’t pretend that I don’t also know what it’s like to be in armour. I was more than half clad in metal myself when we met.”

I put my helmet in hand and sighed, looking around at the fragments of yellowish light that filtered in through the Intervention Point tree’s dense leaves and lived as butterflies- swirling hand in hand with smaller fragments of dust when young and bright before abruptly discarding childish things such as swirling and being hand in hand, settling down in patches on the same leaves Beth had rubbed up on her face and fading to black-enjoying how said light, while swirling at least, glinted off the armour I’d conditioned in the bath that very morning so it would act like a prize poodle and shine for this meeting with Beth. I fingered the patch of metal residing directly above the space below where my bellybutton resided with my other free hand as I looked, my bellybutton below that was mottled, puckered, and wholly unlike a normal bellybutton because when Beth and I had met I’d still been with I-Won’t-Say-Their-Name-Because-They’re-An-Asshole and not wearing armour, and Beth, who was not only wearing armour at the time but also going by the name of Arbalist and carrying round a crossbow to keep people at bay, had let loose a bolt in my belly.

“I know you remember,” Beth continued. “With that mottle that used to be a bellybutton you don’t certainly need reminding. But you do seem to need reminding that I used to say, insist even, that I often forgot I was wearing armour or shooting bolts at people. So, I know it isn’t true. I also know what you will know today if today is the day, and that is that it was a load removed when I finally did just that.”

No armour is complete without a weapon and mine was a sword, tucked as snug as a bug in a leather sheaf on my side, unused against other swords or weaponry in the five years I’d carried it- my instinct in any situation that might have required weaponry or sword swinging, which without a doubt was a situation that lay way past the last chance saloon, being to flee as soon as any situation approached I’m-getting-close-to-getting-angry mountain- but used whenever Beth milled my nerves, drawing it from its sheaf and raising it in the air with a ‘Hiyaaaa!’, swinging it aimlessly at any straggler hanging branches that didn’t have the function of hiding us beneath the Intervention Point tree but had the function of getting in the way whenever we tried to walk around.

“Delroy, every week with the slicing and hiyaaas. Stop slicing. Stop Hiyaaing. Look at me. This situation is getting silly enough for the others in town who know you like I know you to think that it’s been way too long now since it happened with I-Won’t-Say-Their-Name-But-They’re-An-Asshole to justify you still wearing armour without it being weird.”

“... others are thinking that?”

"Others are talking about that."

"Are you thinking and talking about that with them?”

“I’ve talked of course, it would've been strange if I’d been around and hadn’t. But what I’ve talked about is beside the point. What the point is really is that more often than not the others who don’t really know you but have seen you around join the others who do really know you when the others who do really know you are talking and comparing you to weird persons such as Mary-Who-Lives-Under-The-Bridge-Even-Though-She-Has-A-Beautiful-House.”

Obscuredly I dropped my jaw but visibly I swung my sword, not at branches or leaves, but in a general circle, my armour making the cartoonish sound of chattering teeth as the many times I’d partook in the talking and making of not very nice comments about Mary-Who-Lives-Under-The-Bridge-Even-Though-She-Has-A-Beautiful-House, usually when Mary had been in hearing distance and just buying a coffee or sandwich to take back under her bridge, ran through my head alongside the still but familiar image of Mary- who’d forsaken clothes along with her beautiful house and so stood naked and exposed to the world because, as she shrugged answeringly when questioned, ‘What have you got to hide under a bridge?’- smiling at all the talking and not very nice comments and tipping an imaginary bowler hat to those of us that had made them, her body language clearly signalling the start of a sauntering off that would certainly be done with the fantabulous energy of a potato that knows the pot is a waiting but also that it has at least five damn minutes left to live like a potato with nothing to lose. I knew I wouldn't be able to take the hearing of any not very nice comments quite as in my stride- which even before the armour had been the self-conscious stride of a newly legged trout- as she, and that my armour would soon resemble a flaky painting of a muddy sunset from all the salty tears I would shed within it, salty tears that would be shed regardless even of hearing as just knowing comments were being made was scary enough to induce moisture, that knowing made doubly scary- you know double scariness? That feeling when you’re in an old easily broken down car on a dark night in a dark wood and that car has done its dues and broken down just when a fog as thick as a curious French brie is settling on the surrounding dark trees and just when a shadow darker than the rest of the shadowy darkness moves in the same surrounding trees in a lurching manner so that not only does the frightful fog settling afear you but the lurching shadow does as well- by also knowing that to stop the comments I’d have to cast my precaution to the wind and invite all the hurt and pain of all the hurt and pain varieties to have free rein over my fragile body.

“I’m nothing like Mary-Who-Lives-Under-The-Bridge-Even-Though-She-Has-A-Beautiful-House,” I cried as Mary crawled beneath my general sword swing to grab my gauntlets and stop them sword swinging in general. “I don’t live under a bridge though I have a delightful converted four-bed warehouse home to go to or go about laughing at those who want some protection with her exposed belly and shoulders which by being exposed say me? Need protection? Pishaw that stuffs for wimps. She doesn’t and has never engaged in the making of not very nice comments or talking, but I have and do! I engage with talking and commenting whenever I’m allowed or around. I’m completely normal if you do what I do and forget I’m wearing armour.”

“It isn’t just engaging with talking and the making of comments that make you normal, Delroy, it’s being like the rest of us and you can’t be like the rest of us because you don’t look like the rest of us. You’re a walking talking suit of armour and nobody, not even you so don’t lie, can forget that.” Beth paused here before saying something further with the out-of-the-side-of-the-mouth whispering of a war photographer perpetually puffing on their wartime smoking pipe and asking photographic permission without wanting the asking of photographic permission to be heard. “Sometimes when all the others are talking and commenting not very nice things and I’m there too Mary-Who-Lives-Under-The-Bridge-Even-Though-She-Has-A-Beautiful-House isn’t even mentioned, sometimes she’s skipped over and they go straight to comparing you to Mark-Who-Believes-He’s-A-Nuclear-Bomb-And-That-Only-By-Kissing-The-Most-Handsome-Men-On-The-Mouths-In-A-Surprise-Kiss-Attack-Will-He-Save-The-World-By-Not-Going-Off.”

Mark-Who-Believes-He’s-A-Nuclear-Bomb-And-That-Only-By-Kissing-The-Most-Handsome-Men-On-The-Mouths-In-A-Surprise-Kiss-Attack-Will-He-Save-The-World-By-Not-Going-Off was the worst person to be compared to if you wanted to wear armour but for everyone to treat you normally- him being the epitome of social avoidance, there often being town meetings that I often went to all about how we could convince him there was nobody left to prevent him going off, plans such as all of us collectively leaving the town for several days, leaving him having to wander so far in search of handsome men to sneak kisses on that he would eventually wander right into a different town or city- and, upon hearing the comparison had been done, I did what life calls everybody who wears armour to do at some point after being cornered by those wishing them to take it off, become defensive and attack those doing the cornering, pulling my gauntlets from the grasp to point a finger at Beth’s face.

“You were wearing armour and shooting bolts for over two years at least after being hurt and not once were you compared Mary-Who-Lives-Under-The-Bridge-Even-Though-She-Has-A-Beautiful-House or Mark-Who-Believes-He’s-A-Nuclear-Bomb-And-That-Only-By-Kissing-The-Most-Handsome-Men-On-The-Mouths-In-A-Surprise-Kiss-Attack-Will-He-Save-The-World-By-Not-Going-Off. Not once. So I’m starting that maybe nobody in town is saying this. I’m starting to think that maybe I should start thinking that it's maybe just you who’s saying this and that you’re simply saying it because you want me to take it off so you can steal it for yourself.”

My attacking voice, which had been used barely once a year since I was four and which had certainly never been used on my friend, made Beth flinch like a love-lorn leviathan coming upon their love entangled with another and reach almost instinctively for her handbag- which like most bags, or personal objects of concealment in the town, held a small portion of armour for those moments in life when protection really is required, her small piece being in fact not that small and in fact being the quite large crossbow from her Arbalist days- her face turning tomato as her temper, which as mentioned before was a large angry dog held in the garden only by a threadbare lead that could be snapped at the dropping of a hat if the hat that dropped happened to drop on that lead, was let loose. Beth, who had always taken great care in not losing her temper with me because she was a sweetheart and knew that even before my armour I could only take so much shouting and that after I’d donned it could take even less, forgot her care, barked while slobbering like an Igor impersonating a dog, and jumped on my breastplate, denting the plate covering my breast and pushing me backwards so that I fell, also backwards, and rolled on the floor with the elegance of a mechanical elephant whose trunk has taken it upon itself to both trip it and lasso its legs together midfall- that is with a great clanging and a Damn-I-Have-A-Tripwire/Lasso-Rather-Than-A-Trunk type roar, picture a metal bin making love to waste compressor and you’ll get the sound- right out of Intervention Point and back into the park, but not stopping there, going further with the roll, Beth still on top of me and rolling too to make it so we were both a part of the most aggressive roly-poly the world had ever seen.

We roly-polypunched right into the Fighting Point- earmarked as that by Beth and I years before with it’ll-never-happen-but-just-in-case deep bellied chuckles- that, rather than a peaceful circular space hidden beneath a tree, was a deep dark pit resembling the bear fighting pits of bygone years when pits were still dug to accommodate such things as bear fights, so close to the edge of the park you could, if you were inclined, theoretically say that where the pit sat wasn’t park at all but the town and was only still considered park because some trees shaded it, though a large clothing store did too, and because it had a dirt floor that was not soft but hard enough to take both Beth’s and my own breath away. So that for several moments after we roly-polypunched alllllllllll the way down to the bottom of it, we were entirely breathless, held close by the dirt that'd taken our breath and desperately sought more, its soughting being unfruitful for the several moments we lay in its arms, gasping with the quiet desperation of mushrooms with mouths but no respiratory system, these several moments prefacing further several moments during which all members of the town in seeable and hearable distance came to look down into the pit and watch us abruptly evolve into mushrooms with lungs, air flooding back as Beth and I crawled away each other and stood, me drawing my sword on my friend and her drawing her crossbow on hers.

“Look, it’s Delroy. Urgh, and still armoured from head to toe…” the town members said while gathered as they were around the lip of the pit, their voices loud and echoing down to my ears. “…he’s definitely more unusual then Mary-Who-Lives-Under-The-Bridge-Even-Though-She-Has-A-Beautiful-House now… equal I’d say to Mark-Who-Believes-He’s-A-Nuclear-Bomb-And-That-Only-By-Kissing-The-Most-Handsome-Men-On-The-Mouths-In-A-Surprise-Kiss-Attack-Will-He-Save-The-World-By-Not-Going-Off…worse? No that’s too much… could get there… definitely getting there… I for one say he's arrived at his destination... look at all that protection… how obscene and strange… been way too long since it happened… it makes me feel like the small piece I carry for just in case isn’t enough… a small piece is more than enough… it’s Delroy who's overprepared… he's not a knight.... weirdo… freak… GET HIM BETH.”

Hearing that talk and not very nice comments really were being made about me not having removed my protection or yet got over the solidified ball of acidic pain slowly corroding my heart that I-Won’t-Say-Their-Name-But-They’re-An-Asshole had planted made my anger towards Beth fade but seemingly did the opposite to her as she let out a shriek and a bolt as soon as the suggestion she get me was given, so quickly that I barely parried the zooming bolt away, leaving it stuck, quivering, in the dirt side of the pit. You’d think it was but it wasn’t the loosening of the bolt that brightened my anger again, rather it was the appearance, sudden and as light as the light of the Lord when they said with a snapping that light should be let, of I-Won’t-Say-Their-Name-But-They’re-An-Asshole leaning with the other town-folk over the lip of the pit, looking with the satisfaction of a serial whistler doing their serial duty at my armour, and shouting, ‘YEAH, GET HIM BETH,’ that made that anger rise right back up and make me return something for the loosening of the bolt- that return being a short sprint followed by a short swing.

“Five years of my life, Delroy, five of them,” Beth, who just managed to dodge that short swing with the agility of a particularly dexterous dolphin or someone not wearing full metal body armour, snarled. “1, 2, 3, 4, 5. All of them spent being your friend, interventioning, only occasionally when I really wanted to do it more joining in with the talking and not very nice comment making about you, and you accuse me of simply wanting your armour? J’accuse! Auf der hut!”

Here Beth did a fashionable roll I suspected was just for the watchers, who supportively let out a cheer to let her know they still were, while simultaneously re-loading, sending another bolt my way as soon as she rightened in such a smooth combative transition that I failed to notice a bolt had been loaded and released until that released bolt went clean through my armour, missing my flesh by somehow finding a gap between my shoulder and the shoulder of my casing but causing a hole that curious air swiftly flowed through to explore nonetheless.

“Look at you, Beth, clutching a crossbow, AKA a piece of armour. Oh hypocrisy, come and lap from my frigid breast for your mother lies milkless before me!”

“Look up and then also look around, Delroy. Look at the people, your township, they’re all, ALL, clutching pieces of armour. Ipso facto there’s nothing wrong with a little clutch every now and then, to feel safe.”

“But if there’s nothing wrong with a clutch now and then, why is there something wrong with a clad?”

“Because no one else is clad! Why should you be that safe? No one else is, no one else even wants to be except for directly and then for a reasonable amount of time after being severely hurt. Being that safe this long after being hurt is weird, not to mention unhealthy.”

Here my temper- which had already flared up by the sight and sound of I-Won’t-Say-Their-Name-But-They’re-An-Asshole looking smug and cheering Beth on, and been made worse by the amount of air flowing into my armour through the hole, which was too much air to merely be rejuvenating and was actually rather exposing- flared even more and aided my speed of attack to no end, so that with a dart and a dash I burst toward Beth, the sound effects of SHING! And TING! being the ones my blade let out as I blocked two bolts somehow sent my dashing way before a KACHING! rollicked out as my sword, which had been falling with an executioner's precision towards the crook of Beth’s ostrich neck, came in contact instead with the side of her crossbow, raised just in time to block me.

‘PHUT, PFFT,’ were the bullish snorts falling with white puffs of hot air down into the Fighting Point, echoing around to make things feel Caligulian as Beth and I freely traded blows, the sun, which didn’t dare shine into the pit though it illuminated the town in a picturesque glow metres away, illuminated also the folk doing the snorting, highlighting the moment Mary-Who-Lives-Under-The-Bridge-Even-Though-She-Has-A-Beautiful-House, breasts and chin thrust proudly up to the sky in her pride at not needing protection at all, oil and other living-under-a-bridge liquids smeared on her flesh, joined them along with Mark-Who-Believes-He’s-A-Nuclear-Bomb-And-That-Only-By-Kissing-The-Most-Handsome-Men-On-The-Mouths-In-A-Surprise-Kiss-Attack-Will-He-Save-The-World-By-Not-Going-Off- slyly kissing all the men he could on their mouths as he crept along- neither of them joining in with the cheering but watching all the same, Beth tipping her invisible hat at the sky as if saying she’d never cared about the not very nice comments being made about her but that my word was it nice to stand in a big ol’ crowd and not have them be about her.

“Be a good girl and hit him harder, Beth,” howled the familiar voice of my mother, who had never approved of my armour even when it’d only been a week after what happened with I-Won’t-Say-Their-Name-But-They’re-An-Asshole, and who shoved her way to the very lip of the pit to wave her walking stick in the air in the erratic fashion of a conductor conducting not a symphony but a mass spanking of not just the ass but the whole body of me. “Hit that bleedin’ armour right off him.”

The sound of my mom’s voice, familiar and oh so supportive, spurred Beth on, and with a duck only the truly supported can manage, she lowered her knees and dodged my next swing completely, the weight of said swing not encountering any opposition at all dragging me in a half circle that got my boots tangled tantalisingly, for Beth anyway, and left me wide open for the bolt that suddenly entered my armour at thigh height, going through it and said thigh with the cleanliness of a dentist’s dogs dentures and making me fall, arms jellyfish wiggling as I did so that quite by accident my blade nicked the knee of Beth, the tip digging in and then digging out a portion of flesh, eliciting a swearing from her as she also fell that would make a kakologophobic kooky.

“Shit, shit, shit, twat, my fucking knee, Delroy, you cunt. You’ve taken a fucking chunk out of it.”

“Ohh,” I moaned, my voice doing a breaking, a snapping, like that of a twig person in gloom, loud enough for the watchers high above to all hear, letting me know they'd heard by laughing loudly, and for Beth, much closer, to hear as well, her eyes widening. “Ohhhhhh I'm hurt. I'm not safe, I'm hurt.”

It happened as my arms wrapped around my leg, as if by swaddling it I could revert it to its unhurt childhood, and as I began to rock back and forth on the hard dirt below, tears dripping from my eyes and making the soft cymbal sounds of gentle rain on a tin roof as the droplets formed arms and drummed on and pooled in my helmet, in a flash it happened, the end of the fight. Because while Beth lost her temper easily, a fact that could easily be carved into the side of the town’s little mount rushmore if the town had such a thing and not be disputed by anyone or anything who knew her, it was also a fact that Beth found her temper in whatever enclave or grove it’d been tossed in just as soon as tears of any kind made their way into a situation, those watery incentives quickly drowning her anger in a puddle of themselves before making it bob to the surface as a severely sorry corpse. At the sight of my tears and the hearing of my broken voice, Beth did as she did, calmed, and crawled, as well as someone with a chunk missing from their knee could, to me, stroking the beak of my helmet- which I don’t think I’ve mentioned was of the armet variety and so had a pointy metal growth stretching out from where my nose was, and which was what Beth often affectionately, but usually mockingly, called a beak. The sight of the stroking of me, a weirdo, by a Beth, who was still considered one of them and normal, did not please the watching town folk, who jostled with anger as they watched, at all, as they knew that if one of them was willing to do a stroking, all of them would have to be willing and to prevent having to be willing to do that, the watchers instead began considering that maybe it wasn’t just me who was weird and not one of them but maybe Beth as well, because let’s not forget, they murmured loudly from above, she’d also worn full armour after being hurt, for two years as well, which wasn't that long but was still a period of time that passed in which armour was worn and that maybe two years was just long enough for the wearer to be considered weird even if the armour was no longer around, and that, maybe, if they formed a hoard and spilt over the lip of the pit towards Beth and me, they could, maybe, make the Fighting Point worth its name again, and even rename it, if they could, as Victorious-Point-Where-The-Armour-Was-Finally-Removed-And-Delroy-And-Maybe-Beth-Too-Were-Made-To-Realise-How-Weird-They-Are-And-Banished-From-Town.

“Beth, we hate to say it, but we’re starting to think that maybe you’re an oddball and a weirdo too. We’re starting to think that you don’t really belong with the rest of us and so should be treated like Delroy,” was the prevailing thought process of the town, who had the kindness to also chant it out loud so I'd know it, and once knowing it could disagree completely with the way they were turning on someone who’d interventioned me every Sunday just to get me back in with them and who’d warned me of their growing lack of patience with me and my armour.

“Beth,” I whispered, tapping her shoulder. “Get off me, get away. You aren't a weirdo, you're lovely and don't deserve that label. Go up to them, I'll stay down here. Maybe they'll leave me alone then. Surely they can't be mad about my armour if I also live in a pit.”

Beth didn't say anything in reply, simply stopped stroking my beak to look at me, balls meeting slit, those balls moistening as she assuredly felt what I felt in that moment, which was the feeling of being a baby goose being cradled in the warm crotch of a friendly giant who took goose babies in and loved them endlessly, our mouths suddenly revving the throttle and playing the roles in a major motion picture of two siblings coming together after struggling out of heaven and hell respectively to meet each other in the middle, apologies spilling out simultaneously so it was as if our voices were trains racing to get through a single tunnel.

“I should never have cut a chunk from your knee.”

“I should never have joined in with comparing you to Mary-Who-Lives-Under-The-Bridge-Even-Though-She-Has-A-Beautiful-House.”

“I should never have called you hypocrisy’s mother.”

“I also should never have told you about the Mark-Who-Believes-He’s-A-Nuclear-Bomb-And-That-Only-By-Kissing-The-Most-Handsome-Men-On-The-Mouths-In-A-Surprise-Kiss-Attack-Will-He-Save-The-World-By-Not-Going-Off comparison.”

“I should never have let us roly-polypunch into the Fighting Point and more should be able to say I-Won’t-Say-Their-Name-But-They’re-An-Asshole’s name and you should be able to too. They don’t deserve us not saying their name.”

“They deserve more. They deserve for their name to be legally changed to Asshole-Who-Hurts-People-Enough-To-Not-Be Called-Anything-Other-Than-Asshole. Just Asshole for short.”

The town folk who’d been ready to form a hoard, had all frozen in their forming at the outburst of our emotion and hadn't yet unfrozen by the time we got to the point in the major motion picture when the two siblings collide in the middle, sparks and flashes abound, the familiar smell of their mother's vegetable patties filling the air, reminding them of their childhood and causing them to fall into each other's arms and hug away all the mistakes they'd made to have gone to a different afterlife than the other, hugging the paradise and the torture from each other's bodies, the force of Beth's flesh on my armour as we enacted this giving me the courage to do something I hadn't dared to do in four years, pointing up over her shoulder.

“Hey, Asshole”, I called, receiving the recipient of my call’s eyes on my visor at the calling, their eyes that were no longer smug but sightly averted, shamed- the eyes of a hurricane with barely any wind left revisiting a place it had ruthlessly hurricaned in the days of when it’d been full of wind. “Yeah, Asshole. You look, that’s your name now, and don’t you forget it. If I hear you say differently, remember I have a sword.”

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