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lia-jones · 3 years

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Growing Together - Chapter Twenty-Seven - Footsteps

Before you start:

This work is unbeta'd and English is not my first language. I apologize in advance for any mistakes you may find.

Victor sighed in relief as he placed his keys on the plate in the hallway, finally finding himself at home after a terrible day at work. It had been meeting after meeting, barely having time for lunch, his phone ringing off the hook, numerous emails waiting for him when he dared to look at his inbox.

To add insult to injury, his day wasn't exactly over. Victor couldn't wait to lie on his sofa and simply enjoy the evening nursing a glass of brandy with his wife in his arms, but he would have to spend it on his study instead, all alone, to attend a conference call with the team in Paris, who was in a different timezone.

His bad mood was somewhat eased with the aroma of delicious food being cooked, his heart taking solace in the sound of his wife and son's voices bantering in the kitchen. At least he was finally home, he comforted himself. For the time being, he would indulge in a hot relaxing shower and a nice dinner with his family.

Owen was always the first to notice when Victor or Andrea arrived, and as usual, he was the first to greet him, running to his arms. Although Victor had been feeling back pain pretty much all day, a customary symptom when he was overly stressed, such was immediately forgotten the moment he had his son in his arms. With heartfelt laughter, Victor threw the boy in the air, having him land safely in his arms with a very tight hug. And just like magic, Victor immediately felt better. His family was all he needed to recover from that awful day and get back on his feet to face another battle.

"What is your mother up to?" Victor asked, playfully disheveling the boy's red curls.

"She's in the kitchen, making dinner. I helped." He beamed at his father. "It's Mom's special fish and shrimp stew."

Bouillabaise, one of his favorites. Comfort food was exactly what he needed. Putting the boy down, Victor moved to the kitchen to find his wife minding the large pot on the stove. He hugged her from behind, his chin leaning on the top of her head.

"Hello, handsome." She turned her head to look at him.

"Hmm." He groaned, burying his face in the nape of her neck, taking comfort in her scent and the softness of her skin.

"Long day?" She reached back to run her fingers through his hair, slightly scratching his scalp, making Victor almost purr in delight.

"Hmmmm." He moaned, too entertained with how she was making him feel to form a proper answer.

"You’re tense." She declared as she reached back to feel his shoulders.

"Just a little tired." His arms circled her waist, as she turned to him.

"Dinner will be ready in 10." She spoke while she continued to work on the knots of his shoulders. "Get yourself out of that suit and have a shower. We got it covered here."

She playfully hit him in the chest, pushing him away from her. As revenge, Victor stole a kiss, a soft sweet kiss that made her sigh when he broke it. Feeling smug with her reaction, he left Andrea to her own devices, heading for the bedroom. A steamy shower definitely sounded very good. Despite Andy's massage, his shoulders still felt sore.

"Owen has some news for us today." His wife declared at the dinner table, winking at their son.

"Let's hear it." Victor lifted his eyes to his son, giving him his undivided attention.

"Next week it will be Career Day at my school." Owen said, excited. "They want us to bring one of our parents to class for Show and Tell, to explain to our classmates what they do for a job."

"What an excellent initiative." Victor nodded in approval, reaching for his glass of wine. "You could ask your mother, she will have a lot to talk about, between her study and LCG."

Owen didn't reply, looking down instead.

"I'm not the only option on the table here." His wife intervened. "You could go."

"Nonsense, you are clearly the best option." Victor retorted. "You could bring the GESA award to show the kids, talk about the study, your work at LCG, how your ideas may change the economy as we know it. Besides, you are practically their size. I bet they will find that both amusing and inspiring." He teased.

His wife was glaring at him, probably not happy with his witty remark.

"I think your mother should go, Owen." Victor concluded, trying to diffuse the tension his joke caused. "I'm sure she will do an excellent job."

"Would you mind coming, Mom?" Owen mumbled, looking down.

"Of course I wouldn't, Bug. It will be my pleasure." She caressed the boy's hair lovingly, a hint of sadness in her smile.

Victor watched both of them, somewhat intrigued. Why were both so morose? Weren't they happy with his suggestion?

"May I be excused?" Owen placed his napkin on the table. "I need to feed my ants."

"You may." Victor smiled. "By the way, how is the colony going?"

"Well." Owen left the kitchen without any other word.

Victor furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. When it came to his ant colony, Owen was usually a lot more talkative.

"What's the matter with him?" He almost whispered to his wife. "Did something else happen at school?"

"You are a clueless idiot." Andrea threw at him, irritated.

"What!? Why? What did I do?"

"Don't you think that if he wanted me to go, he would have asked me already?" She scolded him. "He wanted to invite you, and you shot him down before he had a chance."

"Me? You are obviously the best choice, why would he want me?"

"Because you are his father, you big moron!" She almost yelled, carefully adjusting her tone after. "Look, you are his father figure, his male example, the one that he looks up to. He never really had anything like that before. This is important for him, he finally has a father he can be proud of. Basically, he wants to show you off to his friends. God only knows why, you’re an idiot in a suit."

For a brief moment, Victor recalled the moment he sought out for his father's attention and approval, only to be met with closed doors and reprimands on how children shouldn’t waste an adult's time with trivialities. He remembered how much it hurt him to be ignored, to not be important, to be treated like a nuisance. Victor refused to let his son go through the same thing, but most importantly, he refused to be the one making Owen feel like that.

"I see."

"Finally. Now go fix it." She urged.

He found the boy sitting with his legs crossed on the floor, staring absentmindedly at his ant farm. He could see himself at that very same age, and almost guess what was going through his son's mind. Owen was probably blaming himself for not being interesting enough, trying to find a way to make his father notice him.

Victor sat silently on the bed, waiting for Owen to acknowledge his presence. The boy looked at him with sad brown eyes, deep and dark, making the freckles on his nose stand out.

"Is it bedtime yet?" Owen asked, getting up from the floor.

"No, I just wanted to have a word with you."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Do we only talk when you're in trouble?" Victor couldn't help but feel slightly offended. "Sit beside me."

Owen obeyed, sitting next to his father, an expectant look on his face. Victor took a moment to think about how he would approach the subject. He couldn't tell the boy about the conversation he just had with his mother.

"Maybe we made a hasty decision regarding who is coming to Career Day."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I did say your mother was the best choice. However, after careful consideration, I think I may be a very interesting choice as well. I mean, I know most of your friends from playing soccer in the park, I'm fairly popular already. One could even say I'm... cool."

"You want to go?"

"That is for you to decide. But I would be honored if you’d take me."

"I was going to ask you." Owen confessed. "I even asked Mom if that would hurt her feelings, and she said she would be happy if I chose you."

"Why didn't you say so, then?"

"Because I know you are very busy, especially now that you are opening that new business in France. I overheard Mom scolding you the other day for not getting enough sleep. I thought you were saying Mom could go because you were too tired. And if you are too tired, it's selfish of me to ask."

Victor smiled at the little boy as he pulled him into his lap. He was barely five, and he could be so considerate. He playfully poked his little freckled nose.

"Even if that was the case, even if I was too tired, I would still go. You know why?"

The boy shook his head.

"Because I love you." Victor replied in a soft voice. "You are my son, and there is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Small arms wrapped around Victor's neck in a tight hug. And the sweetest voice spoke the sweetest words.

"I love you too, Dad. Thank you for doing this, it will be so cool!” He jumped excitedly. “I can already imagine what my classmates will say about the cool things you do at work! Do you know what you will bring to your presentation? Megan's father is a trainer at the zoo, she says he may bring a parrot!"

Victor's stomach turned cold. Only at that moment did he realize what he truly agreed on.

The task sounded fairly simple: to explain his job to a room full of five-year-olds. It turned out, it was a lot harder than he expected.

His job entailed many complicated concepts, like risk assessment and profit analysis, and had big words like enterprise value, equity, and horizontal integration. Those things were already hard enough to explain to a child, but worse than that, they were boring. He had to make his job look interesting, and although it would be fairly easy to seduce an adult by showing profit, children didn't respond to money. He had to make it entertaining, and simple. Yet, he had no idea how. Nothing about his job would seem entertaining to a child.

But then one day, while running, he recalled his Economics teacher’s words from one of his lectures: Economy has existed since primitive times, where things were much simpler, and an economic transaction meant trading meat for animal skin or a cutting tool. The act of trading baseball cards during recess could be considered an economic transaction. To explain it, he would just have to trade the fancy terms for things children could relate to.

Finally, he had a plan. A good one. That didn't mean he wasn't nervous.

“Do you want to call Mom and tell her to come instead?” The boy asked from the backseat as they were driving to school.

“What? No, I’m fine.” Victor gripped the wheel tighter, trying to steady himself.

“Are you sure?” Victor saw his boy frown from the rearview mirror. “You look like you have a tummy ache.”

Did he? He immediately relaxed his face, trying to remain expressionless.

“Mom told me you would be like this.” Owen smiled with a knowing look. “She told me to tell you that you just need to use the charm you used on her.”

Yes, Victor could do that, he had some good moments with Andrea. Well, apart from the interview, and when her car broke down, with the heavy rain and... nipples. And being so embarrassed he could barely speak. The memory only made him more nervous.

He marched bravely into school with a box full of containers with cherries and a bag full of lollipops. Owen was exhilarated to have his father with him, jumping happily in the halls, showing him every piece of art he had made that was on display. Victor, on the other hand, was sweating from nervousness, hoping the AC in Owen's classroom was freezing cold. The teacher jumped on the spot when she saw him.

“Mr. Lee?” She came to him hurriedly, looking puzzled when she saw Victor place the containers in one of the empty desks. “The Principal didn’t tell me you were visiting. By the way, where is he? Are you here unattended? Is this about a fund or something? How can I help you?”

“I’m here for Career Day. We still haven’t had the pleasure to meet.” Victor extended his hand to the teacher. “I’m Victor Lee, Owen’s father.”

“Owen, you didn’t tell me your father was Victor Lee!” She looked down on the boy, flushed.

“I told you my father was a CEO.” Owen quipped, frowning slightly.

“Well, still, how would I know it was Victor Lee?”

“My name is Owen Lee.”

The teacher fanned herself, eyeing Victor with a weird smile.

“Mr. Lee, I know that our installations aren’t quite what you are used to, but I hope you do feel welcome.”

“I’m sure they will do perfectly, thank you.”

Victor was wrong. The chairs were too small for an adult, especially one of his stature. However, standing up was also not an option, as he would be beside Owen and he would block the view, so he had no choice but to sit on the tiny chair, with his legs awkwardly crossed, looking like an idiot.

Megan's father was the first, and he did bring the parrot, making him do all kinds of tricks. The children and the teacher laughed at the animal's shenanigans, and Victor couldn't help but feel disheartened, knowing this presentation would be very hard to top.

Then came Caleb's mother, who was a physician. She taught the kids the many functions of the main organs in the human body, bringing with her a kidney in a jar. The class was rowdy as they passed the jar around, amazed to be able to see a real kidney, like the ones they had in their very small bodies.

"Next we have Owen's father, Mr. Lee, a very successful entrepreneur in Loveland. He will talk about his job as a CEO of an investment company." The teacher announced.

Victor faced the twenty children in front of him, who were looking at him with wide eyes, waiting for him to start. In almost 15 years of being a CEO, he had attended important meetings with notorious businessmen, oil tycoons, rulers and politicians. He had dinner meetings with the mafia and other shady characters, people that held incredible power and precious information, but could also kill him without a second thought.

He could conclude, without a shadow of a doubt, that children were scarier.

For a second he wished he could be like Andrea. She would know what to do. She would probably greet the children with a goofy gesture, making them all laugh. She was fun and witty, she knew what children liked. Victor paused, remembering his wife’s words through his son’s mouth. He could be funny too, he always made her laugh, it had become one of his favorite hobbies. Maybe she was right. Maybe he could do this. With a new sense of confidence, and with a side note to thank his wife for her encouraging words, Victor approached his audience.

“Good afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen.” He started, ceremoniously. “First of all, I would like to thank you for your time and attention, and the honor of your invitation. My name is Victor Lee, and I’m the CEO of Loveland Financial Group.”

Encouraged by their teacher, all the children applauded.

“Before I begin to explain exactly what I do, let me start with a question. Who knows what an investor does?”

All the children were quiet until a little girl spoke.

“Is it someone who goes to the market and screams ‘Buy! Buy!’ and ‘Sell! Sell!’?

“You mean the stock market?” Victor chuckled. “Yes, it can be, although there are many kinds of investments. At LFG, what we do is help companies grow by lending them money, which they pay us, but with interest. Does anyone know what interest is?”

Many kids raised their hands.

“Is it when things aren’t boring? Like, they are interesting?”

“Ha. No.” Victor forgot that the words would have a different meaning to five-year-olds. “For example, someone asks LFG for ten dollars. The company lends it but asks in return for eleven dollars. That extra dollar is the interest.”

“That’s not very nice.” A freckled boy raised his hand. “Sharing is caring.”

Victor felt himself blush slightly. The boy had made a perfectly logical remark that unfortunately didn’t fit in the financial world. And he didn’t have the faintest clue on how he could explain it better.

“It is nice, because my dad doesn’t just give the money. My mom and dad work with the companies to help them grow, and they get to keep the tools she gives them forever. My dad gives them the money and asks for more because he also helps them get better.” Owen chimed in, basically saving him. Although it wasn’t exactly accurate, it wasn’t wrong either. Victor couldn’t be more proud.

“That is correct and beautifully worded, Owen, thank you.” He smiled at his boy. “Now, to fully understand the kind of work that a CEO of an investment company does, I would like to invite you all to be, for ten minutes, CEOs.” He ceremoniously declared. “Owen, could you help distribute the boxes and the candy to your friends?”

Owen quickly obliged, and in a moment, all the kids had with them a box of cherries and a lollipop.

“Ok, imagine you are the CEO of an investment company-”

“What is the company called?” The freckled boy asked again. Victor suppressed a sigh of exasperation.

“Whatever you want to call it. It’s your company.”

“Can I call it Unicorn?” A little girl raised her hand.

“Yes, you can. Now…”

“Can I call it Wayne Enterprises? Do you think I could be Batman?”

Victor’s memory took another trip down memory lane, to the day his wife blackmailed him into making that ridiculous Batman recording. He felt his cheeks getting slightly warmer. Luckily, the teacher intervened.

“Alright class, it’s nice to see you this excited but we need to let Mr. Lee speak, alright?”

“Thank you. So, as I was saying, imagine you are in a meeting, as CEOs, and two different companies are asking for investment: a lollipop factory and an orchard that grows cherries. You can pick only one. Which one would you pick? Place your hand on your choice.”

Every single child, except for one, held their lollipops. He turned to the girl that picked the cherries.

“Interesting choice. Why would you invest in the cherry producer?”

“Because I want to invest in a company that makes a lot of money. Cherries are more expensive than lollipops.”

Victor smiled at her insightfulness. She was probably a CEO in the making.

“True, but cherries only grow in the spring, that’s why they are more expensive. The candy factory can make lollipops all year.” He retorted. “You still think the orchard makes more money than the candy factory?”

“Yes, because my mom will let me have cherries but won’t buy me candy.” A boy chimed in, and other children agreed.

“Demand, very good, we need to see what sells best. What else would you use to make a decision?” Victor was excited, watching the proverbial wheels turn in their little heads. “What does it take to produce each of the products?”

“You need a factory to make lollipops. In an orchard, you just need to water the trees.”

“Very well, and you need sugar, and flavors and other ingredients, while in the cherries’ case, is given for free by nature. So, have we decided on the orchard?”

“Yes!” They screamed in unison.

“Seems like we have a unanimous decision. And for the record, what we just did here is a very simplistic version of a risk assessment, a study every investor needs to make to know if the investment is worthwhile. Of course, there are other things I do as a CEO, but I can’t possibly describe them in such a short time.” He paused for a moment, all the children’s eyes on him. “Does anyone have any questions before we finish?”

“Are all CEOs men?” A girl asked from the back.

“Of course not. Women can be CEOs too, my wife is a CEO from a different company. And if you ask me, she’s more successful than I am.” He made a silly face, and all the children laughed.

He couldn’t believe it was going so well.

“Anything else?”

“My father says businessmen are dicks in a suit.” A boy declared, while his father looked like he was close to infarction.

“Timothy!” The teacher chastised.

“Well, I can tell you that can definitely be true in some cases.” Victor spoke wholeheartedly. “In any area, you can find good and bad professionals. But let me tell you all about the three qualities I feel a good CEO should have.” Victor raised his hand, lifting his fingers as he spoke. “Intelligence, resilience, and responsibility. Intelligence because we need to know where we stand at all times and make quick decisions, and they better be the right ones, or else we can lose our business. Resilience because the financial world is a fluctuating one, and everything may change in a blink of an eye. We must be resilient enough to embrace the change, and make it work in our favor. And lastly, responsibility, because as we invest, we are not only dealing with our money or a faceless company. We can change the world with our choices, allowing technology, health, and education to evolve so there is improvement in everyone’s lives. I personally invest only in companies where employees are treated with fairness, and environmental rules are respected. We need to put the power we hold to good use and make this world a better place. If we all understand the smallest of our actions can impact the world tremendously, I’m sure miracles will happen.”

“Well, that was brilliantly said.” The teacher cleared her throat, starting to clap. “A big applause to Mr. Lee, thank you for being with us today.”

Victor returned to the car with a smug smile on his face, and a sense of accomplishment he hadn’t felt in a very long time. He had done well, he had honored his son and made him happy. However, as he started the car to leave, he saw his son through the rearview mirror, lost in thought.

“Everything ok back there?” He frowned at the mirror. “Is there something upsetting you?”

“No, I’m ok.” The boy looked up.

“You’re happy?”

“Yes.” The boy smiled.

“I think the presentation went well.” Victor started the car. “Your friends seemed to like it.”

“Yes, it was fun! And we had candy and cherries as a snack, none of the other parents brought snacks.”

Victor smirked, adding that point to his mental scoreboard.

“So why the long face?”

Owen seemed to momentaneously return to his thoughts before he answered Victor’s question.

“I don’t think I want to be an entomologist anymore.”

Victor gave his son a knowing smile.

“I knew the parrot would interest you.”

“No, parrots are dumb!” Owen seemed slightly offended. “I want to be a CEO, just like you.”

Victor could remember himself, at the same age, saying the same thing to his father, to get his approval.

“Owen, you can be whatever you want to be. I will still support you, no matter what you decide.”

“Then you’ll teach me?”

Victor smiled widely, his heart filled with pride.

“I will teach you everything I know.” He was about to offer the keys to his kingdom, but then remembered how he refused the same from his father, wanting to make his own path.

The epiphany came suddenly, clearing his vision and the fear he couldn’t shake from his heart: he had traveled a different road from his father in so many ways. He was a present and loving husband, with a healthy relationship with Andrea. And he was a present and loving partner, caring and supporting his son in every step of his life.

And that meant so much more than being a powerful CEO. Those were the footsteps he wanted his son to follow. The ones that led to happiness.

Author's Note: This project has been going for a year now (it started in February 2020) and it won't be over any time soon, so I would like to ask you, as much as possible, for your support, because we still have a very long way to go. So, if you enjoy the work, don't forget to comment and reblog. It gives it traction and enables other people to learn about it, and for me to get more excited about what I do.

#victor mldd #mlqc victor #love and producer fanfic #li zeyan #Growing Pains - Series #growingtogether #victor x oc #dad victor

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blouisparadise · 4 years

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Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love.

Happy reading!

1) Move Out | Explicit | 1525 words

Harry and Louis are moving in together, so they might as well make the most of Harry's apartment.

2) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it.

Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

3) So Good, It's Making Me Drool | Explicit | 3364 words

He kept his back turned to Harry, whispering the few words he knew that would make Harry go absolutely wild. “If I’m only yours, maybe you should take me to bed and teach me who I belong to.”

4) What I Like | Explicit | 4245 words

Note: This fic has mentions of BH.

Harry gets tired of the "older women" jokes and the incessant teasing from Louis.

5) ll Belong To Your Creation | General Audiences | 4349words

Louis had always thought it was impossible to do so. Thankfully, upon doing research he learned that he still can as long as there are no complications throughout the whole pregnancy. He also stumble upon a birth vlog where a mum was able to give birth naturally even after going through c-section with her first and second pregnancy.

6) An Axolotl and the Fake Date | Explicit | 5976 words

Harry runs a stall at a farmers market every weekend and Louis comes by one day with an odd request.

7) Feels So Right | Explicit | 8804 words

The one where Louis is Troy, Harry is Gabriella, and we find out what really happened after karaoke at that ski resort...

8) Giallo! | Mature | 9776 words

Louis was a mess. A stuttery mess of weak knees and grass stains on his fresh linen clothes, his cheeks blooming a natural pink that matched his sunburnt nose. Upon his return from University, his family abandon the bustling city of London to bask in the comfort of their summer villa. With such a property came maintenance, Louis' father hired a strapping young fellow with tanned skin littered with ink and a charming smile aided by dimples in both his cheeks. Between reading, baking and painting, Louis stares at Harry, he couldn't help it. They grow close under the sun of Greece in 1989.

9) Interlude: One Night in March | Explicit | 10671 words

Note: This is a sequel to this fic.

“Said I would, didn’t I?” Harry let his hands roam over Louis’s bare back, his muscles rippling with that same frenetic energy he always had, swirling just beneath the skin, just beneath Harry’s fingers. “May come a time I’ll have to carry you again.”

Cupping the back of his head and burying his fingers in Louis’s hair, he pulled Louis back into another deep kiss, moaned a bit when Louis squeezed his chest again, harder this time, like he wanted the shirt off. But instead he drew his hand down Harry’s side and tugged at the hem, as though to say best keep this on, before he licked into Harry’s mouth, drew Harry’s tongue out to play only to pull back enough to speak.

“May come a time I’ll actually fucking let you.”

10) Hate To Smoke (Without Me) | Mature | 12164 words

Sleep. Harry just wants one good night of sleep. However, his neighbour has a thing for headboard-banging-against-the-wall-sex every night. After a secret set-up and a bet, Harry may finally get the sleep he so much desires.

11) Call You Mine | Explicit | 12755 words

“I have a request.”

That’s what Louis Tomlinson says to Harry when he opens the front door a bit too aggressively. The latter feels justified after a round of annoyingly incessant knocking that was much too loud in the drowsy sludge of early Saturday morning.

“Zayn’s asleep,” is Harry’s tired, hoarse reply, irritation prickling at his skin. Less than a minute ago he was in bed, feeling perfectly content sprawled out on the mattress with the chilled air from the fan cool against his bare skin. And now he’s leaning up against the wooden door frame in nothing but his briefs because Zayn’s best mate decided that showing up unannounced at seven in the fucking morning was a brilliant idea.

“I’m not here for him,” says Louis curtly.

12) A Vivid And Wistful Melody | Explicit | 13128 words

"Slowly, he takes his violin out of its case, listens for a few more minutes to Louis’ flute, before joining him as best as he could. The flute stops for a few seconds, and Harry imagines Louis blinking cutely, taken aback, before huffing with a smile, and starting to play again, on a suddenly far happier tune. Harry closes his eyes as he twirls around the living room, violin in hand and music filling the air. He pictures Louis doing the same in his own flat while being careful as to not step on his cat.

Somehow, even with heavy eyes and tired limbs, this is the happiest Harry has ever felt in years."

In which they are neighbours stuck at home and they happen to start talking through a wall with a piano, a violin, and a flute. They end up writing the soundtrack of their own love story.

13) Until This Blood Runs Cold | Explicit | 13685 words

In a town as small as Louis’, everybody knows everybody and gossip spreads faster than the wildfires that rage on just outside their backdoors in the sweltering heat of summer. When something happens here everyone knows about it within seconds. Neighbors call neighbors and notes are left on doorsteps, old telephone lines ringing until there isn’t a single person who is left in the unknown.

So it’s definitely hot gossip when a vampire moves in across the street from him, the very same one who’s just become Louis’ boss.

14) A Road To Hope | Explicit | 18280 words

Note: There is no explicit smut but its implied BL.

“We’re far from the people and their issues, don’t hold back. Please.”

It’s true. They are far away from anything that could stop them, the middle of nowhere being the safest place on Earth for them to fall in love. The sacred land where sacred love is created. However, Louis is certain that even if they weren’t safe, he wouldn’t resist the sight of Harry, his pleading eyes, his warm skin beneath his touch.

15) Your Eyes Of Blue, Your Kisses Too | Explicit | 21785 words

When they get out onto the streets away from the crowds Niall turns to walk backwards, “So did you get any leads?”

“Well- uh.”

Niall shakes his head, “Too busy kissing that pretty boy onstage, I see. Gonna blow the whole case for a piece of ass?”

16) Thinking About Peaches | Explicit | 23724 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic, which is #18 on this list.

Eight smutty drabbles following the events of bruise you like a peach.

17) Quiet People Have the Loudest Minds | Mature | 38065 words

Broadway shows were one of the few things that could keep Louis’ attention for a full two hours without needing to move about. But not tonight.

The alpha next to him was both infuriating him and practically turning him on at the same time. He needed to leave. The alpha, that is. Louis was staying.

18) Bruise You Like A Peach | Explicit | 40694 words

Note: The sequel to this fic is #16 on this list.

There’s two reasons Harry despises Econ.

The first is that it’s boring as fuck. The second reason is a bit more personal, a bit more focused in a way. As in it’s focused on one specific thing, or in his case, person.

His name is Louis Tomlinson.

19) Falling Out Of Fashion | Explicit | 42123 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.

So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.

Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.

Or could Grimshaw be looking for a new face?

20) Secretly Dating | Mature | 43615 words

Lottie groaned, looming over Louis with a glare. “If we’re late, Mum and Dad will never let Harry see me – ie. see you.”

It was the first time they openly addressed the fact that Harry saw more of Louis than Lottie on their supposed ‘dates.’ He supposed he knew as much, but it still startled him. “You’ve been setting us up!”

Lottie snorted, cocking out her hip and brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Honestly, Harry. You’re so dense. To be fair, it was at Louis’ request.”

Louis’ mouth gaped like a fish as he jumped to standing position, wobbling only slightly. “Don’t sell me out!”

Lottie rolled her eyes. “Come on lovebirds.”

21) You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) | Mature | 95417 words

Harry was in the biggest boy band in the world. He was also one half of the best (or worst, depends on who you ask) kept secret relationship in the music industry.

Now, almost five years on, after One Direction has broken up, and Harry and Louis' relationship has as well, a video threatens to put everything at risk.

One determined Irishman, a massive publicity stunt and two begrudging exes are all it takes to bring One Direction back to life and maybe, just maybe, Harry and Louis' mangled love life too.

22) The Healing Song | Mature | 111851 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis was carrying the large stuffed elephant like it was a baby, it’s trunk hanging over his shoulder and down his back and it’s front legs were resting around his neck, like it was hugging him. Said elephant was a present from Louis’ close friend Steve, who had thought Louis needed something to hug on bad days and had gifted him with a stuffed elephant the size of a one year old.

Steve had been right. Some days Louis did need something to hug, and this elephant was as good as anything.

Louis was having one of the rougher days. The harmonious state of the anxiety free life of a fearless Louis had ended the week after he met with Harry. It ended as abruptly as it had started. It was like pushing a button. Lights out. Almost as if the universe said “You’ve had your fun, crazy one, now go be sick” and slammed the door in his face.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #blp fic recs #monthly fic recs #fic recs #blp #larry

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me-and-your-husband · 4 years

Text

Honey, I’m Home (Part 2)

Summary: After Steve went on the run from the government after the events of civil war, you await the day you can see him and your daughter again. When that day comes, a new hope s found.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Dad!Steve Rogers, Mom!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, bearded steve

Word Count: 2.1k

Part 1

Sam opened the back door of the black Cadillac Escalade for me to take a seat inside. I did so as Bucky took his place in the passenger’s seat. When Sam got in, he started the car, put his seatbelt on, and put the car into drive. We sat in silence for a few moments, before I finally spoke up, the empty noise becoming too much to avoid.

“Where are we going?” I questioned as Sam’s eyes briefly met mine in the rearview mirror. Bucky drew a deep breath and huffed it out.

“After what happened at the airport, we brought Jane to a safehouse in Germany. After everything transpired and Steve broke the rest of the team out of custody, we all became fugitives. We’ve been on the run for the past year and a half,” Bucky clarified.

“Steve and Jane are in another safe house in the Canadian Rockies with the rest of the team that were on his side,” Sam added. I hummed in understanding and turned my face to look out the window.

Soon after, we were boarding a plane, using fake passports, of course. Once the plane successfully took off, Bucky put on a set of headphones and Sam nodded off. I noticed a small pad of paper and a pen in the seat pouch in front of me, and so I took it out and began sketching. My hand danced around the rough paper, crossing over lines and margins. I sketched from memory, and from what I remembered my daughter to look like.

I stared down at the completed sketch, coming out quite like the way I remembered three-year-old Jane. It was not as smooth and professional as Steve’s sketches, but you could still be impressed by it. My eyes started to fill with tears, the realization finally hitting me like a tsunami hits a small island.

I was finally going to see my family. After all this waiting, suffering, I was finally going to run my fingers through my daughter’s hair and tell her it was going to be alright. I was finally going to kiss my husband goodnight after a day of playing games at the beach and having a family picnic. I was finally going to have back the life that I missed so dearly.

I let a few tears make their way down my cheeks, before wiping them discreetly with the back of my hand. I looked to my right to see Bucky slipping his headphones off, a loft jazz tune revealing what he was listening to. Steve listened to the same type of music. It reminded him of a time when things were not so complicated.

“She looks almost identical to you, now,” Bucky said, staring down at the drawing on my lap. “She still has Steve’s blue eyes and blonde hair, but if not those then she would be your twin,” Bucky said as a smile crept onto my face, just imagining her. My five-year -old girl. My five-year-old girl. So much time has passed.

I sit in silence and can’t help but wonder to myself the worst. What if she doesn’t remember me? She will. She has to, right? I’m her mother, there’s some type of bond there where you just, know, right?

My overthinking is interrupted by the flight attendant letting us know we’re landing over the intercom.

When we land, I get out and am immediately glad I decided to wear a jacket. I never really believed people when they said that Canada was that cold, until now. I rubbed my hands up and down my arms, trying to create some friction induced heat, but that did little. Luckily, Sam packed accordingly.

“Here, put these on over your clothes,” he said as he handed me a fluffy parka, a pair of sweatpants, a weird beanie (which I would later find out they called “toques” in Canada), some mittens, and winter boots.

“People actually live in the cold like this?” I queried, to which both Sam and Bucky chortled.

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we’ve been doing it for the past couple of months,” Sam stated.

“You think this is cold? Try spending a winter in Saskatchewan, Jesus, it’s got nothin’ on Alberta,” Bucky added.

“Is that where we are?” I questioned, and Bucky confirmed it with a hum.

Sam led us to another car, this time it was a black Dodge Ram. I guess if we were going to the mountains, we would need a heavy-duty vehicle, one meant to trek mountains.

I stepped up onto the foot rail, and hoisted myself in. We fastened our seatbelts, and I managed to read the time over Sam’s shoulder; 4:39 PM. It was already getting dark, a behavior I assume was regular during Canadian winters.

Sooner than later, my head fell against my chest as I slept a bittersweet sleep, thankful for the rest, as it would pass the time and bring me closer to seeing my family, but also not wanting to miss a single second of the journey to my imagination.

When I awoke, it was to Bucky shaking me lightly and whispering my name. I blinked back the sleep, and drowsily climbed out of the truck. I took in my surroundings. It was pitch black outside, but it only felt like nine or ten. I spun around, to see a huge, cozy looking hotel with trees and snow surrounding it. My mouth hung agape as Sam and Bucky ushered me into the hotel.

Sam checked us in for a one night’s stay, and as much as I wanted to see my family, the sooner the better, I knew that not Sam nor Bucky were accustomed to drive through the snow in the dark.

Bucky and Sam ended up sharing a bed, whilst they insisted upon me having the other one to myself. They made it out to be them just being courteous, but I really think they knew Steve would destroy them for sleeping in the same bed as his best girl.

The morning consisted of a quick pot of coffee to wake us up, and then we were right back on the road, Bucky driving this time. Casual conversations were made, just them asking me what I have been up to for the past while. Nothing much had happened, but I didn’t want to seem like a bore, so I only told them the interesting bits.

Soon, we were in the mountains, occasionally stopping for gas and snacks at random pitstops. I couldn’t help but feel like a little kid on a road trip, constantly wanting to ask, “are we there yet?” or “are we almost there? How much longer?”. Eventually, Sam announced that we would be there in about five minutes, which really grabbed my attention.

“By the way, he doesn’t know you’re coming,” Sam said, which barely fazed me, as I was too excited. My leg bounced up and down like a giddy teenager during an exam, and I could feel my heart beating in my throat.

In a short amount of time, we pulled onto a gravel road, which had recently been neatly shoveled. It weaved through a thick forest, sometimes catching deer in the headlights. The path was shadowy and was barely lit, considering the trees looming over us blocking the sun. The rocky sound of driving across gravel and freshly packed snow filled our ears as we made our way down the trail.

Soon enough, which felt too long even in itself, we came to a clearing. In the middle of that clearing, was a huge, three story log cabin, with multiple vehicles, varying size, type, model, year, color, and brand, scattered around the lot. Before my jaw could fall off its hinges, a familiar female giggle caught my attention. I turned my head to look through the window, to where I saw Wanda and Vision having a snowball fight. I guess Vision must have reconciled with Wanda, and realized that our side was the right to be on.

The truck pulled up to the front of the house, and I slowly, as if mesmerized, took of my seatbelt. Wanda and Vision greeted Bucky and Sam, and they froze when they seen me. I gave them both a small wave and a smile as my feet hit the soft snow, and I may have come across as rude for not greeting them properly, but that could be saved for later. I turned my head to Sam, who quickly understood what I was getting at.

“Inside,” He stated, gesturing towards the big double doors of the manor. My heart skipped a beat as I clambered up the few steps leading to the porch and grasped the wood door handles. I took a breath in and swung the doors open. My eyes wandered the wood interior, before getting caught in a movement at the other end of the hall. I sprinted to where I saw that movement, and looked to my left, where some type of bedroom was located.

Clint sat on the bed, holding a framed photo of his wife and kids. Before he could see me, I made my way back down the hall, and started frantically running around the maze of a place, trying to find my family. It was around noon, so it was very likely that they could be in the kitchen, eating.

When I finally reached the huge kitchen, nobody was to be found. I let out a small sigh, but before I turned to walk out, I heard a voice coming from the next room over.

“Okay, Janie! Ready or not, here I come!” said that voice I knew all too well. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as I took fast steps to the entrance of that room, the living room.

Standing beside the fireplace, was Steve Rogers, but he was different. His back faced me, but I could still see him in the mirror above the fireplace. He had a harder look to him, but those soft eyes I always adored were still there. He had grown out his hair, and now had a nicely trimmed beard. I took a sharp breath in, which must have alerted him that someone was there. He always joked about me being the only one who could sneak up on him.

His eyes met mine in the mirror, and his clenched jaw softened. He slowly lifted his head and spun around to face me. My breaths were shaky as he slowly took a step towards me.

“God, please tell me it’s you, Y/N, because I think if I have to convince myself that I’m seeing you one more time, I’ll go crazy,” He pleaded, his brows knit together.

“Yes,” I said, my voice cracking as my vision started to blur with tears. “It’s me, I promise you it’s me,” I said, as I ran towards him, immediately wrapping his arms around me and pressing his nose into the crook of my neck. I inhaled a long, sharp breath through my nose, missing the way he smelled, as well as the way he felt, the way his voice sounded in the morning, the way looked as his muscles flexed under his shirt when he was working out, and the way his lips tasted on mine. After I felt my tears had permanently stained his gray Henley, I pulled away. His blue eyes were so easy to get lost in, but the overwhelming need to kiss him, to feel him again, outweighed anything else in that moment. Our lips were together in an instant, in a passionate kiss. My hands rested at the back of his neck, and his on my cheeks, his body heat instantly warming me up from the chilly climate of Alberta. After we both pulled away for a breath, he rested his head against mine. I ran a hand down his beard clad cheek, and scratched it gently, to relay that I liked it, which elicited a smile from him.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I-“

“Daddy! What are you doing, are we still playing hide and seek?” said a little girl’s voice. My breath caught in my throat. Steve looked over my shoulder, and back to my eyes. He gave me a knowing look, and I slowly turned on my heels.

“Mommy?”

“Baby…”

“Mommy!” Jane screamed as she dropped her stuffed rabbit and sprinted towards me. I fell to my knees and held my arms open for her. I held her in my arms like that, like the day she was born, for what felt like forever. I don’t even remember exactly when Steve wrapped his arms around us. Silent cries and sniffles could be heard coming from either one of us.

Finally, I was where I should be, home.

Thank you guys so much for the support on the first part :)

Would you guys want an epilogue?

#steve rogers x reader #dad!steve rogers #steve rogers #captain america civil war #captain america #The Avengers #Avengers #marvel #marvel angst

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the campers, chapter four - Steve x Reader

gif by @harringtown

chapter four: the routine

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: The first week of camp is in full swing, bringing a few surprises with it.

warnings: swearin’!

word count: 4k (hehe)

a/n: this chapter encompasses the time span of a week so it’s a lil long and has some stuff happening but I hope you enjoy! things are spicin’ up but not like you’d expect! you can catch up on the series here! (ps Hop didn’t die in s4 because I said so <3)

===

Camp Know Where buzzes with excitement as the new campers file in on Monday. This is Steve’s first ever orientation - well, besides the one he just went through. He’s never been in a position like this, and he’s nervous as he checks people in. But it’s an easy job.

Until the Party walks in.

Steve stares at them all, mouth agape. El, Mike, Max, Lucas, Will - they’re all here, all carrying bags. Mike takes the lead, glaring tensely at Steve, as usual. Steve avoids him and looks at El. “Are you allowed to be here?”

She nods. “Hop’s letting me.”

Steve shakes his head and finds their names on the roster. He should have known, should have seen their names, but it’s actually a nice surprise. Well, except for Mike. But he’s happy everyone else is here.

“Where’s Dustin?” Lucas asks.

“Helping with move in.” Steve looks up. “Does he know you’re here?”

“It’s a surprise,” Will says, beaming.

“That’s nice,” Steve says slowly. “Well, don’t be dickheads, okay? Don’t make my job harder for me.”

El shakes her head, but Mike scoffs, “You’re a counselor?”

Steve gestures to his shirt. “Did you think I just disappeared for the past two weeks?”

“I hoped so.”

Max hits his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

They all step past the table, and Steve puts his head in his hands. They’re gonna kill me, he thinks. A part of him is really happy they’re here, though. He’s not sure if that means he really is fond of them, or if he’s just happy that he can keep them safe here. He straightens and continues helping others check in, directing them to their cabins.

You come up a while later, suppressing a smile as you approach him. He looks flustered, perfected hair now a mess. His cheeks are red and his brows are furrowed as he tries to figure out how many more kids are left to come in.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

He looks up and smiles softly. “So great.”

“It’s not all this boring,” you explain. “Or stressful. It’ll be fun soon, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “You better not be lying to me.”

“What if I am?”

He thinks for a moment. “I’ll flip your kayak.”

You laugh - a loud, ringing laugh. Steve smiles, pleased to have earned it from you. He wants your friendship to go smoothly, he wants you to like him. After yesterday’s confrontation and subsequent confession of enjoyment, he was starting to think maybe it was going to work out. Maybe you both weren’t going to dislike each other.

You straighten, still smiling down at him. “I’d like to see you try, Steve.” You knock twice on the table he’s at. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Steve nods, and you linger for just a second longer before heading off.

===

Steve continues to surprise you through the first week.

Though you still don’t get the appeal of him, you notice that many of the campers love going to see him for their intramurals. And he’s really good at teaching kids how to dodge a ball, or serve, or kayak. You’d never seen nerds so excited to interact with a jock, but they were, and it was actually heartwarming to see. You watched from the sidelines on your breaks as Steve helped teach kids tennis and soccer, his face red from the sun but beaming. He’d pause to wave at you before continuing, and you had a hard time prying yourself away from the scene. It was like it was in his nature to be a teacher, to care after others - and you’d never really seen that in a preppy jock before.

You also never expected a guy like Steve, known jerk, to be so good at interacting with kids.

You’re walking along the shore before dinner on Thursday when you hear shouts coming from the lake. You squint as you look out before seeing the source.

Steve had taught the kids a new game on the kayaks. They’d pass a ball with their paddles back and forth, and if they could get the ball into the seat of their opponent, they got a point. It was probably extremely dangerous, but the kids had fun, and so did he. He was soaked to the bone after every game, but his face hurt from laughing, and that was enough.

You watch from the shore as he and three other campers play, and you shake your head. Another counselor, Mia, comes up behind you and laughs. “He’s pretty popular, huh?”

“Always has been,” you say, turning to face her.

“He’s nice to watch, isn’t he?” She stands on her tiptoes to look past you. “I could watch that man’s arms for days.” You roll your eyes, and she frowns. “You don’t think so?”

You sigh. “He’s just… Steve. I don’t get the appeal.”

“You’re the only one, it seems,” she says, smiling again. “What is he, your villain origin story?”

It’s surprising how accurate the phrasing is. “It’s complicated.”

She shrugs. “You seem to get along well now, at least. Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Your words catch in your throat as she walks away.

Part of you does like Steve. You find enjoyment in him - he’s goofy, he’s funny, he’s kind, and he’s smart. But he’s also the person who made you cry every summer. He’s your childhood bully - how could you enjoy his company? You confuse yourself with your own feelings. It’s like mental gymnastics, trying to hang on to your anger and resentment while equally wanting to like him.

You shake your thoughts out of your head and walk off the shore, away from Steve and his charm.

===

The week ends on Friday, leaving everyone exhausted. The Party kept Steve busy when he wasn’t leading intramurals, draining him fully of his energy. They were going to watch a movie with Suzie in one of the recreation rooms, leaving Steve by himself. He was worn and tired, sunburnt and hot. But he still jogged up to you when he sees you after dinner.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around to face him, a friendly smile crossing your face as he comes up.

“Hey,” he says. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“Just since Monday.”

He shrugs. “Felt like a long time.”

There’s a silence before you clear your throat. “How was your week?”

A wide smile spreads over his face. “It was amazing!”

You let him gush, because you’re genuinely interested. He tells you about how easy it is for him to talk to the campers, how he created Kayak Ball (“still working on a better name”), and how he’d made some friends with other counselors. Which leads him to ask, “Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

Shit.

The annual First Friday Bonfire was tonight, and you’d forgotten all about it. It was usually a very spiritual experience - people would write stories from their past, things that bother them, share it to the group, and then burn the paper in the flames. It was like a reawakening - fire is cleansing, after all. Just last year, you’d wrote about the Steve standing in front of you, hair disheveled and grinning dorkily. You burned the paper and went on with your life.

You never expected he’d be here. It’s a bit mind-boggling.

“Yeah,” you say. “Are you?”

“If you are,” he says, suddenly uncertain. “I don’t really know -”

“Steve, everyone here loves you. You’ve made friends.” You hope the bitterness you feel isn’t being translated into your tone. “You can hang out with these people. They like you.”

He nods, frowning. “I know. It’s just….” He sighs heavily. “I’ve never had people… like me before.”

Your stomach falls as you remember what he had told you about - how he hadn’t talked to Tommy since junior year. These were the first adults he had interacted with in years; he was bound to be nervous.

“I’ll be there.” You reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “But you don’t need me. Everyone here thinks you’re incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the only thing the girl counselor cabin talks about.”

You see a blush creep up his cheeks. “Really?”

You don’t want to indulge him - you shouldn’t indulge him - but you do. “Every girl here has the hots for you. Maybe even some of the boys.”

Steve’s breath catches. “Every girl?”

You stare at him awkwardly. “Well - n… no, not every girl, but - enough.” You feel embarrassment creeping hotly through your veins. “Not - not me, if you’re thinking -”

“No, no,” he says, just as awkwardly as you. “No, I know that.” He smiles slightly. “You hate me.”

A smile turns the corners of your lips. “Yeah. I hate you.”

“Right.”

A long and awkward silence ensues before he says, “Yeah - okay. I will see you tonight.”

===

Hours later, you saunter over to the counselor bonfire, located right off the shore of the lake. It’s a beautiful, clear night - a slight breeze rustles the trees and the fire licks the stars. You’re a bit late, and Steve’s nervous that you won’t show up. Despite this, he is literally surrounded by the female counselors, who are eagerly asking him about himself.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble as you approach.

“Look who it is!” Josh shouts out as you near. “Y/N, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you say dryly, entering the circle.

Steve pats the log beside him - he had saved you a seat. With all these girls surrounding him, he saved you a seat. He had to tell them, “hey, don’t sit there, it’s reserved,” while he waited for you to show up. It’s a sweet gesture, one that sends your heart beating a little too fast for your liking. You sit beside him, giving a tight lipped smile.

The girls all smile at you, as if it’s all some type of game. And you know why they’re so amused - you had dramatically cut them off each night when Steve would be brought up. You’d throw a pillow over your head and shout at them to just shut up already. They thought you weren’t immune to his charms, just as they weren't. You roll your eyes at them.

Josh hands you a piece of paper and a pencil. “We’re doing the burning ceremony in a few.”

You take the paper and pencil from him gently, sitting it on your lap. Beside you, Steve is clutching his paper tightly to his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek as you think about what to write down - you’d already metaphorically burned Steve last year. You simply write down my past with no elaboration, intending to feed everyone a fake story and then throw it into the fire.

Steve himself didn’t need to think very long about what to write down. His biggest regret was the way he had treated people. A nauseous jerk tugs at his stomach when he thinks about high school, when he thinks about Nancy and Jonathan, when he thinks about the mask he always hid behind. He’s reminded of it every single day here with you - memories that he can’t quite touch but that he knows are there. The feeling of guilt when he looks at you, at the way your brows furrow and eyes narrow at him. How, even now, the pleasantries hide behind past aggression.

He doesn’t blame you.

And maybe, perhaps, burning a piece of paper will make him feel better. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever done.

You listen as everyone goes around and tells their story. Some talk about relationships, or mental health. Each story is met with support from the circle, almost like group therapy. When all comments are said, the paper is thrown in, and everyone claps and cheers as it burns. You can sense that Steve is getting more and more nervous as he gets closer to talking, and you wonder what’s on his paper.

When it’s your turn, you stand up. “I wrote down my past.” You clear your throat. “Uh - I’m not proud of who I used to be. I used to be so quiet and shy. But I’m happier now, and louder, and I’m not afraid of the space that I take up.”

Steve’s eyes burn a hole into your side as you tell your story. He remembers the girl you’re talking about. He remembers how quiet you were, always minding your own business. And his chest hurts when he realizes that he’s probably why you were that way.

It takes a lot of strength for you to not side-eye him.

Everyone tells you that they’re proud and you throw the paper into the fire, sitting back down and crossing your hands over your lap. There’s a tenseness between you and Steve, but no one realizes the connection.

Steve stands, his hands shaking. It takes him a second to find his voice.

“Um. Well, when I was younger - not younger, just a few years ago - I was a jerk.”

You tense up, staring intently into the fire.

“I was such a dick. I made the worst decisions and the worst friends. I used to follow the crowd, because I thought that’s what I had to do to make them like me.” He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “And I knew it was wrong - I knew it was - but that’s not an excuse. I let it go on for too long, and I hurt a lot of people. And that really kills me each day.”

You squeeze your hands together.

“I’m trying so hard to not be that person anymore, and I’m glad that I’m not. I got away from those people and I found better friends. Friends who believe in me and like me for me.” He clears his throat and sniffles. “But I’m so worried that I’ll turn back into that person again. I know there are people who will always know me as that person, and that sucks.” His eyes land on the top of your head. “But not as much as it sucks for them, I’m sure.

“I’m just ashamed,” he continues. “I wish I could change what I did. I wish I could make everyone believe that I’m not that guy anymore. I wish I wasn’t so scared. Most of all, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Everyone’s silent. Steve asks, “Do - do I throw it in now?”

“No,” Josh says. “Uh - wow. I don’t even know where to start.”

Steve feels the shame creeping into his chest again and bows his head.

“First of all, man, you’re allowed to change. You can change, and it’s obvious that you did,” Josh says.

Steve looks up, shocked at the validation.

“Yeah,” Nico, Steve’s roommate, interjects. “Dude, you’re one of the nicest, goofiest people I’ve ever met.”

A few yeahs echo around the circle.

“And it’s a good sign that you regret what you’ve done,” another girl, Emily, says. “That shows growth.”

You sit tensely, feeling cold in front of the fire. You know he’s talking about you. And you know he means what he’s saying.

You interject a few moments later. “What matters is that you’re trying to change. That’s the best you can do.”

Steve looks down at you, brows furrowing, but it feels like a weight has lifted off of him, freeing him. Feels like his collar bones aren’t cracking under pressure. His eyes are soft and filled with tears - he wasn’t expecting any of this.

You swallow hard, feeling your own tears swelling in your eyes. “And I think that - I think that it’s obvious you aren’t like who you were before.”

Never in your life did you think you’d say that, and never in Steve’s life did he think he’d hear it.

A few people agree, reinforcing that it’s okay for him to be ashamed, but it’s okay for him to grow, too. It’s a bit much for Steve, who makes a strong effort to not burst out into sobs. You can’t meet his eyes yet, but when he sits down after throwing the paper in, you reach for his hand and squeeze it. It’s more than the truce at the breakfast table - it’s an understanding. It’s forgiveness. It’s comfort. It’s friendship. You decide to truly, finally swallow your past, let the flames do their job, and embrace the new Steve.

Your hand leaves after just a second, but he understands the message, and you both smile the rest of the night.

===

It’s Sunday night now, and you’re doing rounds. It’s a little after one in the morning. You check on every cabin to make sure kids are asleep and safe, then decide to sneak a dip in the lake. It was a cool night, but the water was calling. You approach the pier but stop when you see another body already sitting on the edge, shoulders slumped.

You can tell despite the distance that it’s Steve, and you can tell that something’s wrong.

You make your footsteps loud so he can hear you coming, and you take a seat on the wood beside him. The lake is bright from the moon, and it illuminates on Steve’s sullen face. “You okay?”

He nods softly. “I just wanted to take a walk,” he says, but his voice cracks.

You frown. “Is that all?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, but you can see that his cheeks and eyes are red and swollen. Finally, he whispers, “I had a nightmare.”

Steve had awoken in a sweat, kicking his sheets off of him and gasping for breath. It was another dream about the Upside Down, and it hit him unexpectedly and hard. Nico had stood over his bed, worry etched onto his face, asking Steve if he was okay. Steve brushed it off and said he needed to go on a walk. When he slipped outside, he cried, hugging himself as he walked to the pier. It was the brightest spot at camp, the only place he felt safe. He had learned the lake like the back of his hand in three week’s time, had found a home in it, and he went there to pull himself together.

A nightmare was a bit of an understatement - it had felt so real. He went weeks without one, happily, assuming the distance from Hawkins was helping. It was disheartening to have one here. Embarrassing, too. He wonders if Dustin or any of the kids had been having them.

The anguish on his face and cheeks is apparent and you whisper, “Hey,” taking his hand and squeezing it again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head numbly. He would like to talk about it, but knows he can’t. “Just a stupid dream.”

You frown. “It’s not stupid to feel scared.”

Steve sniffles. “I know.”

“But do you know?”

Steve stills, eyebrows knitting together again. “I… it’s hard to feel like it’s not stupid.”

You nod. “I know how you feel. Well, at least a bit.”

“Do you have nightmares?”

“No,” you whisper. Your thumb absentmindedly rubs over his. “But I have anxiety. And I know how it feels to think it’s stupid to feel that way.”

Steve nods. “I just kind of… push it down. I try not to bother people with it.”

“You’re not bothering people who love you for talking about it. Have you told Dustin?”

“Yeah, but… he’s got his own problems.”

You nod in understanding. After a few moments of silence, you say, “You can talk to me.”

He laughs solemnly. He wishes he could talk to someone about it. Someone outside of the people who were there, or outside of the shrinks that Doc Owens had recommended. Anyone with a new perspective. But he can’t, because the person he’d confide in would die, and he really doesn’t need that on his conscience. That’s not something you could burn in a fire and forget about.

“I’m serious,” you say. “I can help.”

Steve kicks his feet back and forth in the water for a few minutes. Then he looks over at you. “How do you stop being anxious?”

“You don’t,” you say, laughing. “It just gets easier to hide. But having friends helps, and loving yourself helps.”

“I don’t have either.”

You elbow his side gently. “You have friends, Steve. And I’ll be damned if you don’t like yourself by the time you leave here.”

He’s quiet again, then says, “It’s really hard for me to think of people as friends. It’s hard to think that people actually want to hang out with me. Tommy and Carol used me for money and an empty house.” He shrugs lazily. “The attention just feels so… superficial now.”

And it makes your heart ache, because maybe that’s why he won’t give in to the girls here. He thinks they don’t like him for him - they only like him for his looks. Even if he wants them to like him, if he wants someone to love, it’s hard to accept it. The realization ignites an odd anger in you; he doesn’t deserve to feel like this.

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But at least you’re aware of it, right?”

He nods and shrugs again. “I guess.”

More silence.

“Your speech on Friday…,” you say softly. “It meant a lot.”

“It didn’t have to -”

“But it did.”

He swallows and turns to face you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing his thumb again. “I forgive you.” You smile. “For real this time.”

He smiles, too. “Apparently, since you can’t stop holding my hand.”

You retract it quickly, holding it to your chest. You didn’t realize how long you’d been holding it, and you blushed deeply. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You sure?” he grins. “Because someone told me every girl here likes me.”

You kick water towards him and he laughs, kicking back. You’re happy to see the light back in his eyes.

“So Kayak Ball, huh?”

“It’s the next big thing.” He seems proud of it.

You hum. “So I’ve heard.” You splash water towards him again. “You gonna teach me?”

Steve laughs incredulously. “You want to learn?”

“Yeah,” you smile, shrugging. “Maybe I can stop by tomorrow on my break.”

He smiles widely. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

You push up and reach out for his hand, pulling him up with you. “Let me walk you back to your cabin, okay?”

“You don’t have to -”

“I don’t want you to get lost in the woods.”

You walk together in silence, but Steve feels comforted. Like maybe he could go back to sleep when he lays down instead of worrying about dying.

“Hey,” you say when you approach his cabin. “Um… Mia? She wanted me to put in a good word for her.”

“As in?”

“As in, you should sit with her at lunch.” You wink. “She’s one of those ‘every girls’ that likes you.”

His eyes widen and then he smiles, shaking his head. “You mean it?”

“No, it’s a prank.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head again. “Well, thanks for the tip.”

You smile and nod. When you turn to walk towards your cabin, you say, “Goodnight, Steve.”

He waves after you. “Goodnight.”

===

taglist (join here!): @troop-scoop @therealestdookie @jasontoddisfantastical @mybestfriendthedingus @anonymousonion23 @darth-el @unknownherelm @random-thoughts-003 @metuel18 @dark-academics-and-florals @magicstrengthandcourage @mathchampagne @magnitude101999 @yall-wildin-like-siriusly @sunshine-and-riverwater @dark-academics-and-florals @scooprtroopr @heart-eye-harrington @sourapplebaby @comedy-witch @mochminnie @thatkidofwarandpeace @lukeskisses @ssanjuniperoo @harrington-ofhawkins @write-from-the-heart @yazmin626 @bravest-at-heart

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington au #the campers #this chap is truly horrific but what can u do truly!

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ghostlypoemland · 3 years

Text

Garden: Chapter 1

Astrid Hofferson/Viggo Grimborn: hoping you never find out who i really am, cause i love you, just how you are.

Chapter one:

Ysir was only sixteen when she was married to Arne Hofferson, who at the time, was twenty-nine. She did not know the man well, aside from the fact that he would come and visit her father during the weekends and she would have to serve them mead. He was quite young, she would think, and quite handsome as well. These thoughts were innocent, she wouldn’t have expected her father to call her in one day and announce to the family that he was planning on getting her married to Arne, with her consent, of course. Her father had told her that Arne was a good man and would take care of her well, but she knew that he was really just saying that she was just a burden, and getting rid of her would leave him with one less family member to worry about feeding. She tried not to think much about it, because honestly, it made sense. They were a big family - one man running the house, with ten children to feed. Her family was poor, and she was often reminded of this fact at her husband's home:

Be thankful. When you came here, you had nothing.

And this was said to her by Frida, Arne's first wife, his first love. When Ysir had questioned Arne on why he decided to marry again, he explained to her that Frida was who he loved, and she was where his loyalties lie. He married her simply because she could give birth, and Frida could not.

Ysir often felt like Frida could throw her out of this house at any time, and what would happen then? Where would she go? Her father would never agree to take her back, not with so many mouths to feed. Bloody hell! She first thought, her eyes prickling with tears as she tried to figure out a way to get Frida out of the house. She could always throw Frida out of the house - the house did now belong to her, considering she held more power and a better position in the family because she could give birth, but then Arne would kick her out and bring Frida back in. She just couldn't think hard enough.

Eventually, she gave up, and came to realize that she didn't really care if her husband didn't love her, and saw her as an tool he would use to produce offsprings. She didn't even love her husband, heck, she barley even knew the man! So she came to a decision that she would play her role as a wife and take care of the house and bear him children in return for a comfortable bed, good food, and a roof that doesn't leak over her head.

But it wasn't so easy. Living with another woman in the house came with some complications, from the awkward conversation they'd have while preparing dinner to the uncomfortable eye contact they would make from time to time. Frida was beautiful. She had a strong face, with her cheekbones being the most noticeable feature on her face. Her brick-red hair was parted in the middle and formed into perfect waves that reached her waist. Her hazel eyes were carefully lined with kohl. In comparison to that, Ysir had a chubby face, short shaggy black hair, and bright blue eyes. There wasn't much you could say about her.

She felt like an uninvited quest in the house, moving around the house, around the bedroom, in which she slept alone most days for Arne usually slept with Frida in a bigger bedroom, upstairs. She felt like a fly, unwanted and annoying. That is, until now. Everything would be different with the birth of this baby, she assured herself. She would no longer feel ill at ease, no longer insecure.

Almost against her will, Ysir glanced towards the doorway, where Frida stood, a hand on her hip. For an instant, the two women locked gazes. The air around them felt thick and slightly yeasty, like rising dough. They had shared a room for twelve hours, with Frida helping the midwife with towels and water. Frida averted her gaze. She nodded towards the baby.

"Why doesn't she make a sound?" Frida said, with a hardness on her face that hadn't been there before.

"Yes. Is there something wrong?" Ysir turned ashen. Having had six miscarriages in only a few years, each more devastating than the last and harder to forget, she had been extremely careful throughout this pregnancy.

"Can I hold her?" Asked Ysir, holding the sides of her hair softly, an anxious habit she had picked up over the past year. "She...she's not crying. Why is she not crying?"

"Oh, she will cry, this girl," the midwife said in a decisive tone and instantly bit her tongue. She herself was worried. Her words echoed like a dark omen.

An awkward silence settled over the room as the first wife, the second wife and the midwife all stared at the baby with expectant eyes.

The midwife took the baby to the other side of curtain, and Ysir could hear rapid movement alongside the midwife's heavy breathing.

"Please," Ysir sighed, speaking to no one in particular as she rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. "Please!" She cried out again. Every night since she found out she was pregnant, she would talk herself to sleep. It was comforting. Just to mumble things to her self, especially about the baby.

My baby will be kind, and loving. Everyone will love you. She would speak to her slightly swollen belly, happily. My baby will be beautiful. You will make a difference. You will be gentle and soft. You will be beautiful. I will love you. You will love me. We will be happy.

But it was different today, she was crying. After months of being cautious with every step she took and after months of isolating her self in her room to stay away from all that was toxic - Frida and Arne- just so this baby would live. Just so this baby could arrive safe and healthy. "Please!" She cried out. My baby will survive.

At last! Whoever it was she was crying out to had answered her prayers. The baby had started crying- shrieking. The baby had started shrieking. The voice of the child echoed around the house and into the neighbor's house. A series of "Thank Thor!" And sighs of relief could be heard from the other room, where Arne and his family with a couple of his friends were waiting.

The midwife began to panic as the fierce baby began to move uncontrollably in her arms, kicking and waving her arms and legs in the air. The midwife clumsily handed the baby to Ysir, whose eyes were filled with tears.

The baby stopped crying and her big blue eyes had widened as it stared at the women above who was smiling down at her. The baby blinked and her head shifted a little to right, now staring at the Frida, who now stood next to Ysir. Then her gaze went back to Ysir and again she began crying.

You see, while Ysir was screaming in agony for the past twelve hours, this little one was conversing with herself instead of trying of escape from the womb.

What is wrong with you? Her heart said. They're all waiting for you! Come one! Kick!

Her gut said, Oh, I like it here. It's warm and cozy. I don't want to go!

Her heart protested, Don't be silly! Why stay in a place where nothing happens? It's so boring.

But why leave a place where nothing happens? It's safe here. Her gut said.

Sometimes where you feel most safe is where you least belong. Her heart countered. No turning back.

No turning back.

She finally reached a conclusion, she would go with the heart. And finally when she pushed out, and was taken behind the curtain, and the midwife had slapped her bottom once, twice and she began crying. She hadn't expected it to be this fucking cold! She began shrieking.

Ysir chuckled at the exchange she had with her baby when she had quieted down. Frida had opened the door and slipped outside - no doubt to give the news to her husband - their husband.

A couple of minutes later, Arne entered the room. Smiling, he approached the bed. He looked at the baby, at the second wife, at the midwife, at the first wife, nodding at her, and finally back at the baby.

"Odin! I thank you! You've accepted my prayers."

"A girl," Ysir said softly, in case he was not yet aware.

"I know. The next one will be a boy. We will name him Eric." He ran his fingers across the baby's forehead. "All that matters is she is healthy. Thank Odin! This baby is not mine, nor is she yours. She was sent a gift."

Ysir stared at him with pure confusion in her eyes. Suddenly, she was seized by a feeling of apprehension, like a wild animal that was about the walk into a trap. She glanced at Frida, who was standing by the entrance, lips pursed so tight they were almost white as her foot tapped impatiently against the floorboard. Something about her demeanor suggested that she was overjoyed and excited, suspiciously excited.

"This baby was gifted to us by the the Gods!" Arne said.

"All babies are," murmured the midwife.

Arne then held his younger wife's hand and look her straight in the eyes. "We'll give this baby to Frida."

"What in Thor's name are you talking about?" Ysir rasped.

"Let Frida raise her. She'll do an excellent job. You and I will make more children."

"No!"

"You don't want more kids?"

"I am not going to let that woman take my daughter."

Arne drew in a breath, then released it slowly.

"Don't be selfish. The Gods have given you this baby. Be grateful. You were barley scraping by when you came to this house. Come on, It's not-"

"This was her idea, wasn't it?" Ysir interrupted him - something she had never done before. "Did she come up with this?" Or have you two been plotting for months? Behind me back."

"Don't be stupid. You are young. Frida is getting old. She will never have a child of her own. Give her a gift."

Ysir shook her head, and kept doing so. Arne sighed and leaned over and held her by the shoulders, pulling her close to him. Only then she became still.

"You're not being rational." Arne said, his palm softly rubbing Ysir's back. "We're all in the same house. You'll see your daughter everyday. It's not like she will be going away, for Thor's sake."

Trembling to hold back the pain ripping through her chest, Ysir covered her face with the palm of her hands. "And who will my daughter call 'Mummy'?"

"What difference does it make? Frida can be Mummy, and you'll be Auntie. We'll tell her the truth when she gets older, no need to confuse her little head now. When we have more kids, they will all be brothers and sisters anyway. They'll be running riot in the house. You won't be able to tell who belongs to who. We'll all be one big family."

"And who is going to nurse the baby?" Asked the midwife. "The mummy or the auntie?"

Arne's head shot up towards the midwife as he stared at the nosy woman with annoyance. He sighed and dug into his pocket, bringing out a small sack of five gold coins.

"Here." He handed her the sack. "A token of our gratitude."

The midwife smiled and nodded, stepping back.

"Let me name her." Ysir said. If she wasn't going to raise the child as her own she could at least live happily with the knowledge that she was the one that named her.

"Well alright then." Arne said. "We will make the decision together."

"I was thinking," Frida said, her eyes fixated on the baby, "For the past few months, that if it was a boy, we would name it Erik, like Arne said. But since, she's a girl, we could name her Camicazi. It's a beautiful name."

"Oh, that's quite a lovely name. I like that." Arne said, happily, and the midwife nodded in agreement, standing behind him.

Ysir blinked. It was a beautiful name. But she wasn't going to give Frida the privilege of naming her own baby.

"No." Ysir said, strong and clear. "I will name her. By myself.

Arne and Frida exchanged glances.

"Oh." Frida sighed, "Of course." She then sat down on a chair, pushing it towards the right, so she could be next to her husband.

Ysir felt pressure as the midwife, her husband, and his wife stared at her, waiting for her to decide.

She looked at her baby, who was staring back at her. She is beautiful. Ysir thought. The baby rolled around, the sunlight reflecting on her rosy cheeks.

"Astrid." Ysir said. "It was also my grandmother's name. And...she's beautiful, just like her."

"Astrid..." Arne repeated and then looked at Frida who nodded back at him in approval. "I like it. It's a beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"Astrid!" He said again as he took the baby from Ysir's arms and lifted her in air. Frida laughed, "Be careful! She's not toy!"

Arne and Frida laughed as they took turns in holding the baby. Ysir sighed and leaned her head back, silent tears dropping down her face. She wish she could be as happy as them.

Arne held Astrid and opened the door, walking to the other room, where the rest of the relatives and his friends were waiting. His voice echoed around Ysir's head.

"Astrid Hofferson!" Arne happily yelled. "Her name is Astrid Hofferson!"

#astrid hofferson #astrid #rtte viggo #viggo grimborn #race to the edge #viggstrid #httyd #fanfiction #writing #vigstrid

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juminsmysticmc · 4 years

Note

Hello! I love your writing, and I was wondering if you would write something about MC being from Denmark. You can choose who you want to write about! Thank you, and stay safe in all this

RFA with a Danish Mc

You too dear! Please wash your hands regularly and stay at home!

By the way, are you from Denmark? If so - I will come visiting you OMG

Like, I love Denmark (of course I don’t know anything about it and if you would ask me about the capital now I would helplessly look around, so please ask me something about Japan) BUT I ALWAYS WANTED TO GO TO DENMARK ONCE!

And btw, I love danish cookie. Oh my God I‘m getting excited. But now I will stop! Hahaha, here you are!

Jumin

Your husband was pretty excited when you showed him the flight tickets to your homeland, Copenhagen in Denmark.

He got even more excited, when you told him that you wanted to show him something special.

,,My favorite sight for my favorite person!’’ you giggled and hugged the black-haired man.

And it finally came.

September approached and you and Jumin got brought to the airport, ready to go to your home.

,,The Night of Culture in the capital of Denmark,’’ you breathed and watched the amazing view in front of you.

It was dark and just the buildings illuminated the city.

Variety buildings opened their doors to their basements for this single night.

Jumin observed the building in front of him and then the reflection in the water before he turned his eyes to you.

,,You look so beautiful…’’ he told you and stroked your cheek.

,,Jeg elsker dig,’’ you whispered and kissing him, confessing your love to him.

Zen

,,Okay, so, don’t get worked up if several women come to kiss you on your cheek as soon as I am gone,’’ you told your future husband.

Zen decided to ask you to marry him even without his family.

Three years already passed and his family still didn’t accept him.

And Zen knew that it would be wrong to make you wait longer.

One day he simply asked you to marry him and here you were, preparing for your wedding in your homeland in Denmark since you were Danish.

,,Oh, okay…’’ he mumbled.

You sighed and actually confessed that the same would happen to you.

,,Wait, they kiss the bride?’’ he asked you shocked.

You didn’t know that at that point Zen decided to never leave you for a single moment.

,,Danish who aren’t invited will stare too, it’s named Globryllup, stare wedding in your language,’’ you explained, observing him slowly nod.

,,The guests will probably write little songs on well-known melodies,’’ you informed him and opened YouTube, ready to sing the melody to your favorite song as an example.

Zen listened to your voice as you sang to the soft notes of the instruments in the background.

,,I don’t know what Jeg en gård mig bygge vil means, but I love it a lot,’’ he laughed and kissed you.

,,This will be an amazing wedding,’’ you breathed and kissed him again.

Yoosung

,,Oh, Mr Kim, your lunch seems yummy again,’’ a co-worker of Yoosung said as he looked into his plate.

,,Yes,’’ Yoosung laughed ,,my wife is Danish and made me my lunch, it’s named Smørrebrød. Basically it’s rye bread with a lot of butter and then you can put on whatever you want,’’ Yoosung told him.

,,Oh, and what do you have today on your bread?’’ the co-worker kept asking, seeming pretty interested.

Yoosung began to explain with an eagerness that you used a traditional receipt with fish, egg, canned vegetables, and a lot of sauces.

,,So, you eat a lot of your wife’s food at home?’’ he asked again.

,,Well, yes, we cook together but we also eat a lot of Korean food,’’ Yoosung nodded and made a note to himself that he had to buy cinnamon since you wanted to make kanelstang, basically a cinnamon cake.

,,I will bring you something next week, it will be her birthday and we will cook a lot of different food,’’ Yoosung laughed and then finally took a bite of his cold lunch, his favorite to be honest, and enjoyed it to the fullest.

The days off were his favorites, being able to invite over the RFA and eat your good food, and he couldn’t wait for this day to be finally over.

Jaehee

Your girlfriend began to put the cake in the oven while you observed her beautiful long hair.

Jaehee seemed to feel you staring at her as she suddenly turned around and smiled brightly at you.

,,Say,’’ she began ,,do you know how women lived in the past in your country?’’ she asked you.

Your girlfriend was the type of woman who wanted to know everything about the people around her, and so it was with you.

When the both of you began to go out as a couple, she demanded to see your hometown.

She was so happy when you brought her to your home, making you meet your parents and actually confessed that you had two last names.

Back then she confessed that it was an amazing feeling to know something more about the one you love.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of the coffee she prepared for you when you began to tell her, that with the gradual introductions of catholicism women’s rights were increasingly regulated and restricted.

,,Sons and daughters both had the right to inheritance with the difference that sisters would inherit half of the portion of a brother,’’ you explained.

Even though you were sure that this story was totally boring, Jaehee seemed to enjoy listening to you.

,,From the 1780s, schools for secondary education for females were established in the capital but women were only allowed to teach girls or very small boys, don’t ask why,’’ you chuckled.

,,You know,’’ Jaehee spoke up ,,whenever you talk about home your eyes begin to shine brightly and I think that’s beautiful,’’ she confessed, giving you a peak on your nose and biting off a butter cookie, her favorites.

Saeyoung

,,Woah, Saeyoung Choi, you actually disappoint me,’’ you laughed as you tried once again to teach him the alphabet in danish.

,,But the Danoalphabet is complicated, what can I do?’’ he acted and began to play with his fake blonde wing.

,,Aish!’’ you laughed and tried to take away the wing he was wearing.

,,Okay, again,’’ you signed and began to say the masculine forms in danish.

Saeyoung at some point began to complain to you that he didn’t get when he had to write Å and Ø, making it kind of harder for you to go on with the lesson.

,,Okay, wait here, I will make you Glogg,’’ you patted on his back and decided to also take some cookies with you.

,,You are a real danish woman,’’ he laughed.

Glogg was an alcoholic drink made out of wine heated with spices like cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg.

You laughed at his comment and got up.

What you didn’t know at that point was, that Saeyoung could speak the language as if he lived there for ages and just mocked you to have some time with you because you were honestly the best teacher on the world and looking at your blue danish eyes made his heart always melt.

MASTERLIST 1

MASTERLIST 2

MASTERLIST 3

21.05.2020// 23.35 MEST

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pancakesandpain · 4 years

Text

It wasn’t the first time B had found himself in a tight spot, tied down and no idea where he was. None of that was new to him and as the time passed by, excruciatingly slow, he found himself instead increasingly bored. His captors - who’d probably done so entirely righteously - had left him alone, for far too long. B had already gone through the why’s, the how’s and what’s next a hundred times when the door to the room finally opened. and so when the hero themself walked in, B smirked widely at them.

His prison, if you could even call it that, looked more like a spare room, a tea room with some chairs, a coffee table and a fireplace. He was tied down to a chair with his arm behind the back of it and placed in the middle of the room, his back too the only shuttered window in the room and facing the door. They’d had the wits to at least restrain him down with actual chains. Everything else, from the spare room to the thin door with a single lock, proved that B’s boss had been absolutely right about the band of heroes who were trying to claim back the city. They had no idea how to break someone, much less keep prisoners.

”Are you comfortable” A said drily, not a single true concern held in the words. B raised his eyebrows, amused. Trying to be sarcastic to intimidate? Oh, he knew how to play that game, and A would be loosing before they even got started.

”Actually, yes. Best chair I’ve sat on in years. And these chains, ” he shrugged, moving his arms and rattling his bounds for emphasis, ”are some high quality shit. Would be nice with a fire though… ” B nodded towards the dark fireplace, his grin only growing wider. A’s face darkened, getting the intended joke there but seeing none of the humour.

Well, B had probably burnt A more times than he could count, so he couldn’t really blame them for not laughing. Not that it showed. None of A’s team members had as much as a scar on their bodies. B guessed they had their healer, their personal walking first aid kit, to thank for that neat trick.

That’s all they ever seemed to be good at, lick their wounds and paint the world back into silly colors. B’s boss hadn’t even acknowledged the team as an actual threat yet. Sure they could be annoying, delaying their plans but they weren’t dangerous and never had been. Not according to B’s boss at least. And B was shameless to admit he was a bit curious about what they would come up with.

”No fire for you. You are going to tell me everything I need.” A took two more steps into the room, B only raised his eyebrows skeptically, jutting out his jaw and met A’s dark blue eyes with defiance.

”Sure, or else, right? You’re going to do what? Tickle me?” He let out a laugh.

”No… A truth spell…” A stated calmly. B snorted, trying to stifle even more of the laugh that threatened to become hysterical. ”…Bounded with blood.”

They produced a knife, seemingly from thin air and with that B’s face fell, his mouth slightly open in silent disbelief. The laugh died faster than the flip of a light switch.

”Good, now I’ve got your attention.” Now it was A’s turn to smirk, but it sounded more in their voice than it showed on their face, only a slight curl of their lips.

B shut his mouth with a snap and tried to regain the function of his brain that had seemed to just halt at the mention of the rare magic and the sight of the blade. His face still wore the skeptical furrow, but there was some uncertainty there he couldn’t hide.

”Uh, seriously? A, you don’t just joke about that…”

B didn’t know anyone from the hero team even knew blood magic. It was dark, way too dark and dangerous and unreliable. Not even B’s boss would use it because of what it could cost, what it could do. B, who himself had done nearly as many crimes as his boss, wouldn’t even wish blood magic upon his worst enemy, much less try and use it. He’d least expected this team to use anything even similar to blood magic.

They’d campaigned themselves as not only the ’good guys’ but as the non violent, pg 13, hug loving, rainbow team.

Before he could make another sound of protest A had made a slit in their palm and closed the other two steps between them, hand raised toward his chest.

”If it works, it will only hurt if you lie. If it doesn’t… it will hurt all the same.” A flashed him a smile, like they tried to be apologetic. B could see their eyes telling something else, something wicked glinting in the deep blue and his breath hitched. There was a fearful twist in his stomach as he realized he recognized that look, he’d seen it so often in the eyes of his boss’s henchmen and it was something he’d never thought he’d see in A’s.

A wasn’t joking.

This could go wrong on so many levels even if A knew what they were doing. But from what B’s boss had told him about the heroes, their techniques and tactics, this was not something they usually did, at all.

He had been surprised that they had taken him prisoner in the first place, but he hadn’t thought them capable to even hurt him slightly. And even if he had, he thought that whatever they’d come up with, he’d already lived through worse. A tea room as an improvised prison cell was exactly the level he’d expected.

Dark torture magic wasn’t.

He hadn't expected blood magic.

He struggled against the chains, wriggling to either sides to try and get away from the bleeding hand A reached towards him.

”Be still, or it will fail. I haven’t had that much practice.” A muttered the last part, and it did nothing to calm B down, he struggled even harder, the chains starting to cut into him and when that didn’t work; ”Get the fuck away from me!”

”What are you doing?”

Suddenly C was by A’s side, grabbing their wrist and pulling the hand away from B.

”It’s just a truth spell. We need him to talk.”

A looked more irritated to be interrupted than surprised by Cs’ sudden appearance. B was left blinking, heart thundering in his ears and eyes darting between them trying to figure where the hell C had come from. His mind was reeling and his body buzzing with adrenaline and it took him a solid ten seconds to remember C’s powers were probably the cause of their sudden appearance. And he’d never been so happy to see C in his life.

Neither C or A was looking at him anymore. They seemed to have their own staring contest until C broke the silence.

”You were going to hurt him.”

”No…”

”Yes you were!” B gasped, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He tried to cover his sheer relief with a scowl. He couldn’t believe how close A had been, not stopping, not bluffing. And they hadn’t even tried another tactic to get him to talk. They’d gone straight for the darkest option possible. The one way ticket to your friendly neighborhood hell.

”Shut up” they both said in unison to him, not letting go of the others’ gaze.

”You were going to use blood magic! A, you promised you didn’t do that!” C continued, voice pitching with emotion.

”They’re fucking crazy-” B chimed in again, hoping C would be more…reasonable?

”I said shut up!” C said at the same time as A turned to him, raising their hand as if to hit him but stopped themself. It made B flinch anyway and C gave A a scowl.

”We don’t do that.” C continued, their voice turning stern and tired, like they’d had this argument before and believed the message came through only to find now that it hadn’t. A’s head snapped back to C.

”We are running out of options. This time there isn’t much of a choice-” A bit back but was once again cut short by C.

”There’s always a choice! You were the one who taught me that! We don’t do this! I won’t let you”

There were tears now in C’s eyes and just like that, A lost all frustration in their expression, melted away and changed in an instant. Their uncut hand went up to C’s cheek, trying to comfort them, stroke away the tears that had started to trail down.

B just stared, blinking confused and barely daring to breathe. He didn’t care for the tender moment playing out before him, the raw feelings they both seemed to wear on the outside like coats. He was used to guard his feelings deep inside, where they were safe, controlled.

Despite that, the threat of blood magic had come close to tearing those walls down and the last thing he wanted was to break the moment between the two team members, just to bring attention back to that. To him.

”They have [the healer].” A said quietly to C who had leaned into the touch and put their own hand over A’s.

”I want them back.” C replied softly, closing their eyes as more tears fell. ”I’m so afraid they’re hurt… or worse.”

”I know, me too.”

”And D is… We need them to…” C started to sob, unable to finish the sentences and A pulled them into a hug, stroking their hair and fighting tears of their own.

B wanted to melt through the floor. Or at least be able to look away. He felt like an intruder watching something way too intimate. He wasn’t used to see feelings thrown around so openly. And he couldn’t decide if it made him want to groan at how pathetic they looked or envy them for being able to be so vulnerable towards each other.

He’d never had moments like these, not before he joined his boss, and not after, not with anyone. He wondered what it must be like. How did they not feel ridiculous crying so openly?

Then his brain registered what they’ve been saying. About their healer, they had been taken. That must have been why the team decided to capture him. But why on earth would they think B even knew where their healer was?

Realization dawned on him and he swallowed, hard.

”Um… I, uh, I don’t know where your healer is.”

He cringed at how it immediately made A and C brake apart, like they really had forgotten he was still there. The look C gave him was absolutely venomous.

”You’re lying. Of course you know. You are your boss’s sidekick. Their second in command, their right hand.”

”You think my boss has your healer” B deadpanned, it wasn’t a question. He realized this would become very, very complicated for him.

”We know they do.” A replied, turning towards him again and then looking down at their cut hand, blood still dripping from it. B’s eyes also trailed to the hand, the blood, and could hear his heart starting to pick up and thrum in his ears.

”Ok, but I don’t think… I mean I don’t know anything about that, seriously, you have to believe me.”

B wanted to swallow his own tongue as soon as he said it. Wrong choice of words.

”Oh, I’ll believe you, as soon as you’re under my spell.” A raised their hand again, making B flinch hard into the back of the chair.

”It’s not a spell, It’s a curse!” His voice pitched and broke with panic. ”You don’t even know what you’re doing!”

”A…” C’s soft voice made A look at them again, hand stopped still and held in the air between them. B felt ready to tip his chair into a backward fall if the hand came any closer.

”I know what I’m doing. I know how to work this.” A said to C, trying to convince them. C just shook their head.

”We have to get [healer] back. We don’t have time…” A’s voice turned soft too, wavering as they met C’s teary eyes. They held each other's gaze and B could swear there was something passing between them without words. Honestly though, even if there was more to it, at that moment B wouldn’t catch it. His complete focus was on A’s hand, watching it drop slightly as the seconds drew out, and he could remember how to breathe again and relax a fraction.

A would never do anything against C's will.

”Ok. But I won’t stay to watch.” C said and B could feel his stomach drop to the floor.

A just gave them a nod as C turned towards the door.

”No…” B whispered in stunned shock at C's back, and when they didn’t stop he raised his voice, desperation clawing its way through his throat.

”No, please! Don’t let them do-” The door slammed shut, cutting him off and leaving him alone with A. His eyes snapped back to them. He hadn’t felt this afraid, this desperate in a long time, but he recognized it well. His heart was hammering furiously inside him and his chest tightened so it became hard to breathe again. He looked on as A redid the cut in their palm, making new drops of blood pour out.

”No, no, no, please. You don’t have to do this. I don’t know…”

A finally looked up, their eyes were so dark, even though they were blue. How could blue eyes be so dark?

”Please, anything but this. I’ll tell… I’ll tell you anything, just, please, just don’t…” B trailed off. He hated that it sounded like he was pleading for his life, usually he would care, die inwardly off shame, but he was lost in fear of what was to come. What could be worse than death.

”I’d love to hear you beg some more…” A’s voice was low now, almost a purr. There was something so familiar in it. And B knew he was lost.

”But I need answers.”

And with that A slammed their bloody hand into B’s chest and his whole body dissolved into icy blinding pain.

#whump #magic whump #a and b characters #interrogation #restrained #captive whumpee #tied down #tied to a chair #c and d characters #because I couldn't stop at just two #blood #blood magic #please tell me if i need to tag anything else!

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tuz-on-ao3 · 3 years

Note

Hey, I was reading your fic (I really like it by the way! Sasuke's, my favorite character, and I think you wrote him really well :D), and I was wondering, what's your writing process? I know everyone has something different that works for them, but how do you plan out your chapters, or get ideas, or things like that (very vague, I know, I'm sorry)?

Hiiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!!! Thank you sugar plum for reading Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done and liking my characterization of Sasuke, it’s very heartwarming and I appreciate it.

As for my writing process, oof. As you know everyone’s writing process is really different and it has been a joy to learn more about other people’s process to help figure out what works for me. This is something you can absolutely cherry pick with and try things out for the first time.

Timing: some people write better at certain points during the day, some people can start writing at 5am or write till 3am in the morning with a late start. I am a mix of both. I can start writing around 9am because that’s when my internal ticker is like “Let’s go to work now!” It’s just how my school and internship schedule line up. I also just write when I am bored(while in class sometimes) and late at night if I really have the momentum. Which happened for some of the chapters I have written for Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done. So figure out what works for you. Also, timing myself sometimes helps, I use Pomodoro as a way to keep track of my work, I don’t necessarily take my short breaks.

Initial phase of writing: I draft first and I backwards outline as I go along and then I hit a wall. The idea circulates in the back of my mind and I either get a sense of a scene or a situation that I want the characters to go into and I start writing. Writing the story informs me where it’s going to go, it comes to me during the process. However, I will hit a wall. The fics I write are rarely short(shoutout to the people who can do short and sweet, your sense of pacing is unreal and I bow to your greatness) so there is a lot of worldbuilding, plot, and character development that needs to happen. Important thing to note, just because you are writing fanfiction doesn’t mean you can skip worldbuilding. It is very important!!!!!! It doesn’t need to be the crazy amount that I do but you need to set your reader up in a place and time so give some context.

Timeline: Things happen at certain places and times, and my characters will be a certain age when it happens, so I need to keep track. One of the walls I’ve hit is that for my current posted fic Sasuke spends time in jail, but how much time was not made clear in my non existent early planning and that changes the way things happen. And how old he is, and how much time should I spend on that prison sentence. If it was a long time then I need to talk about it as a life event that will have consequences throughout the entire fic, or if he was just detained until his lawyers came that changes Sasuke’s character. It also is a good way to talk about the criminal justice system of Konoha that I am making up. So I keep track of everyone’s ages, and birthdays, and sometimes I change them. I mean it is really hard for me to write baby ninja that go out into the battlefield when they are four years old and not make the entire fic about a shitty world like that. I don’t want to do that, it’s too fucking hard, and fluff feeds my soul. Also, seasons!!! That changes the way you set up your environment as well, from what I can tell Fire Country should have a monsoon season since they are so forested and are located near the equator of their world. So when that happens, if I decide to include that, is important for pacing of the story. I mean how long should this go on? Also, romance in the rain *hitn hint wink wink* who knows.

Outlining: I didn’t use to be an outline and to some extent I still am not. I have done a previous post explaining a little bit of it but I backwards outline to keep track of what is happening because it’s a lot of detail and I don’t want to make mistakes. However, spreadsheets are my jam. I didn’t use to be this way but my internship has changed me and now I like spreadsheets as a way to be organized. Huzzah *throws confetti in the air* to being a boring adult person! There are a couple of way to do this but first actual writing notes:

5 commandments of story

Inciting incident

Progressive complications

Crisis

Climax

Resolution

This is something that helped me a lot when it came to structure, because sometimes my plot points are all happening at the same time and I’m like this makes no goddamn sense, what is happening. Story Grid is a podcast, and a book, and a website that can help you talk about structure. They can also talk to you about the Hero's journey. Take or leave whatever works for you because a lot of their stuff doesn’t work for me. But in doing their spreadsheets and exercises I learned what doesn’t work in a story. It’s how I realized pacing was a problem in my writing, and that I needed to take time away.

So they have sample spreadsheets that break down books into scenes, turning points, characters on stage, etc. Take what works and leave what doesn’t.

Back to spreadsheets, I have a story grid one for Maybe I’m Paying for the Things I’ve Done which I will backwards outline for the chapters I have already posted and a weird visual index card thing with the five commandments on my computer to help me figure out what is happening in my story.

It looks kind of like five boxes side by side with the five commandments written on each one.

Sometimes there is more than one box for progressive complication and that is fine, it is also fine if every scene you write doesn’t have a resolution, because by the end of the fic you will have one. I split this up by chapter, expected word count, POV.

Word count: Some people care about this, some people don’t. I don’t write stuff for ‘Maybe’ that is less than 10000 each chapter, there is way too much going on in the fic to do short chapters. For my other works in progress I find that I will be writing shorter, which is both easier and harder because it needs me to be concise and clear. Anyway, I do take notes from Story Grid in this because 50% of my words have to be for my middle build, while 25% each go to the opening hook and to the ending payoff. A scene is about 1200-2000 words.

Wiggle Room: Shit happens, you don’t do as much one day and you do a lot another. It’s okay, your story will evolve at certain points, it will tell you what to do. Don’t worry about it that much.

Struggle/villainy: Protagonists are often defined by their antagonists, and if that is the type of story you are writing make sure you spend just as much time on the villain of your story as you do the hero. They are major actors and deserve the attention. When I talk about the Akatsuki I am thinking that they are an international terrorist organization hellbent on kidnapping people that are systematically treated as weapons. There are a lot of moving parts for this. Also the characters themselves, Pein and Konana are radicalized in my story from peaceful revolutionaries to violent ones because they watched the leader of an institution murder their best friend, that will cause personal and political damage. It informs the way I write them or will.

Sasuke's struggle isn’t necessarily against a person, it is against himself. He wants a home because when he was little the one place where he felt safe was violated by his own brother, that is a hell of a trauma. Then he left his former home to go to Oto. Place has a huge part to play in Sasuke’s characterization and I tag homemaking in my fic because I want to show the process of creating a home for yourself as a process of revival and change and hope and vulnerability. It is a huge emotional labor of love and will be a focal point in the fic. That’s why I spend so much time talking about these goddamn renovations and art deco, it matters. This is a boy who has traveled all over the world and is now trying to put all the pieces of himself into one place, how he does it will be incredibly revealing of his characters.

Character: Emotional arcs are important for everyone. Try to figure out what your character is going to go through. It helps so much. Victoria Schwab asks her characters three questions:

What do they fear?

What do they want?

What are they willing to do to get what they want?

See if this helps. Also, understand that you got to develop your side characters as well, they act as a foil for the main character and add richness to the story, you will notice if they are flat. Understand the dynamics they bring to the story and to the world. Are they a woman in a field that is more socially acceptable for men? How does that affect them? What does gender look like in this world and how does this affect your characterization? Have they gone through physical/emotional trauma? Because that shit will keep coming up in a story, healing takes time. Also this is a fanfic, do whatever you want honey bear.

Vocab: the lovely @slexenskee told me to have a running doc of vocabulary and I am trying to do that.

I also have a running doc for a fic/character where I put all my brainstorming, little scenes, lines, vibes, questions into. And a doc for the synopsis of any new fic ideas I get.

Inspiration: Read, a lot. I read fics, I read fiction and fantasy books, I read non fiction and I read about other people’s writing process. I read the news, I read twitter threads, I read random quotes on Pinterest. I watch tv shows and take note of how they do characterization or pacing or plot. I listen to music, I couldn’t live without it. I am on Pinterest looking for vibes or aesthetics for my fics. When I first started writing, since my fic was inspired by another fic, I was worried it would be too similar, that worry is fading because I am doing more writing, and more reading as well. But you must consume culture in order to produce it. Also take breaks, sometimes you figure stuff out if you leave it alone or talk to friends about it. If you reach out to me about it, I will do my best to help so feel free.

IMPORTANT: DO NOT BE A RACIST/HOMOPHOBIS/TRANSPHOBIC/MISOGYNIST. UNDERSTAND THAT WHEN YOU WRITE A FANFICTION THE CHARACTERS ARE CODED IN A CERTAIN WAY. DON’T GO AROUND MAKING PEOPLE OF COLOR WHITE OR MORE LIGHT SKINNED THAN THEY ARE. WOMEN AND NON BINARY PEOPLE EXIST ALWAYS, IF YOU ARE NOT WRITING THEM INTO YOUR WORLD THAT MEANS YOU ARE MARGINALIZING THEM IN YOUR WORLD AND IN YOUR MIND. IF YOU ARE CISGENDERED BE DAMN CAREFUL ABOUT WRITING TRANS NARRATIVES, PROBABLY DON’T. WHEN I DECIDED TO INCLUDE MY OWN CULTURE INTO SASUKE’S CHARACTER AND PAST I DIDN’T MEAN TO MAKE HIM LESS EAST ASIAN BUT TO ADD PARTS OF MYSELF TO THE WORLD. ACCEPT AND ADAPT TO CRITICISM COMING YOUR WAY IN THIS SENSE. I AM SURE YOU WILL BE FINE, THIS IS JUST A STANDARD DISCLAIMER.

This was really long, and I hope you won't mind. Thanks again for this question, and let me know how your writing goes. Also listen to Deadline City the podcast.

#answers #fic writing #process #naruto

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spamela-hamderson · 4 years

Note

For the prompt! “You’re jealous”

For you ao3 link

:::

Robert comes up with the plans. It’s been this way for as long as he can remember; he used to plan minor distractions outside of the house when he was younger, so he could get a few minutes alone to dismantle a beloved home appliance with his mind while everyone else was out searching for a missing flock.

He’d come down once the coast was clear, with his trusty notebook in hand (to track his progress) and Victoria’s old baby blanket tied around his neck (‘WizKid’ scrawled across it in blue paint; he’d still wanted to be a superhero then), and get to work.

The problem, as it has always been, is that Robert never was the best at executing said plans.

You see, the plan was always to dismantle the appliance, and then put it back together in its previous condition. But he never quite managed that. As it turned out, building a working machine was a lot harder than taking it apart. And by the time he remembered that, someone would catch on to Robert being the only one not with them and rush back into the house, too late, to find bits of metal strewn over the countertop and footsteps banging back up the stairs.

:::

He succeeded just once before having to leave home. Slapped the radio back into form, (sans make-shift cape; he’d long grown out of it by then) and apart from a mystifying minute of ticking every time you pressed play, it had worked fine.

A month after that, he would play a stupid game with his stupid brother, wouldn’t be able to save Max King and would be sent away for not being worthy of his powers.

:::

Aaron had been planned as well.

Well. Sort of.

Robert had made his debut into the criminal underworld with a series of small jobs that went without a hitch. But things got complicated once he’d set his sights on riskier targets.

On his own, his powers and charm only got him so far. He needed someone who would watch his back. Someone who would help him finish what he set out to do.

What he needed, he thought, was his very own henchman.

The prospects had trickled through in stops and starts. Some, Robert worried were too stupid to keep up with him, and others, in their comic book villain ensemble and annoyingly peculiar affectations, were clearly too interested in a fantasy that Robert didn’t have the patience for. It was the exceedingly normal ones, however, who had unsettled Robert the most.

(Sanity is an illusion in their line of work. The really messed up ones, the sort who carved into innocents for fun in their underground dens of torture, were also the ones who seamlessly weaved mundanity through their to-do-list of horrors: calling out a neighbourly hello through the kitchen window as they scrub blood from under their fingernails, taking a ten-minute break from their day job to look up large plastic tubs (big enough to fit an adult), and installing an entertainment system in said underground den of torture so they don’t have to miss strictly while laying out tools, scared whimpers harmonising with Gymnopédie No.1 and the cheers from the crowd.)

When Aaron had slammed out of their first meeting with a glare more frightening than the rough scar running down the length of his face, his permanently bruised knuckles clenched tight in a blazing fist, and dislike lining every inch of him, none of it hidden away, Robert had been ready to try trusting him with his life.

By the end of his first day at work, Aaron had expressed plain doubt that Robert was a card-carrying member of the League of Nefariousness (Robert had threatened to show him the framed letter of acceptance, hung at pride of place on his office wall). By day three he’d slammed him into a wall, snarling into his face, and Robert had had to come to terms with the very confusing situation in his pants. It took till the end of day four, after too many hours of covert staring, to admit that he might have a problem.

By his second week, when shit had hit the fan in the middle of what was meant to be a simple intelligence-gathering operation, and Aaron had taken charge, flipped the script, and saved his neck,—literally, from a very sharp knife—Robert realised he’d gone and found himself a partner instead of a henchman.

There was no way Robert could’ve prepared for him.

And that brings him back to his current plan of action.

:::

Robbing the science facility while the gala is in full swing at the first floor of the building, instead of doing it days after that as they had originally planned, will mean they’ll be working on a tight schedule from now on, he decides. And he’ll have to make a list of other changes as well, taking into account all the extra pairs of eyes that’ll be scuttling around at an event of this scale, and the tighter security that’ll come with it. But it’s better this way, really; Robert’s always preferred performing to an audience anyway. And if he wants to get the message out, he needs everyone watching.

They’ll make their move late into the evening. Give the guests enough time to get bladdered, and the security complacent. It’ll work out, Robert decides.

Besides, he deserves a posh night out. It’s been months of clandestine weapons trades in grimy warehouse buildings and stopping for bad takeaway on the way back from rooftop shootouts, leaning heavy against Aaron under the guise of exhaustion. He wants an excuse to wear a suit and polish off flutes of champagne while he’s at it.

But the upper crust only ever throws their parties—with diamonds dripping down necks and camera crews parked outside to greet them—for Heroes. Nevermind that they’re also the ones secretly bankrolling half the evil schemes in play across the city on any given day.

Robert wonders if Aaron will let himself be talked into wearing a suit. He knows he won’t do it just because he’s asked, and Robert can make up a reason, tell him it’s an essential part of the plan, but Aaron’s got quite the knack for sniffing out his bullshit.

He sighs, feeling sorry for himself all over again, and watches a boxy suit jacket take form over his little digital doodle of Aaron running down the side of the updated plan on a loop, a mock-up of him on his way to empty out a heavily guarded vault, eleven floors below ground, where 35 grams of rare dryadrium is being stored; More than three times the amount Robert needs to finish building his killer robot prototype. But staring at doodle-Aaron’s over-serious eyebrows makes his chest too heavy to ignore, so he gives up and slumps back into his seat noisily, away from his tablet.

He lasts about six seconds before sending the offending item flying off the table and into his palm, a new window already open (and sharing the screen with his list) to the paparazzi shot of Aaron and the Red Rider for him to glower down at. He’s never been one for self-restraint.

COFFEE DATE WITH MYSTERY LOVER!

Will the darling of justice Red Ride off into the sunset with his new bad-boy?

To the undiscerning eye, Robert supposes they might look undeniably involved. They’re stood so close it’s amazing the two disposable cups of coffee clutched between them haven’t spilt, the Red Rider’s hands are around Aaron’s upper arms like he’s pulling him in for a hug, and his smile might be described as teasing, by some (Robert just thinks it makes him look like a tit).

But Robert sees right through it. He recognises the street they’re pictured on as the one between the abandoned power station they work out of and the cafe closest to it. The article mentions they were spotted yesterday morning. Probably right after Aaron had picked up their usual order of one americano and one regular coffee with a splash of milk, same as he does on the days he comes in before ten.

While Red‘s got his meticulously focus-grouped smile in place, Aaron looks totally baffled by him (though the article tries to pass it off as starstruck). And why wouldn’t he be? That is a lot of red lycra to take in before you’ve had your morning coffee.

So yes, Robert knows it’s stupid for him to be feeling so strongly about this photo when there’s clearly no truth behind what it’s saying. But he can’t help but find it extremely unfair that it’s the Red Rider who gets to be paired off with Aaron (even if it’s only in the eyes of bored commuters looking for a bit of morning gossip to get them through the day) when Robert’s the one wreaking glorious havoc across the city with him.

Of course, it’s not like the public knows who Aaron is.

But still. Of all people. It had to be a Hero. Ugh.

Thus, the plan. And he can’t wait to see it play out, too. The darling of justice, dancing the night away at a gala held in his honour, while 1.7 million pounds worth of precious metal gets swiped from right under his nose. Robert sneers down at the crude stick figure of the Red Rider sketching itself into existence, tears shooting out of his eyes in black dashes of ink as his adoring crowd turns away in disgust.

:::

He’s so busy trying to glare a hole into Red’s smiling face without accidentally blowing the tablet to bits, he almost misses the low hiss of the lab doors sliding open behind him. He blinks and the window closes, leaving him with only the details of the new plan to stare at, just as Aaron plunks his coffee in front of him.

He also gets a tired nod, a non-verbal hi as Aaron makes his way around the table, and already Robert feels better about the day.

He manages a mumbled thanks back, somewhere between grabbing at the cup and tilting its contents onto his tongue. It’s too hot to drink comfortably still, even after having weathered the icy spring air on its way here. He leans his mouth against the lid of the cup instead and thinks about Aaron seeping warmth back through its walls with his hands.

“You’re sure these are microwave safe, yeah?” he asks, eyes blinking wide in false innocence, but doesn’t hold back his chuckle at the devastating judgement he gets for it. He’d watched Aaron blow up his lunch once, food and cracked pieces of a bowl all over him and the floor, and hasn’t shut up about it since.

“Right, I’ll leave you with cold coffee next time then, shall I?” Aaron says. His voice is still rough with morning disuse.

Robert puts his coffee back on the table so he can rest his chin on his palm and look up at Aaron. It brings him a little closer to him. “You wouldn’t. I’d moan on about it too much.”

“You’d be a nightmare,” he agrees, smiling behind his own cup. He’s just finished folding himself onto the only other chair in the lab in a way Robert can’t imagine to be comfortable, coffee cradled close to his chest, when he snaps his fingers. A small flame floats over his thumb. He slumps even further into his chair.

Aaron bears his power like a spare limb tucked away too tight and always too long, even if it’s only been minutes, never fully comfortable until he can stretch it out, feel it break apart from the perimeters of his skin and breath on its own.

They watch it skip lazily across the back of his fingers and weave through them for a moment.

“Has Tate said what she wants from us?” Aaron asks.

Robert feels his stomach begin to sink. “That’s today?”

Aaron raises his eyebrows at him. “She’s sending her driver to pick us up at 10, Robert. Remember?”

Robert thunks his head against the table and groans. They don’t have the time for whatever Tate wants. At this rate, they’ll be stumbling through the job unprepared, and Red will come swooping in to save the day, and they’ll be the laughing stock of the city, another notch in Red’s shiny, crime-fighting belt, and Aaron will leave him for being a screw-up.

Robert groans louder.

“Robert?”

He takes a second more to hide behind his arms, then pulls himself back up.

Aaron’s hand is half extended towards him, his flame extinguished and his eyes worried.

No. He wants this to work. He wants the world to see them together, see that they work. It might not be as Robert and Aaron, not to anyone else. Maybe not even to Aaron. But it’ll be close enough.

Robert leans back into his chair to pull his phone out from inside his trouser pocket. He can fix this.

“How about we cancel the meeting with Tate?” he says, but he’s already typing out a ‘Something’s come up, can’t do today’ to send to her.

“You what?” Aaron laughs.

“You never liked her anyway.” Aaron had dragged his feet when they’d first taken a job for her. She’ll start thinking she owns us, he’d said.

But Robert had insisted. They’d needed the money, then.

Aaron puffs his cheeks out. “I’m not complaining, mate. But she’s not gonna like it.”

“Eh,” Robert shrugs it off. They finished their last job with her, clean and simple, and they haven’t agreed to anything new. There’s no reason for any business to be left hanging between them.

“You gonna tell me why?” Aaron asks.

“We’ve got enough on our plate now.”

That gets a confused head tilt. “Do we?”

“About that. I was thinking–” he stops to roll his eyes at Aaron’s cheeky wince. “What if we broke into the facility on Saturday instead.”

The head tilt stays confused. “Before the gala?”

Robert shakes his head. “At the gala.”

Aaron huffs out an unsure laugh like he thinks Robert might be pulling his leg, then sobers when he sees he’s being serious.

“Why?” he wants to know. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing, I uh.” Right. A reason. “I thought about it, and it’s better this way.”

Aaron looks at him like he’s gone mad, which. Robert should’ve expected that, really. He takes a second to wonder why he hasn’t prepared a script for this.

“I don't…" Aaron squints at Robert like he’ll find an explanation on him somewhere if he looks hard enough. When that fails him, he searches blankly around the lab, perhaps looking for a clue to where he should even start.

Robert waits.

“This isn’t what we prepared for,” he lands on.

“It’ll be fine.” Robert will make sure of it. “I know the mechanics of the security set up around the vault like the back of my hand by now.”

It’s a precise clockwork of systems designed by a Swedish company, and it’s kept Robert up for weeks trying to puzzle it out.

Aaron nods his head slowly, like a man who’s had to endure long hours listening to Robert mumble to himself in increasing desperation in their shared office space.

“I’ll get you past it. Trust me.”

Aaron nods more readily at that, and Robert’s heart finds a moment in all this to skip a beat. He urges himself to get a grip.

“There’ll be more guards, yes, but the gala should keep them occupied for the most part. The new guards aren’t there to protect the dryadrium, Aaron. They’re there to keep the high profile guests safe.”

Aaron still doesn’t seem convinced. “There’ll be cameras everywhere. Ministers, Heroes, tycoons, journalists… How’re we meant to get in? Or out, for that matter.”

It’s then that the idea hits him. Oh, he thinks. I’m a genius.

“We won’t seem out of place if we pretend we’re just another two names on the guest list…”

And here’s the tricky bit. All he has to do is be light-handed with the delivery. Just throw it out there, nothing to it.

“…We’ll fit right in in a couple of suits.”

Aaron barely gives him a second to hope. “Yeah, no, we’re not doin’ it on Saturday, then.”

“Wh–”

“I’m not wearing a suit, Robert. Not unless I’m stood in front of a judge.”

“But–” Robert tries not to panic. “But you have to.”

“And why is that?” Aaron leans back into his chair, comfortable as ever, and slips both hands into the front pocket of his hoodie. “You haven’t said.”

Robert’s been hoping he won’t notice. “Well,” he starts. “It’s like you said. There’ll be loads of cameras there. And reporters from major news networks. It’s time we introduced ourselves to the people. Officially. Don’t you think?”

It’s time they learn you’re mine, he tries not to think.

Because it’s not true, however much he wants it to be. He’s not… they’re not…

There’d been that one time, sure, that one kiss–

(Gold light filtered over his skin, cutting through the shadows of his face and making his scar dance. Robert had seen seasoned criminals give Aaron a wide berth, everything about him screaming: get any closer and lose your teeth. Right then, watching him watch flames rise up into the night from what was left of the hideout he’d just tossed a giant ball of fire into (killing, in the process, a jumped-up mobster who hadn’t known his place), soft was the only word that fit.

The tension he’d accepted as a part of Aaron had bled out. His lips had fallen open around barely a hint of a smile, and his eyes… they were drooping down the sides a little, tired after a long fight but still lit up by the beauty of the destruction he wrought.

Robert couldn’t look anywhere else.

He saw his hand on Aaron’s cheek before he realised he’d put it there in the first place. The tips of his fingers reached past an ear and his thumb smoothed against the rough beard under it. There was no force behind the touch. He didn’t want to interrupt, he just… he wanted…

But Aaron had turned to him anyway. Unwaveringly steady, where Robert was starting to lose his grip.

He’d caught Robert then, with his heart beating outside his chest, and his eyes had lowered to his lips, asking for more.

And Robert had gone to him.)

–but they don’t talk about it.

Aaron watches him. “You’re up to something.”

Aaron can prove fuck all. Robert’s always up to something. He’s the man with the plan.

“It’s just… we’ve been doing this for half a year now. We’re good at it. We’re not common thugs, Aaron, we’re Supervillains. We’re going to snatch the world from them one day and they should at least get to know our names.”

Their names. Tethered to each other for the rest of their careers. Inferno and The Operator.

“No faces,” of course not, “but our signature on the scene of the crime. For a real audience, this time.”

They’ve been trying it out, a network of gears scorched into the ground or up a wall, but the powers that be have been able to keep it out of the papers somehow, credit for their work—at least the ones they haven’t been able to hide from the people altogether—being sloppily assigned to gang disputes. “Let’s stick our names under it as well. They’ll have to take notice, “ he says, grin turning wild at the thought.

He can tell Aaron’s starting to give in by the sulk settling in in his cheeks and around his mouth. “Don’t know why you had to wait till now to decide that,” he grumbles quietly, and then stops.

Robert allows himself a small smile at the victory. His tablet screen unlocks.

Aaron’s on board, and he’d known that would be the toughest hurdle to get over, but they still do need a way to get on the final RSVP list. Robert starts another list for that. He wonders if Leyla will know anything. She’s had some experience organising events like these in the past, before she was found out to have swindled millions of pounds from investors and had to leave the country. Or maybe they could comb through the building plans again. See if there’s another way for them to sneak in–

“You saw the article,” he hears.

The digital ink stops its frenzied scrawl across the screen. Instead, it quivers in place, forming a nervous-looking black blob at the end of a half-written letter. “Hm? Oh! You mean the one from the tabloid?” he says to the blob. “Think I saw someone reading it on the train.” He could stop there. He should. But of course, he doesn’t. “You two make a cute couple.”

“You’re jealous,” Aaron accuses.

(So maybe they don’t talk about the kiss, but sometimes they do talk around it.)

Robert doesn’t flinch. He looks over at Aaron, schooling his face into the picture of incredulity. “Of you?” he scoffs. “What, you think I’ve been secretly pining after the Red Rider all this time?” Robert laughs, shaking his head at that. He knows he’s overdoing it, just a touch, but that’s kind of the point.

It works. Aaron looks thrown off for a couple of beats, and then his face falls, before a carefully blank mask gets put up in its place. “What,” he says, mouth tight around the word.

Wait, no. “No, no, no, I’m not,” he rushes to assure Aaron, serious this time, and feels like he can breathe again once Aaron’s shoulders start to lower.

He almost regrets correcting him so quickly, with the way Aaron’s back to squinting at him and making Robert want to run.

After painful several silent minutes of Robert avoiding his gaze in favour of animating an illustration of the pair of them cackling next to a mountain of stolen dryadrium (aesthetically more impressive than drawing them cackling next to a small, 35 gram pile, however accurate), he peeks up just in time to catch Aaron scratch at his brow and shake his head at the table between them like he can’t believe this is what his life has come to. Robert relates deeply.

“It wasn’t–” Aaron gestures uselessly with his hand, turning pink in the face.

Robert watches him struggle. “What?” he asks, around the grin on his face.

Aaron’s glare might be more effective if he isn’t still blushing hard. “He walked right into me outside the cafe, and then he wouldn’t stop,” more gestures at his face, which is pulled into a grimace, “smiling.” He says this the way only he would when confronted with a too-friendly, (allegedly) good looking superhero: with confusion and a healthy amount of dread. Robert tries not to smile. “You know how they lose their heads over ‘im.” He shrugs like Robert hasn’t been moping and plotting all morning over this.

He’s got a point, though. The tabloids were dead set on the Red Rider hiding a secret family in Spain only last month. Two weeks after that, they were speculating on wedding colours after a picture of him chatting with a cashier at the grocer’s started circulating. Why he felt the need to do his shopping in his hero suit is anyone’s guess.

Also, Robert possibly spends too much time reading the tabloids.

Robert clears his throat. “I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Sure you weren’t.”

He doesn’t know why Aaron’s smirking quite so much, because it’s true. He wasn’t. Robert knows Aaron can do miles better than that self-important twat.

“And you deciding to rob the facility during the gala has nothing to do with the Red Rider being there, yeah?”

“As if,” Robert says, verging on petulant. “This really is the best chance we’ve got of getting our names out,” he insists, which is also true. And that’s when another thought hits him. Oh, he thinks. You idiot.

Because what if being professionally tied to him is the last thing Aaron wants for himself? They’ll be sharing more than headlines. They’ll be sharing successes, failures, enemies. And even if (when an uncharitable voice in his head injects) Aaron decides one day that he’s had enough of dealing with him, the consequences of their partnership will stick with him.

“We can wait, if,” Robert shrugs glumly, “this isn’t something you want.” He hopes he doesn’t sound too miserable. “If you think we’re going too fast, or–”

“I already agreed to it, you muppet,” Aaron informs him. “But if you’ve changed your mind again,” he rolls his eyes, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “guess it saves me having to buy a suit.”

“I’ll buy you the suit.” Robert doesn’t need Aaron staring back at him in surprise to know how quickly he’d said that, and how embarrassingly low and rough his voice had gone then.

An eternity passes before Aaron finally mumbles out a “Sure, whatever,” at the table, his cheeks pinking again.

“Yeah,” Robert starts, eager to salvage some of his dignity. “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s go over some of the other details.” He lets his tablet float to the middle of the table and resolves to not look at Aaron, or his twitching lips, or his knowing looks, for the next 15 minutes at least. He has a plan to perfect.

#robron #theirdarkmaterials #*mine: fic #emmerdale

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satonthelotuspier · 4 years

Text

Day 7 of Xichengclipse is here, and we’re almost done!

This turned a little away form the original concept into wanting to explore how societal pressures affect JC's notion of himself. He has this role he has to play in canon, especially young jc, the sect heir, the more sensible one to WWX's shenanigans, and I wonder if he ever found that stifling. I wanted to take a look at what that might mean in a different verse.

Lotus Lakes In Spring

Lan Xichen has suddenly started working late every night, and Jiang Cheng, insecure at the best of times, is imagining the worst. Although he had thought they had developed feelings for each other theirs was still a match of convenience, tying to powerful families together, and perhaps he's has enough of Jiang Cheng.

How far away from the truth is he? His therapist suggests there's only one way to find out - communication in relationships is key.

Featuring a JC struggling with societal expectations and his own nature, and a misunderstood LXC who's taking some matters into his own hands.

“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng assured, except it really wasn’t. It wasn’t fine. They hadn’t spent any time together for weeks because Lan Xichen had been working constantly, and this afternoon was just another call to excuse himself from dinner, because he’d be working at the office until into the evening again.

It was a herculean effort, but he killed the needy keen in his voice; an omega begging for attention from his mate might sound cute in theory, but Jiang Cheng hated that he was so weak to the natural reaction.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow evening then, I have to be up early for a conference across town, so I need to go to bed early tonight.” He didn’t sound terribly pathetic, but it was a close thing.

“Sleep well, Wanyin, I’ll be quiet when I get in, so that I don’t wake you.”

He could feel the wetness behind his eyes, but worked hard to keep it out of his voice.

“Thank you, Xichen.”

With a few more pleasantries they ended the call, and Jiang Cheng stared at the bright-screened mobile in his hand.

Was Lan Xichen growing bored of him? Their relationship was complicated, no doubt, it wasn’t any secret that their match had been a power move, two of the biggest families in Suzhou, united in an act of politically motivated showmanship.

But Jiang Cheng had thought they had come to care for each other, despite neither having been the other’s choice. Lan Xichen was a kind and caring man, and an attentive alpha mate, and Jiang Cheng tried his best to be a good omega. Despite his quick temper, neediness, and easily embarrassed nature, he did try to be as good to his alpha as Lan Xichen was to him.

Perhaps with mixed results.

And that must be why the other was pulling away, having had enough of having to pander to him, to address the flaws in his character, and yes, in his body.

Jiang Cheng whined low in his throat, as he acknowledged the white elephant in the room. It must be, in part, because their matings hadn’t taken yet. Despite numerous heats shared together, he had yet to become pregnant. He was failing in an omega’s most basic function, and powerful dynasties, like the families they both came from, required heirs, and he wasn’t providing.

What was the point in bringing an omega into the family if he couldn’t breed?

Lan Xichen said it didn’t matter, things would happen in their own time, but that was just Lan Xichen, being nice, paying lip service. If it wasn’t an issue why was it in every gossip magazine? Every tabloid newspaper?

Taunting headlines about separate bedrooms and a lack of intimacy between the Lan heir and the Jiang heir, married for convenience, to further two powerhouses of political and economic might, but cold and distant with each other.

Until a few weeks ago they couldn’t have been further from the truth, he had fallen asleep in his husband’s arms every night, and they shared a full and mutually satisfying sex life, even outside of his heat cycles.

He was assured by the specialists he had consulted that there was no physical reason for it, that everything was in perfect working order; Lan Xichen had even supported him, attended the appointments with him, even submitted himself to a physical examination and tests to ensure there was no problems on his side either.

Jiang Cheng had been pleased to find that out that the kidnapping he had suffered as a young adult had left him with no lingering effects other than a pervasive fear of the dark.

Which meant it was him. He wasn’t broken medically, he was just broken.

Had Lan Xichen gone back to the lover he had stopped seeing in readiness for their marriage? Had he finally had enough of a mate that didn’t provide the things he should?

Who could blame him? Maybe these were the first tentative steps towards divorce?

He unlocked his phone and dialled.

“Wen Qing, can I talk to you?”

“I’m not your therapist, A-Cheng.”

“Your monthly invoice says differently. You’re damned expensive for someone who isn’t,” he snapped, and she snorted.

“I have a client in half an hour, but I’ll give you a call before I go home. It will be around five, alright?”

He agreed and they hung up.

***

He tried to process her advice that night as he lay in the bath he had taken to try and relax a little. The gist of their conversation had said he could drive himself silly with the what ifs, the suppositions, and the only way he’d get any closure on the issue was to ask Lan Xichen directly.

And that he should also talk to the other about his needs, that he missed the other and wanted attention.

Out of the two, Jiang Cheng thought the latter was the least likely to pass his lips. How pathetic would it make him seem to be begging his own husband for attention?

He was that pathetic though, he really, really wanted to.

He bathed, changed for bed, and, ensuring the small lamp near his side of the bed was on, settled down to sleep in a bed that seemed all too empty, because Lan Xichen wasn’t in it beside him.

***

It must have been the sound of the thunder that awoke him, as he shot upright in bed, and began to panic. The room was pitch dark, and he felt his chest tightening and his breathing speeding to shallow pants in immediate reaction to the darkness. He mewled; a lost child. It was oppressive, and closing in on him ever faster.

“Wanyin?” Lan Xichen’s voice sounded, clear and soothing by his ear. “Damn.” There was some scrabbling around, then a flare of light in the darkness. “Here, take this, baby.” Lan Xichen’s phone, with the torch function on full, was pressed into his shaking hands, and he waved it wildly around the room, checking in the shadows while the other gave him space to ensure he was safe.

Eventually he calmed enough to accept Lan Xichen’s arms around him, as he was pulled into the other’s lap and hugged tightly.

“You’re safe, sweetness, you’re safe here with me.” Lan Xichen kept up the steady, soft, stream of reassurance, stroking his hair and kissing wherever his lips landed until Jiang Cheng regained some measure of control over himself.

He didn’t have quite enough to control his tongue, however, “Don’t leave me, Xichen, please don’t leave me. I’m trying so hard to be better for you. I am.”

The stroking hand paused, then slid to his shoulders and held him away from Lan Xichen’s chest so the other could look at him, “What do you mean, Wanyin? Of course I’m not going to leave you, I know you don’t like the dark, it’s not a surprise to me. I’ll hold you until dawn or the power comes back on. I don’t mind.”

“B-but you’re avoiding me. You’re staying at work all the time now, like you don’t want to be with me, or you’re seeing someone e-else.” It could only be described as a wail, and Jiang Cheng hated himself for it, but he couldn’t stop now the dam had burst. “I kn-know I haven’t given you heirs yet, but I’m trying my b-best.”

“Wanyin? Why…” Lan Xichen sucked in a breath, then moved his hands up to cup his face gently, “you silly thing, we’ve discussed this again and again. I don’t care. It will happen when it happens, or it won’t, and that’s fine too,” Lan Xichen’s thumbs rubbed over Jiang Cheng’s cheeks, wiping away the tears, “I’m working late because I’m trying to clear my schedule early, before your next heat cycle. I’ve been looking for places we can get away from the city and take it easy for a while, and you might relax enough to enjoy yourself a little more, instead of worrying incessantly about something that is so completely out of your control.”

Of course, Lan Xichen’s words only made him cry harder, and try to wrap himself around the other.

“And how could I consider seeing someone else? Who would ever match up to my beautiful omega? No one else smells of lotus and soft spring rain on a lake like you, no one else has that fiery, challenging gaze for me,” Lan Xichen feathered his lips against Jiang Cheng’s jawline, and he preened at the praise falling from the other’s lips, hmming his approval, “and no one else would look half as divine spread across our bed, tousled and well-loved and marked so completely as mine, as you do.”

Jiang Cheng growled, “Yes, I want that, show me, alpha, Xichen, show me I’m yours.”

Lan Xichen pulled the torch phone out of Jiang Cheng’s hands, and placed it besides them, so it still cast a glow, and pushed forward to pin the other beneath him. “As my omega wishes.”

***

Jiang Cheng lay back against the unfamiliar-smelling bed, while Lan Xichen rubbed gently at the arch of his right foot. He had never considered his feet erogenous zones but the way Lan Xichen touched him, anywhere, everywhere, so possessively, so soothingly, with such an intent to relax, to make love to. He made a soft, light sound of delight, surrender, and contentment in his throat, which was mirrored by a more aggressive sound in his alpha’s.

The bed would soon be flooded in the scent of their pheromones, overwhelming whatever neutral washing agent the hotel used, when his heat hit in earnest.

But at the moment he was riding it’s edge, extremely sensitive, a little excited, by the nearness of his alpha, but too relaxed to move. That would change soon enough, but he intended to enjoy this for as long as he could.

He was so lucky, to be this cared for, to be this precious to someone. He still felt so guilty that he had suspected Lan Xichen of having an affair, when the other had been working hard to provide an environment where the mate he knew was so tense and stressed about their inability to fall pregnant, could relax, let go, and forget about the newspapers, the pressure of his family, and just enjoy what should, after all, be a pleasure-filled few days, worshipped by his alpha, like any beautiful omega should be.

“I love you.” The words were out before Jiang Cheng realised, and he would have slapped a hand over his mouth, but the deep, pleased, possessive sound that came from Lan Xichen’s throat made his toes curl.

He felt a flush of heat begin to run through every nerve ending in his body at the same moment Lan Xichen released his ankle, and moved between his lifted knees, almost more tuned in to Jiang Cheng’s heat than he was himself. He looked dangerous, and hungry as he lowered his head to mouth at the pulse pounding at Jiang Cheng’s throat as the room flooded with the smell of lotus lakes in spring.

“Love you too,” he raised his head briefly to reciprocate, before returning back to sucking a mark against Jiang Cheng’s throat.

***

It had been a wonderful idea, to take this away from the city, from all the factors pressing expectation down on Jiang Cheng, and they decided to stay for a day longer than Lan Xichen had originally planned, as they were both exhausted after a very pleasurable heat spent worshipping each other.

It became a regular thing, and it was no surprise to Lan Xichen, who had theorised privately, that it was probably the stress of expectation and regard on Jiang Cheng, that was causing the problems, that it wasn’t too many heats later that they were cuddled on their bed together awaiting the results of the chemist-bought pregnancy test Jiang Cheng had purchased on his way back from the office earlier that evening.

He had sat through so many hopeful tests himself, only to have them come back negative, Jiang Cheng was almost too terrified to look after the required time. He hadn’t wanted to expose Lan Xichen to this side of him, the failed omega, desperate to fulfil his purpose and obsessed with his inability to do so, but he felt that this time, even if it was negative he was in a better place to deal with that, with his alpha, his mate, his husband, by his side.

It was positive, however, and it was a long time before Jiang Cheng was coherent enough at the news to discuss it with Lan Xichen, who held him close as he went from elated to terrified and back again over and over again.

The feelings only abated a little that night in bed, where they lay together in the soft sheen of the lamp behind Jiang Cheng, talking about their future.

“You’ll have to cut back on those ridiculous coffees you drink, baby.” Lan Xichen teased him gently, and Jiang Cheng frowned unhappily.

“Ugh, but where are the gossip mags going to get their photos from if I don’t go to the coffee shop?” He grinned suddenly, “I can’t wait to maternity it up, they are going to get so many baby bump shots. Infertile, separate beds, hah,” he ground his teeth in irritation, then forgot it just as quickly as he went through another plateau of delight at the thought their child growing tenaciously in his belly.

#xichengclipse2020 #xicheng #alpha/beta/omega verse #mpreg #struggling to become pregnant #mdzs fanfic #Shay's stuff

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yourfaceislikeabluemoon · 5 years

Text

3-Ways Are All Fine And Dandy Until Someone Catches Feelings ~ Part 4

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 5 | Part 6

Lust Covered Cherry Blossoms

Words: 2345

Warning: Biting (duh), kitten kink, dirty talk, slight degradation, blowjob, cum play, bareback (condoms are boring in smut, be safe kids!), and as usual very strong language. This is just straight up filthy bxb smut so fair warning, read at your own risk!

A/N: Ngl, I like this chapter, a lot. Guilty hehe. But yeah, I hope you enjoy, it’s a lot lmao

The first time Hoseok and Changkyun were away after you had made the relationship official, they had no clue how to act normal—being unusually handsy, excessively teasing each other, their typical clinginess dramatically heightened, caused the other boys to suspect something was going on that they didn’t know about. After a while, they were bound to find out or, at the very least, ask questions, but that was future Hoseok and Changkyun’s problem. The problem right now consisted of them both missing you, but Hoseok was craving attention and Changkyun seemed to be too tense to even notice Hoseok’s loneliness. Luckily, they were rooming together, otherwise things would’ve been much more complicated.

Changkyun was lounging on one of the beds, mindlessly flipping through the channels, but not paying attention to whatever he randomly landed on. Hoseok’s voice brought him out of the weird daze he didn’t know he was under, “Kkukkung, you’ve been so distant all day. Are you ok?”

“‘m fine.” He mumbled in response, changing his position so he was facing the TV with his legs stretched out and his arms behind his head, supporting it.

“Are you sure? You seem really tense. I’m worried about you.” Hoseok tilted his head, studying the younger man intently; Changkyun didn’t answer, he only grunted stubbornly. The small smile on Hoseok’s lips transformed into a smirk as he crawled over the bed to get off and saunter over to Changkyun, “Now I know you’re tense because you only get this stubborn when you’re tense, what’s got you like this?”

“Just a lot going on.” Changkyun’s brief, vague, reply made Hoseok roll his eyes.

“Well, that doesn’t tell me much. Do you need your shoulders rubbed or something? Want me to order room service?”

Changkyun frantically waved him off, “I’m trying to watch my show.”

The older man chuckled, “You don’t even know what ‘your show’ is. I have an idea that could maybe ease some of your stress.”

“Yeah, ok,” Changkyun mumbled sarcastically, eyes immediately widening when Hoseok slung his leg over him and cautiously sat in his lap, “What are you doing?” He whispered to the man perched on his thighs.

Smirk still present on his face, Hoseok leaned forward to brush his lips against the shell of Changkyun’s ear, “What does it look like I’m doing? I already told you, I’m trying to be a good hyung and relieve your stress.” He nipped at the younger man’s earlobe, urging a hushed moan to slip past his parted lips, “Any requests?” He asked before leaving a sloppy trail of kisses down the side of Changkyun’s neck.

His back arched at the sensation of Hoseok nibbling at a sensitive area under his ear, something he now wanted so desperately to do to him, “Let me mark you anywhere I want and as much as I want.”

He felt Hoseok smirk against his skin, “And what do you expect me to say to the makeup noonas when they’re trying to cover up your mess?”

Changkyun laughed airily, “It’s a beautiful mess, you’re not supposed cover up art.”

Hoseok scoffed, “I don’t think that’ll go over very well.” He bit at the younger man’s flesh especially hard prompting Changkyun to yelp out another moan and squirm under his weight, “Hmm, I see why you like biting so much. Such cute reactions.”

“Well, w-what am I going t-to - ahh! - say when they a-ask about, about my m-marks?” Changkyun stuttered out, already beginning to quiver with pleasure.

The older man hummed against his skin, “You’ll think of something.”

Instead of relinquishing control completely to Hoseok, Changkyun growled deeply and grabbed Hoseok’s hips sternly, “Okay, you’ve had your fun. It’s my turn now.” He successfully flipped them over so that Hoseok was underneath him and removed his own shirt before shimmying Hoseok’s up and off his muscular torso. Blindly throwing the articles of clothing over his shoulder, Changkyun was already breathless as he captured the older man’s lips in a heated, desperate kiss, Hoseok clung onto him in a hopeless effort to get even closer. “You’re like a cat, wanting so much attention, it’s cute,” Changkyun whispered, amusement evident in his hushed voice.

Hoseok stopped him suddenly, his mind wandered to you and what you would say; worry washed over his reddened face, “Should we actually be doing all this without her?”

Changkyun chuckled while gently pushing the hair out of the other man’s eyes, “Knowing her, she’d probably think it was ridiculously hot and be all for coupling up whenever we feel like it.”

“You’re probably right.” He smiled warmly, reaching up to Changkyun’s neck to pull him to his lips again.

The younger man hummed against his mouth, “We’ll have to skype her sometime so she can watch us. Would you like that? Knowing you’re on camera, would that make you hornier? Would it make you cum harder knowing someone was watching you?”

Hoseok’s back arched off the bed, his wanton moans muffled by their lips together, “Yes. Fuck yes. I’d cum so hard for you.”

Changkyun’s laugh turned carnal, “Maybe some other time. I want you all to myself right now, kitten.” His fingertips danced along Hoseok’s abs, teasing the sensitive skin at the waistband of his sweatpants as he sucked the older man’s tongue into his mouth, his thigh brushed over his hard, twitching cock. Hoseok whimpered and wound his fingers tighter in Changkyun’s waves; the younger man’s groan was muffled by their mouths sloppily moving together, too caught up in each other to care what kind of mess they were making.

He pulled away to nip at Hoseok’s jawline, bruising into the delicate skin the colors of lust covered cherry blossoms, lapping and kissing at the marks he left in his wake while slowly inching the waistband further down his hips to expose more perfect flesh, begging to be poisoned by his teeth. Hoseok squirmed under his grasp, whining at the lazy pace Changkyun was moving along his body, “Hurry, I want...you.” He breathed, yearning for much more than the younger man was currently giving him.

Changkyun, again, chuckled darkly, “So impatient, are we now, kitten? How about I make it so that you’re begging me to stop instead?”

Hoseok nodded eagerly, intently watching as he slid the material completely off, writhing once more as his aching cock was exposed to the over-air-conditioned atmosphere of the hotel room. Changkyun shoved the articles of clothing off the bed and grabbed one of Hoseok’s calves in each hand, pushing his legs back until his knees were almost resting on the bed next to his head. The older man let out a breathy moan when Changkyun crudely spit at his entrance and smiled slyly, “No lube. Guess this is the way it has to be.”

“Why wouldn’t you pack that? That seems pretty important…” Hoseok struggled to speak, given his compromised position.

Changkyun squeezed at the supple flesh of Hoseok’s ass cheeks, smirking against his skin, “Well, it’s not like I expected some horny idiot to jump me! Why didn’t you bring it?”

Hoseok only huffed in response, toes curling when Changkyun finally began to lap at his hole. “Fuck,” he shivered, white-knuckling the sheets at his sides. Changkyun began to gradually loosen Hoseok up. “You— Fuck!” The older man shouted as Changkyun prodded at his prostate with his middle finger while sucking one of his balls into his mouth, “Oh god—” Hoseok whimpered, “You haven’t even touched my dick yet and I already feel like I’m gonna cum. What are you doing to me?”

The older man again felt Changkyun grin against him, “I already told you, making you beg for me to stop.”

Changkyun slipped another finger in Hoseok’s tight hole, causing him to gasp and drop his head back against the mattress, “Shit…” Hoseok squirmed, reaching up to clutch at Changkyun’s arm.

“Want me to stop yet, kitten?”

Hoseok shook his head and tried to urge Changkyun’s arm to move faster, “No. More. I want more…” He whined desperately, “God, please, more!”

Changkyun’s grin widened, loving how weak he made Hoseok, how well he listened, how cute he was when he begged for him—he loved every minute, “Does that feel good?”

“Yes…” Hoseok breathed, groaning deep in his chest, toes curling again as he felt his high fast approaching, “Hah, gonna cum!”

The younger man hummed, pulling out his fingers and sitting back on his legs, ceasing all stimulation, and Hoseok whimpered helplessly. Changkyun gently laid his legs back onto the bed, caressing the muscular flesh of Hoseok’s thighs; the older man’s ragged breathing began to slow, prompting Changkyun to lean forward to take his weeping cock into his mouth, once again encouraging Hoseok’s close release. Deep-throating him, Changkyun clutched at his hips while Hoseok writhed in pleasure underneath his weight, “But...I...wait--Ahh, fuck I’m gonna cum!”

Hoseok bucked up into Changkyun’s mouth; tears pricked at the younger man’s eyes as he gagged around Hoseok’s thick cock, nails digging deeper into his skin. He pulled away just before Hoseok could release and the whine that came out of him was the definition of sinful. Changkyun caved in, throwing all thoughts of edging him further out the window, setting Hoseok’s dick against his tongue and pumping it a few times before the older man came in his mouth, whispered curses tumbling from his bruised lips as he stared into Changkyun’s eyes and emotional tears began to blur his own vision.

“Shit…” He whispered as Changkyun closed his mouth and smirked. A devilish look flashed in his eyes as he crawled up next to Hoseok, the older man sat up weakly. Changkyun chuckled smugly, taking a seat in Hoseok’s lap and clutching his face in his hands, Hoseok’s parted lips provided the perfect opportunity to kiss them with his own. Changkyun’s surprise of not swallowing caused the older man to groan strongly, cum beginning to ooze out around their mouths as they moved in synch. They kissed for what seemed like hours, savoring the bitter taste of Hoseok’s cum between their wild tongues and swollen lips.

Changkyun pulled away, cum dribbled down both of their chins, and he smiled cunningly when he noticed the beautifully fucked out expression on Hoseok’s face. Changkyun trailed his fingers over Hoseok’s jawline, swiping up some of the sticky white substance that had escaped with his thumb and had the older man suck it off blissfully.

“I think you’ve got one more for me, kitten.”

Hoseok was feeling much too euphoric to protest to cumming a second time so close together so he just smiled weakly.

“On your hands and knees, now.” Changkyun wiped his mouth and got up to watch as the older man obediently obliged, wiggling his ass slightly and scooting back closer to Changkyun’s waiting cock, “So eager for my dick, huh?” Hoseok looked over his shoulder and nodded, biting his lip, “And not even the slightest bit ashamed about it, are you, cockslut?”

“No…” Hoseok whimpered, grinding back against Changkyun’s dick, still hidden behind the fabric of his underwear. “I’m not ashamed— I need you.”

Changkyun hummed, “‘Need me’? ‘Need me’ for what?”

“I need you to fuck me.”

Cock twitching in its confines at Hoseok’s blatant request, Changkyun clutched at the soft skin of Hoseok’s ass, dipping down to leave as many marks as he could over the expanse of his ass cheeks before grinding his tongue against the older man’s quivering hole, re-moistening it in place of lube to take his dick.

Hoseok whined at the sensation, his own cock quickly growing harder and harder by the second; his fingers wound around fistfuls of the sheets, “Please, take me already!” He practically screamed into the mattress.

Changkyun chuckled against him, “As you wish?” He slipped out of his boxers and spit into his hand, coating his dick with his saliva and readying himself at Hoseok’s entrance; the older man gasped loudly as he was filled to the brim. Changkyun leaned forward to nip marks into the skin of Hoseok’s neck and shoulders as he adjusted to the size. Heart pounding as the slight bit of pain subsided, Hoseok urged Changkyun to move, his own hips instinctively bucking to meet the younger man’s thrusts.

“So… good… fuck…” Hoseok moaned in time with Changkyun’s thrusts.

“That’s it, kitten.” Changkyun straightened up, “Taking me so well.” He admired the way his cock disappeared past Hoseok’s tight ring while whiny moans passed his own lips. Getting overwhelmed at how hot he found it, Changkyun immediately yanked Hoseok up flush against his chest to pound into him at a new angle.

Hoseok dropped his head back onto Changkyun’s shoulder, eyes slipping closed as he reached up to grip at the back of his neck, savoring the intense sensation when Changkyun’s fingers trailed over his dick. Again craving release, Hoseok began to thrust into Changkyun’s hand, matching the younger man’s pace, both of them nearing their end.

“Fuck, kitten, make me cum…” Changkyun groaned into his ear, Hoseok’s panting breaths almost drowning out his voice as he clenched around his cock. Changkyun’s nails dug into the older man’s hip and he bit at Hoseok’s shoulder to keep his shouts and moans at bay, stilling inside him as he painted his walls with his hot seed.

Changkyun swiped his thumb over Hoseok’s slit and he whimpered in response, fingers tangling in Changkyun’s hair once more. With a few more pumps, Hoseok clutched Changkyun’s wrist, with a strangled moan passing his lips, he came, hard, for the second time that night.

The two of them stayed in that position long enough to catch their breaths, both of them groaning at the overstimulation when Changkyun pulled out.

“Well, I guess we’re sleeping in my bed tonight,” Hoseok chuckled as he looked at the cum-covered sheets below him.

“I’d say mine is pretty well fucked,” Changkyun snorted, Hoseok hit him for the stupid joke and both of them headed off to clean up before returning to the clean bed to sleep away their evident exhaustion.

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wickedsrest-rp-archive · 4 years

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Name: Harsh Mishra Species: Vampire Occupation: Hospital Night Staff Age: 262 Years Old Played by: Diana Face Claim: Arjun Gupta

“Nice, nice, nice, goddamn, why is it so hard to be nice?”

There was nothing remarkable about Harsh Mishra. Nothing at all. He was a decent person, passable student, not the genius his parents were hoping for, but he wasn’t about to end up face down in a ditch. He was normal, boring, bored. Life was exhausting. Every clock was more like a countdown, watching the seconds tick by in his dead end job, his boring ass life. More and more drudgery, at least until he met Eleanor.

She was warm and bright, even if her hands were always cold and she never met him in the daylight. It didn’t take Harsh long to realize she wasn’t exactly normal. By the time he walked in on her, mug of blood in hand, he half expected it. They shared everything. After they had been together for a few years, Harsh offered up a vein and let her change him.

For years, it was perfect. Things were a bit more complicated with his new… condition, but Harsh found it easy enough to adjust with Eleanor at his side. It should have lasted forever, an eternity or more, but then the hunters came. The attack was senseless. Eleanor had never hurt a soul, and had never even considered it. But this particular family of hunters couldn’t care less. So Harsh and Eleanor ran until they couldn’t anymore. There was nowhere left to go, not for both of them anyway. Eleanor forced Harsh to go, promising to hold the hunters off and meet up again with him somewhere safe. He never saw her again.

The pain was indescribable, more than any soul could carry. So he tore it out. His soul was cast away, and with it, the pain. Everything faded. For years, he lost himself in it. A century, then two went by as he drowned himself in drink--blood and otherwise, and any warm body that looked his way. He killed some, turned others. None of it mattered much. There was no point, no goal, not anymore.

He would have gone on that way for another hundred years, maybe longer if not for a random act of chance. No, not chance: fate. The whirlwind of hedonism found him in an odd bar one night, a place marked by a truce, hunters and vampires alike leaving their aggression at the door to drink and talk and pretend they wouldn’t try to kill each other as soon as they stepped outside. A few curious names caught Harsh’s ears as a group of hunters reminisced. The names were long dead, great-great-great grandparents who lived to a ripe old age. Hunters who had tracked down two pathetic vamps a few hundred years ago, a worthless guy and a girl who had been so sweet, so pretty, it had seemed almost a shame to reduce her to dust.

Harsh stumbled out of the bar, rage hitting like a wave, cresting, breaking, passing before he could even sink his teeth into it. This was wrong. He was wrong. He should want to go back in there and tear every last worthless throat out, truce be damned. But where there should have been hate, should have been grief there was just… nothing. A hollow where a soul should be. He had been trying to fill it all along.

For a few weeks he stewed. There had to be someway to get it back, to fix the gaping hole inside. Harsh chased rumors, myths, until he tracked down a small coven. They were wary at first, but eventually one of the older spellcasters heard him out. Laughter was the first answer to his pleas, but eventually the woman buckled. She would restore his soul, but on one condition: he had to prove he was worthy of it first. A deal was struck, fifty years of good deeds and she would ensure that his soul was restored to him. But for every slip, another year would be added on.

With the guidelines in place, Harsh set out, doing his best to do good wherever he went. But what no one ever tells you is that, without a conscience, the line between good and bad is a lot harder to define. After twenty years, he was starting to get a bit fed up. Surely there could be some place with enough concentrated bad that he could cash in all his good deeds, maybe convince the old bat to knock a few years off. And the winds of fate blew again, bringing word of the curious town of White Crest to his ears. If there was anywhere that needed some good done, that must be the place.

Character Facts:

Personality: Impulsive, generous, persistent, hedonistic, (trying to be) compassionate, apathetic, clever

Since striking his deal, Harsh has accidentally tacked on five more years to his contract. At this point, he’s starting to think that maybe he should find another spellcaster who’s prices won’t be quite so steep.

Harsh was raised muslim growing up, but it’s been over two hundred years since he’s thought about any kind of religion. He still refuses to celebrate Christmas and Easter on principle.

He still keeps an old necklace of Eleanor’s on him at all times, if only to try to remember what she once meant to him.

Harsh is pansexual and tends to pursue casual flings, discarding his partners soon after. However, since striking his deal, he’s tried to cut back on that, though he can’t quite stop himself from flirting frequently.

Despite being alive for over two hundred years, Harsh hasn’t matured much mentally since he gave up his soul. He’s working on it.

#taken #bio #vampire #taken vampire #Arjun Gupta

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thegoldenyears-memories · 4 years

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♕ GLAMOROUS, a lucinda talkalot mix ♕

“i just took a dna test, turns out i'm 100% that bitch.”

( listen )

01. YOU SHOULD SEE ME IN A CROWN de billie eilish ( bite my tongue, bide my time, wearing a warning sign, wait till the world is mine. you should see me in a crown, i'm gonna run this nothing town. watch me make 'em bow one by one by one one by one by. you should see me in a crown, your silence is my favorite sound. watch me make 'em bow one by one by one one by one by one. )

02. BRAVADO de lorde ( 'cause i was raised up to be admired, to be noticed. i'm faking glory, lick my lips, toss my hair and turn the smile on. i was frightened of every little thing that i thought was out to get me down, to trip me up and laugh at me. but i learnt not to want the quiet of the room with no one around to find me out. i want the applause, the approval, the things that make me go oh, oh, oh, oh. )

03. CONFIDENT de demi lovato ( it's time for me to take it, i'm a boss right now. not gonna fake it, not when you go down. 'cause this is my game and you better come to play. i used to hold my freak back, now i'm letting go. i make my own choice. bitch, i run the show. so leave the lights on. no, you can't make me behave. so you say i'm complicated, that i must be outta my mind, but you've had me underrated, rated, rated. what's wrong with being, what's wrong with being, what's wrong with being confident? it's time to get the chains out, is your tongue tied up? 'cause this is my round and i'm dangerous. and you can get off, but it's all about me tonight. )

04. FOCUS de ariana grande ( i know what i came to do and that ain't gonna change. so go ahead and talk your talk, cause i won't take the bait. i'm over here doing what i like, i'm over here working day and night. i can tell you're curious, it's written on your lips. ain't no need to hold it back, go ahead and talk your shit. i know you're hoping that i'll react, i know you're hoping i'm looking back. just come and get it, let them say what they say, 'cause i'm about to put them all away. focus on me, fuh, fuh, focus on me (you know i like it when you focus on me). )

05. JUICE de lizzo ( mirror, mirror on the wall, don't say it 'cause i know i'm cute (ooh, baby). i'm like chardonnay, get better over time (so you know). heard you say i'm not the baddest, bitch, you lie (haha). it ain't my fault that i'm out here makin' news, i'm the pudding in the proof, gotta blame it on my juice. no, i'm not a snack at all, look, baby, i'm the whole damn meal (ooh, baby). )

06. FANCY de iggy azalea ft. charli xcx ( i'm so fancy, you already know. i'm in the fast lane, from l.a. to tokyo. i'm so fancy, can't you taste this gold? remember my name, 'bout to blow. )

07. PRIMADONNA de marina ( primadonna girl, yeah, all i ever wanted was the world. i can't help that i need it all, the primadonna life, the rise and fall. you say that i'm kinda difficult, but it's always someone else's fault. got you wrapped around my finger, babe, you can count on me to misbehave. beauty queen on a silver screen, living life like i'm in a dream. i know i've got a big ego, i really don't know why it's such a big deal, though. )

08. FASHION! de lady gaga ( fashion! looking good and feeling fine. fashion! step into the room like it's a catwalk. fashion! singing to the tune just to keep them talking. fashion! walk into the light, display your diamonds and pearls in mine. fashion! married to the night, i own the world. look at me now! i feel on top of the world in my fashion! fashion! make up on your face, a new designer dress. )

09. LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO de taylor swift ( the role you made me play of the fool, no, i don't like you. but i got smarter, i got harder in the nick of time. honey, i rose up from the dead, i do it all the time. i've got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined. i check it once, then i check it twice, oh! ooh, look what you made me do, look what you made me do, look what you just made me do. the world moves on, another day, another drama, drama. but not for me, not for me, all i think about is karma. and then the world moves on, but one thing's for sure, maybe i got mine, but you'll all get yours. )

10. TENNIS COURT de lorde ( don't you think that it's boring how people talk? making smart with their words again, well i'm bored. because i'm doing this for the thrill of it, killin' it. never not chasing a million things i want. getting pumped up on the little bright things i bought. it's a new art form showing people how little we care. we're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear. )

11. WASABI de little mix ( love to hate me, crazy, shady, spit me out like hot wasabi. love to hate me, praise me, shame me, either way you talk about me. i love the way you talk about me, look at how far it got me. ooh, baby, you (yes you), i can feel you hatin' on me. you, baby, you (yeah you), i'm glad to be your inspiration. who, baby, who's (guess who) the topic of your conversation? i-i-i am (i am). all the ugly things you say come and say 'em to my face. watchin' me, i ain't watching you (watchin' you). what you see, i hope you like the view (check it out). best believe you'll never get into me. all these words run through me. )

12. MR. KNOW IT ALL de kelly clarkson ( when somebody tells you something 'bout you, think that they know you more than you do, so you take it down another pill to swallow. mr. bring-me-down, well ya, ya like to bring me down, don't you? but i ain't laying down, baby, i ain't goin' down. can't nobody tell me how it's gonna be, nobody gonna make a fool out of me. baby, you should know that i lead not follow. 'cause baby you don't know a thing about me. )

13. CASTLE de halsey ( sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise. i'm headed straight for the castle, they wanna make me their queen. and there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying that i probably shouldn't be so mean. i'm headed straight for the castle, they've got the kingdom locked up. and there's an old man sitting on the throne that's saying i should probably keep my pretty mouth shut. there's no use crying about it. )

14. BURNING GOLD de christina perri ( looking for an exit in this world of fear, i can see the path that leads the way. looking through the window to a world of dreams, i can see my future slip away. honey you won't get there if you don't believe. i wish the wind would carry a change. i've had enough, i'm standing up. i need, i need a change. i'm setting fire to the life that i know, let's start a fire everywhere that we go. we're starting fires, we're starting fires 'til our lives are burning gold. looking back i see i had the flame in me, i'm the wind that’s carrying change. )

15. MEAN de taylor swift ( you, with your words like knives and swords and weapons that you use against me. you have knocked me off my feet again, got me feeling like a nothing. you have pointed out my flaws again, as if i don't already see them. i walk with my head down, trying to block you out 'cause i'll never impress you. i just wanna feel okay again. but the cycle ends right now, 'cause you can't lead me down that road and you don't know, what you don't know, someday i'll be big enough so you can't hit me and all you're ever gonna be is mean. why you gotta be so mean? )

16. DONATELLA de lady gaga ( 'cause she walks so bad, like it feels so good, listen to her radiate her magic even though she knows she's misunderstood. what do you wanna wear this spring? what do you think is the new thing? what do you wanna wear this season? i'm gonna wear designer and forget your name. )

17. WORK BITCH de britney spears ( don't stop now, just be the champion. work it hard, like it's your profession. watch out now, 'cause here it comes. no time to quit now, just time to get it now. you wanna live fancy, live in a big mansion, party in france? you better work bitch, now get to work bitch. )

18. 7 RINGS de ariana grande ( buy myself all of my favorite things. been through some bad shit, i should be a sad bitch. who would have thought it'd turn me to a savage? i see it, i like it, i want it, i got it. whoever said money can't solve your problems must not have had enough money to solve 'em. they say, "which one?" i say, "nah, i want all 'em." happiness is the same price as "red-bottoms." my smile is beamin', my skin is gleamin'. the way it shine, i know you've seen it, you've seen it. i don't mean to brag, but i be like, "put it in the bag." )

19. BITCH BETTER HAVE MY MONEY de rihanna ( bitch better have my money! y'all should know me well enough. bitch better have my money! please don't call me on my bluff, pay me what you owe me. don't act like you forgot, i call the shots, shots, shots. )

20. HOMEMADE DYNAMITE de lorde ( i'll give you my best side, tell you all my best lies. yeah, awesome right? our rules, our dreams, we're blind. blowing shit up with homemade dynamite. our friends, our drinks, we get inspired. blowing shit up with homemade dynamite. )

21. ANGELA de the lumineers ( but you held your course to some distant war in the corners of your mind. were you safe and warm in your coat of arms, with your fingers in a fist? strangers in this town, they raise you up just to cut you down. oh, angela it's a long time coming. )

22. THE OUTSIDE de taylor swift ( so how can i ever try to be better? nobody ever lets me in. i can still see you, this ain't the best view, on the outside looking in and i've been a lot of lonely places, i've never been on the outside. you saw me there, but never knew, that i would give it all up to be a part of this, a part of you. and now it's all too late. so you see... you could've helped if you had wanted to. but no one notices until it's too late to do anything. )

23. SORRY NOT SORRY de demi lovato ( now i'm out here looking like revenge, feelin' like a 10, the best i ever been. now payback is a bad bitch, and baby, i'm the baddest. you're fuckin' with a savage. can't have this, can't have this. and it'd be nice of me to take it easy on ya, but nah. baby, i'm sorry (i'm not sorry). being so bad got me feelin' so good. feeling inspired 'cause the tables have turned. yeah, i'm on fire and i know that it burns. )

24. CAN’T GET ENOUGH OF MYSELF de santigold ft. bc unidos ( if i wasn't me, i can be sure i'd wanna be. i'm pretty major and i'll say it out loud. living a living a fantasy, live in, i live in my vanity. all i wanna do is what i do well. ain't a gambler but honey i'd put money on myself. i'll tell you that i can't get enough, i'm on a roll, i keep turning it up. i'm my biggest fan and i can't get enough. i can't get enough, i'mma say it, it's true, i can't get enough of myself. )

25. CIRCUS de britney spears ( there's only two types of people in the world: the ones that entertain, and the ones that observe. well baby i'm a put-on-a-show kinda girl, don't like the backseat, gotta be first. i'm like the ringleader, i call the shots. i feel the adrenaline moving through my veins, spotlight on me and i'm ready to break. all the eyes on me in the center of the ring, just like a circus. )

26. I’M EVERY WOMAN de chaka khan ( i'm every woman, it's all in me. anything you want done, baby, i'll do it naturally. i ain't braggin' 'cause i'm the one, you just ask me ooh and it shall be done. and don't bother to compare, 'cause i've got it, i've got it, i've got it. )

27. APPLAUSE de lady gaga ( i live for the applause, applause, applause. live for the way that you cheer and scream for me, the applause, applause, applause. (a-p-p-l-a-u-s-e) make it real loud, (a-p-p-l-a-u-s-e) put your hands up, make 'em touch, touch. )

28. STILL SANE de lorde ( hair is dripping, hiding that i'm terrified, but this is summer, playing dumber than in fall. everything i say falls right back into everything i'm not. riding around on the bikes, we're still sane. i won't be her, tripping over on-stage. hey, it's all cool, i still like hotels, but i think that'll change. hey, promise i can stay good. (everything feels right) i'm little, but i'm coming for the crown, i'm little, but i'm coming for you. (chase paper, get it) i'm little but i'm coming for the title held by everyone who's up. all work and no play, never made me lose it. all business all day, keeps me up a level. only bad people live to see their likeness set in stone, what does that make me? )

29. GLAMOROUS de fergie ft. ludacris ( if you ain't got no money take your broke ass home. g-l-a-m-o-r-o-u-s. poppin' champagne, livin' the life in the fast lane. wear them gold and diamonds rings, all them things don't mean a thing. chaperons and limousines, shopping for expensive things. i'm not clean, i'm not pristine. i'm no queen, i'm no machine. i got problems up to here, i've got people in my ear telling me these crazy things that i don't want to know (fuck y'all). )

╰ ❄ feliz navidad y año nuevo, ale.

—; de: andy ( @dorcasdoemeadowes )

—; para: ale ( @talkalotxl )

Ale:

Siempre que me tocas, me quedo como: meep, help, ¿qué pongo? Porque sabes que tiendo más a mandar mensajes enormes a las 3 de la mañana llenos de mis sentimientos, a algo que me propongo, pero vamos a intentarlo. <3

Primero que nada, espero te guste tu mix :3. La verdad es que adoro a Lucinda, es hermosa y me encanta como la llevas. La foto de la portada es precioooosa, tenía que ponerla, y la contraportada obvio teníamos que ponerle su coronita. Busqué captar como la llevas tú, desde su aburrimiento por el mundo purista, hasta como la trataron mal y eso la hizo la persona que es ahora, pasando por su amor por la atención, el dinero *oso que lanza billetes*, su lado vengativo, su pasión por la moda, cómo finge cual buena hija purista, su ambición, su sentido de superioridad y al final, en la última canción, cómo sabe dentro de ella que en realidad estos lujos y ser parte de los "puristas", no significa nada, que es vacío. Disfrútalo muuuuuucho, bebé. Gracias por traer a Lucinda al dash, we luv her.

Bueno, ¿qué puedo decirte? Eres mi mejor amiga. Gracias por serlo. Gracias por ser la persona a la que puedo contarle las cosas más raras, que más me hacen odiarme, las que escondo de la vergüenza que me dan, y que aún puedas ver todo lo bueno en mí; gracias por soportar todo el dolor y ansiedad que he cargado conmigo estos años, por tratar de entender lo mejor que puedes mi enfermedad, por hacerme ver que a pesar de que yo no siempre lo note, voy mejorando, y por ser tan paciente; gracias por esos momentos donde me llamaste la atención porque sabías que no tenía que ir por algún lado, o me estaba lastimando, por decirme cuando meto la pata, porque eso hacen las verdaderas amigas; gracias por protegerme del mundo y de la gente que ha querido lastimarme, me siento muy segura contigo, incluso si estás a muchos kilómetros de distancia; gracias por no hacerme sentir ridícula, por escuchar sobre mis gustos y pasiones, por empujarme a seguirlos, por recordarme mi valor, y en especial por verme como la persona que soy. Me conoces mucho mejor que la mayoría del mundo, y el hecho de que veas en mí tantas cosas buenas, y me las recuerdes cuando yo no puedo, es algo que te agradeceré siempre.

Ale, sabes que vamos de la mano en este mundo, que la vida no es fácil y lo hemos entendido, pero también es hermosa, fantástica, y nunca estamos solas. Espero este año consigas verte como yo te veo: Una mujer sumamente inteligente, que no se deja pisotear por nadie, que no se queda callada, ni se conforma, con una fortaleza enorme (eres de las personas más fuertes que conozco, en verdad), que cae y siempre se levanta porque para ella no existe opción, una persona admirable, una chica hermosa, alguien de quien aprendo día a día, que me ha enseñado a respetarme más, a no conformarme, a ser más amable conmigo misma, me has ayudado a crecer, y que felicidad haber crecido contigo y continuar creciendo. Espero este año tú seas más amable contigo misma, que perdones tus errores, que entiendas que está bien si un día no te sientes bien, que veas más cualidades que defectos en ti, que lances a la basura todo el odio que tengas en tu corazón para ti misma, que te ames y sientas que nadie te puede detener, y que nadie puede decirte que no vales la pena, porque tú sabes que sí. Más que nada te deseo felicidad y tranquilidad contigo misma.

Todo va a estar bien. Sé que es algo cliché que normalmente digo, y que yo veo el mundo más rosado, pero al final está bien. El tiempo cura las cosas, el mundo tiene bondad (tú misma eres muestra de ello), no somos la opinión de otra persona, lo que nos define es lo que está en nuestro coraz��n (y en el tuyo hay muchas cosas hermosas), y que más que tener miedo al futuro, debemos emocionarnos, porque cosas buenas vienen, gente que nos hará sonreír, veremos lugares hermosos, viviremos cosas geniales y sanaremos. Si ya estamos en este punto, imagina todo lo que podemos lograr. Espero siempre sepas que nunca estás sola, Joanna y yo estamos ahí siempre. Juntas estamos en esta vida y sabemos que todo es mejor cuando tienes en quién apoyarte. Gracias por permitirme estar a tu lado.

Te amo muchísimo. Así mucho, mucho, mucho. Muuuuuuucho. Mucho, mucho, mucho. A lot, mucho, muchísimo, mucho, mucho. MUCHO. Mucho. :)

Feliz Navidad atrasada y año nuevo. Eres una mujer fuerte, poderosa y hermosa, nunca lo olvides. Mereces el mundo.

Con todo su amor,

— andy ♡. 🎅

#lucinda #santa secreto 2019 #mix

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this-lioness · 4 years

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Weekend Review

Long, boring and mundane, as usual, but I find it relaxing.

The last two grocery orders for my Mom were only about 1/3 to 1/2 full, and I knew that wasn’t going to hold her very long. Food is readily available in the stores, it’s just that the stores are no longer doing substitutions for out-of-stock items, so if there are six versions of a given item available online you have to hope that the one you pick is one they have in stock, otherwise you’re not getting anything at all. Your only choice is to keep ordering and ordering and ordering or physically go into the store. Ugh.

There’s a Grocery Outlet up the street from us, and we decided Friday afternoon would probably be less crowded than a Saturday morning, and took our chances going out. We wore masks and gloves, to be safe, and I left most everything home -- purse, glasses, phone. I didn’t want to have to decontaminate more than I absolutely had to.

It went pretty smoothly, all things considered. We have a full decontamination area in the pantry now: drop cloth on the floor, rolling rack with a bleach-water solution, washable wipes, clean grocery bags and gloves. So we bring everything in through the back gate, I spray everything down with bleach (or SimpleGreen, if we’re worried about bleach getting on it) in the pantry, let it sit, then Marc wipes it dry and transfers it either to our own cabinets or into clean bags for my Mom. Produce gets transferred directly to the sink where it’s washed with warm, soapy water and then dried.

Is it enough? I don’t know. It’s certainly a whole process, which makes me feel like we’re doing some amount of good, but I suppose you can’t really know for sure right now.

Saturday morning we had our breakfast biscuit sandwiches and coffee, then packed up (what we thought was) all my Mom’s groceries and drove them over. En route she texted me to ask for Splenda (*sigh*) and a flashlight, because Jim uses a flashlight to navigate to the bathroom at night. By then it was too late, but it turns out we’d forgotten all her frozen items anyway, so I told her I’d bring it the next day.

Dropped everything off with her and then went to Lowes to pick up garden soil and some drainage rock. It was still cold and cloudy out, but warm enough that we got a good hour or so of work done in the back yard -- mostly cleaning up the winter muck.

A few months ago we bought a stack of old icing buckets from a baker ($1 each!) and Marc drilled holes in the bottom and layered them with rock and soil. He also dug up one of the original three blackberry beds which we decided to retire. I’d planned to just toss the canes, but they were already greening up so nicely that he took the chance they could be salvaged and transferred them to three new planters. To my surprise they don’t seem shocked at all, so we may be able to keep them going in a better location!

Marc is debating what to do with the retired bed, but we’ll probably use it to dry firewood or store things off-season.

I went over the blackberry bushes and cut off all the old winter growth and one or two dead canes. They’re greening up beautifully, and one of them has thrown FIVE NEW CANES, two of which have sprouted in the little gap between beds. Complete assholes. I rocked off the gap so it is now unofficially our new third berry bed, and gave it a stern talking-to about behaving itself from now on. I swear to God those canes grew more since just yesterday.

The raspberries are greening up, but not so vigorously. I need the time to get them back in order, frankly -- we have to completely redo the training wire. There’s fucking thistle everywhere, I want to scream. The harder you try to get rid of the stuff the more aggressively it spreads.

Blueberries are greening up as well. I acidified the soil as best I could, but we’re giving them just this year to prove themselves. If they can’t grow berries I can’t spare the garden space, and frankly it’s just too much work trying to acidify their beds. The blackberries and raspberries would literally kill their mother to take over that space, and I’d love to try some gooseberries or something else new and different.

I pulled last year’s baby maples from their winter bed and gave them a once-over. They’ve got tiny little buds on them, it looks like they all made it -- a good five or six at least! I’ve got them in the sun now, anyway, to see if we can coax them fully back to life.

After choring I cleaned litter boxes, showered, then came downstairs and completely tore the pantry apart -- mud room, cabinet pantry, and the two sides of the kitchen island where we normally keep canned goods.

We normally keep a very well-stocked pantry, but I wanted a better idea of everything we had, and it was starting to get cluttered in a way that made it hard to get everything. I spent a good few hours -- and Marc even got into it, and was a huge help -- taking everything out, combining items, moving some bulk goods to air-tight containers, and then sorting it all back new spots.

I had a bunch on hand that was more than we needed, and offered to bring it to my Mom with her frozen stuff. In exchange she offered us some polenta and a few frozen items that neither she nor Jim would eat. Good trade.

I’ve run past Marc the idea of organizing his tool chest as well, which is currently a six-foot-tall column of absolute madness that I have to avert my eyes from, but it seems like that’s going to wait until tomorrow. Ah well.

Had tacos, watched Onward (I wasn’t expecting much but I actually really liked it), played some Animal Crossing and went to bed. Good day.

This morning Marc made chocolate chip waffles and then we popped back out again. The plan was just to drop the groceries off at my Mom’s, but we managed to get a few other things done: brought over the old tiered planter so she can use it for herbs and annuals, and set up the frame for a raised garden bed so she can grow some veggies (with my help, no doubt). Later this week I’ll go over and lay down some weed blocker for her and fill it with soil. I’ve got more than enough broccoli sprouts to spare and I’m sure the same will be true with the peppers, so she’ll have that if nothing else.

Afterwards we hit Lowes again, picking up a few more bags of top soil, bird seed, and more buckets.

Today was absolutely beautiful, cloudy on-and-off but warm and good for gardening. We did a bang up job!

Marc gathered all the old wood paneling and other crap that’s been accumulating and got it into one spot so we can call a haul-away company. He also cleaned up most of the leaf litter from around the yard and helped me organize the little collapsible greenhouse we got for free late last year. It’s really handy, we’re already talking about replacing it with something more permanent.

I planted some of the broccoli sprouts and put them out in the sun. Here’s hoping! The three onion bulbs I planted a few weeks ago were sprouting up green so I got those into a planter and plugged most of the rest of the bulbs into biodegradable containers to see if we can get them growing as well. Onions seem complicated, but I’ll do my best.

I’ve been saving every kind of little container I could get my hands on, these past weeks, and I filled them all up with soil and got some eggplant seeds going as well. The bell peppers are just now starting to sprout, they need a bit longer, but I think they’ll get there. Also planted some pinto beans and cat grass. I’ve still got some baby spinach and pumpkins to get going, but I’m holding onto those for just now.

We sorted the “guest” patio chairs off into the side yard, as we don’t really anticipate having anyone over this summer. We can always break them out again if we need to, it’s easy enough, but right now I’ve got almost every single sunny spot dedicated to something we can grow and eat.

We’ll have tomatoes at some point, too, but I’d prefer to buy them as seedlings. I’m already unsure just how well the current round of babies is going to do. I’m so worried about that broccoli, but I guess at some point you have to just let it do its thing and hope for the best.

I hope everything comes up. I’ve read everything I can, but sometimes it all gets confused and muddled, so at some point I just sort of have to... hope. Supposedly last year’s corn should return, but man... I don’t know. We’ll keep an eye on it. If it hasn’t come up by the time seedlings start appearing in the store we’ll just pull them up and replant. That was a wonderful exercise last year.

We also put out more clover seed in the front (last year’s clover is BOOMING), and spread some wildflower seeds around as well. Marc filled up the bird feeders, hosed off the patio and set up the chairs. We’re going to buy a better pressure washer than the old electric one we have from the old house, both for our use and so my parents don’t have to keep hiring someone to clean their siding. That will make a big difference.

It’s amazing what a difference an afternoon of work made in the back yard -- it looks and feels so much better. Afterwards we got showered up and changed, and then a little bit ago I made some veggie fried brown rice with steamed veggie dumplings. A little later on I’m going to make us some sakura lattes and maybe something light to snack on for dessert.

And how are you?

#oc #personal

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mysticmilks · 5 years

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An arranged marriage AU

Brendol decides to force marry his son to a creepy old man and hires mysterious Kylo Ren to kidnap him. Brendol lies to hesitant Kylo that Armitage really wants to marry the man, and kidnapping is just an old tradition. And Kylo agrees!

Chapter 1.

Kylo doesn’t want to agree. The mission is innocent, simple and boring, not his regular thing - escort rich nobleman to his wedding. He wouldn’t even consider it but the family of the man offered a generous amount of money for a one day job, and he decides to go to the meeting and learn more details.

During their secret encounter, he finds out that this mission is not so much about being a guard to the man, but to participate in some elaborate pre-wedding performance. These people have an odd tradition if a pair doesn't want a big celebration the bride or groom-to-be must be kidnapped from their parent's house and "against their will" brought to the secluded location for a ceremony.

If Kylo agrees he will get access to defense plan of a castle, the exact location of his pretense victim's bedroom, the guards will be notified and will let him in. He just needs to act as an intruder, break to the bedroom, preferably throw the window, so theatrically, capture the man and bring him to a small house in nearby mountains where the wedding will happen.

The only obstacle will be a somewhat real fight with a man. According to Brendol, his client and father of a groom, to show love and devotion groom-to-be need to resist and pretend as much as possible.

“The harder the resistance the stronger the love is and happier will be marriage. This tradition came from an action time when a warrior could capture any person they found attractive, perform a ceremony, consume the marriage and after that, the family of a victim could not seek revenge. But you aren’t interested in history lessons, are you Lord Ren?“- he tells Kylo with a condescending smile. Lord wasn’t his title, that was from another order, and old bastard probably know about that, so Kylo decides not to correct him and nods "But it’s still customary to tell the kidnapper that the wedding is unwanted! The victim needs to show that they are chaste, and want to protect this so nobody would think ill of them.” he cringes his nose, like he smells a fart and sips a brandy “ The ritual is often done by friends of a groom, or a groom himself, but rich families like ours can afford to hire … hm … help for more authenticity.”- one more sip-“My son is going to fight pretty hard. Armitage is madly in love, so he begged me to organize this thing. I can’t tell him no, I spoiled the boy, but he is the only one I have. It’s romantic nonsense but it also quite efficient”. -the man chuckles and finishes his drink -"Can you imagine how much money will I save on wedding feast?”

"I see your point, sir" - Kylo says as politely as he can, but it still sounds fake. He is not used to speaking directly with nobles, regularly taking orders through their attendants. But this man wanted to meet with him to organize everything right for his beloved son.

The tradition seems strange but who he is to judge others, in his culture they have a tradition for a groom (or an older person in a couple) to wash feed of bride’s (younger person’s) mother during the change of dishes, which looks as revolting as it sounds, but traditions are traditions, and money is really good so after negotiations he agrees to take the mission.

-My son, even though it was his idea, won't know about specific details of a plan. Not the date or the exact location of a house. He wants it all to be as much a surprise for him as possible.

-What should I do if your son resists too much? - Kylo doubts that this man can put up a real battle against him but some noblemen fancy themselves as great fighters just because they haven't ever sparred with someone who wasn't their servant. It's easy to win over the one who is scared to mess their pretty hairstyle but in a real fight, all these lords and ladies don't know how to defend themselves and not to lose any vital parts.

-He is totally okay with some bruises just don't break any bones, or hurt his face it's his wedding, he wants it to be perfect.

After the kidnapping, he understood what Brendol was talking about. Everything went according to the plan: he went in the middle of the night, to show how client oriented he can be, the back entrance was unguarded as they agreed, climbed to the bedroom window, where his target was soundly sleeping, but when he tried to grab the man, he woke him up.

"What's going on? " - younger Hux asks in a displeased, but not scared voice.

"I came to take you to your destiny, sweetie! Don't resist me, and I won't hurt you." - Kylo prepared this phrase in advance and tries not to laugh and break the character. He doesn't usually talk with his victims, but when he has a rare opportunity to play it's too tempting to add some cliche, maybe he should tell him the whole evil plan in a dramatic tone.

But this redhead must be really into traditions and loves his future-husband so much (and probably he also has a soft spot for acting and pretending), cause he was really committed to the act, he fought tooth and nails, screamed and bit him, before being Kylo successfully manage to tie down and gag him. Now all Ren needs to do is to deliver him to his fiance and get the money, it's as easy as can be.

The sun already has risen, they still have a long road ahead of them. His bite marks and scratches are hurting and Armitage still wriggling and humming not stop for hours and all Kylo wants is to finish this job in silence.

-Enough, I get it, you love a guy, L-O-V-E him, just stop it till we get to weeding!

He did stop for a moment, his eyes big and scared but started once again even more madly! It seems like the man is trying extra hard to remove the gag and say something. He has a pleasant voice, but more screaming is not what Kylo needs after the sleepless night, so he tries to reason with his captive.

-What is wrong with you? There is nobody there except two of us and believe me, I don’t care about your stupid traditions, a need to pretend, all this purity and virginity bullshit. You can save all these games to your so special husband!

More frantic humming muted by gag and Kylo considers for a moment to knock him out and finally enjoy a peace. But he isn’t sure that they’d pay him if groom arrived at the wedding with his pretty face unharmed but with a concussion. And maybe Kylo Ren isn’t a good guy, but he won’t sink to hitting a tied man just because that man is too committed to rituals. He needs to endure a couple of more hours and they will arrive at the place, he’ll get his reward, go to the nearest pub and forgot these strange people and their strange weddings, he may even find somebody for himself there to warm his bed and his cock. Maybe even redhead.

After particularly loud noise, Kylo decides ones again to try to calm down him, with as much patience as possible.

-The more you annoy me, the slower we go and the later we will arrive at your sweetheart! If we didn’t reach the mountains before the darkness we will need to stop for the night. There is part of a road we'll need to go by foot and I won't risk breaking your lovely neck by going there in a dark. So it’s in your best interest to be quiet. I promise I will tell you when we are near the place so you could act as a struggling captive for them.

Even more silenced noises, grunting and squirming. The man has decided to play his part for the whole duration of a trip. If he will continue to act like this at the near path in mountains, it would be wiser to tie him harder and carry him. Kylo is just too tired of this theater, he is a mercenary, not an actor to this rich guy, he is not trained to deal with this, he's never a problem like this with real captives. But maybe the man, Armitage his name is Armitage, he reminds himself, has his reasons for all this pretense, maybe for him, it's important to honor this tradition, he is his client and he pay for that. Kylo sighed, he doesn't have any solution after all:

-Okay, whatever, you may continue, if that makes you happy. You pay for this, it's your moment to shine.

Maybe if he ignores this behavior the man will grow tired and stop. He heard it works on children although it's never worked on him. Kylo tries to zone out, to concentrate on a road ahead of them. But the redhead is all he can think about. He discreetly checked him over his shoulder. So young, he must be somewhere in his early twenties, just around Kylo’s age. And he’s already decided to get married, and even go throw some complicated traditions. Kylo wonders, would somebody be so in love with him to willing to go throw something similar for him, would Kylo want it, would Kylo want it from this guy.

trange thoughts, he shouldn’t think about his prisoner in that way. He is not even a prisoner, he is a client, and that's highly unethical. But this Armitage is undeniably cute with gorgeous red hear, slender body and his pale skin is seen throw translucent nightgown. He can’t help but consider what would it be like to touch that skin, to kiss that furious mouth, to have that scratches and bites from romantic nights, not a fight, to have this body all for himself?

He imagines Armitage being delivered to HIM by some anonymous mercenary to being promptly wed surrounded by a small group of closest friends. Kylo always had a thing for secret small weddings. Then they’d be led to a bedroom, where Armitage being as stubborn as always, which was so obvious even now, wouldn’t drop an act and continue to fight. Kylo’d enjoy it, all small punches, curses, loud threats, but just to be on the safe side with his sweet husband he’d whisper “Do you want me to stop, Armie?”. "Kylo Ren, if you ruin our wedding night I’ll suffocate you with a pillow" in serious even tone and then again with an angry snarl “Stop, animal, don’t you dare touch me with your dirty hands.”. They’d play this game. He’d rip Armies clothes, while been called a brute, monster, animal. He'd pin him to the bed, roughly kissed him, touched him, opened him, teased him until his new husband would drop all pretense and start to beg Kylo for more.

Kylo lost in that fantasy, his pants grew tighter, breathing became irregular. He knows he should stop and concentrate. It was highly unprofessional and also unsatisfying, he can’t take a break now for a quick wank, he is on a mission not on vacation, and his client will be married to another man in hours.

So now he is angry at himself, at Armitage Hux, at his future husband, and at this stupid nightgown. Maybe they should take a small break, he needs to clear head, stretch his legs and take a leak.

He suddenly understands he hasn't heard anything from his prisoner for some time.

-Shit!

He turns his head only to find out that Armitage Hux the only son to Brendol Hux count of Arkanis, is unconscious.

#kylux #kylux fanfiction #kylux fic #chapter one ut i'm not sure #kylux ficlet #kylux fandom #I'm still editing it so if anybody want's to point all my grammar mistakes i'd be grateful #my fics #my kylux

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