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alycosworld · 3 years

Text

Tainted

Scaramouche X Reader

WARNING: mentions of (nearly) sexual assault

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A/N: I seem to have more angst/comfort ideas for genshin but I'm not sure why...also, I'm on holiday in a foreign country! I have no work and I'll probably spend all my nights on Tumblr after exploring the city in the day, so please please please send in some requests! I'm bored and although they might take some time, they might help me get back into writing more regularly. I'm pretty sure this is gender neutral but if I made a mistake, feel free to tell me. This has NOT been checked for any errors (I'll get around to it at some point).

I'm not sure if Scaramouche is ooc, since he doesn't say anything that nice in the game or in any official works, but I definitely think he has the capacity for it. And I like soft Scar <3.

If at any point you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE DO NOT READ ON. I felt a little icky after writing the assault bit so do not force yourself to read any further or read at all. I do not want to make anyone reading this unhappy. Any victims of sexual assault or harassment, I hope you heal

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Keep walking. Just keep walking. Get home as fast as possible.

Avoid dark spots, avoid all people, avoid secluded areas. Just get home now.

That's what you told yourself after it happened. Archons, you didn't even know how you should feel. Ashamed? Angry? Disgusted? Upset? Confused? Afraid? The amalgamation of these emotions just made everything worse. You felt sick to your stomach. You wanted to cry and scream and vomit and disappear all at the same time.

You felt like you were covered in grime and you don't even know how you managed to get away. You should've done something, anything! But in the moment, you couldn't.

Your day had started normally. You went to the Adventurer's Guild in Inazuma, doing your commissions and taking up a few extra quests to help people out. Even though you were walking home later than normal, you didn't think much of it. Until somehow, you lost your way. In the dark, things became a little more vague and confusing, so you ended up taking a left and ending up in a dark alleyway between two dimly lit buildings.

You walked through, lost in your own thoughts, until you heard some chuckling and some incoherent remarks made by someone exiting one of the buildings out a back door and into the alleyway.

Glancing up, you saw that the person was a man - quite tall and well built with flushed cheeks: he was clearly not sober. You paid him no mind, staring at the ground as you continue to walk, determined to get home to see your boyfriend, Scaramouche. Though he wasn't one to worry, knowing that you could handle yourself, you did want to see him as soon as possible.

"Well, what do we have here?" The man asked, and you looked up at him again, tilting your head in confusion but staying silent.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" He asked, a suspicious smirk on his face.

"I'm going home." You said firmly, not wanting to give him any ideas.

"Oh? A handsome young thing like you, going home all by themselves? Let me walk you, I promise I don't bite." He continued, clearly not getting the hint.

"I'm alright, but thank you for the off--"

"Stop being such a fucking tease! Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it." He pinned you against the wall despite your attempt to politely refuse any moves he tried to make. He caught your arms above your head and harshly shoved one of his legs between yours.

"Don't like to me, hon, you know you want this." He whispered huskily. You had fought countless hilichurls, abyss mages and monsters far more intimidating and dangerous than that man that day, but you couldn't seem to move. All you could manage was a fearful 'please, don't do this'. Struggling was futile, for some reason you couldn't escape his grasp. You had fought beasts ten times this man's size but violating you like this? It made you break.

He gripped you harshly and even managed to kiss your neck a couple times, making the tears stream down your face uncontrollably, until he heard some voices. You recognised them immediately: members of the Adventurer's Guild. He must be known it too because he stopped as soon as he heard, offering you a sickening grin and scuttling away before you could react.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

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You didn't get any help from the Adventurer's Guild members who you heard, instead opting to rush home as soon as possible, trying to figure out what to do next.

The only solution in your mind was to crawl into your lover's arms and tell him what had happened. You didn't want anyone else to know - you know you could trust Scaramouche and you knew he would help you.

But he didn't.

You got home and wiped your tears before entering the house, hoping to look somewhat presentable despite having experienced such an impactful event. You dropped your belongings carelessly, not flinging at the loud sound they made as they hit the floor. You immediately made your way to the guest room Scaramouche had turned into an office of sorts, for him to work on Fatui business. The bedroom door was open and empty and he was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so that was the only other place he could've been. You were relieved to see him sitting at the desk, deep in thought with some maps and other sheets of paper laid out in front of him.

"Scar, I--"

"Not now, (Y/N), I'm busy." He said hot even bothering to look up at your frazzled and shattered state.

"I know but, please, Scar. While I was--"

"If you know that I'm busy, why enter in the first place? I'm working. Leave me alone." He said harshly. You didn't say anything, instead opting to nod silently and close the door. Since this was the first time you had experienced this pain and discomfort from being touched and defiled in such a way, you decided that maybe you should put it aside. After all, maybe it was something so jarring. Maybe it didn't matter. Maybe Scaramouche's nonchalance was justified. In a twisted way, you blamed yourself for overreacting and decided to just forget about the incident. If it didn't mean enough for Scaramouche to even look at you, it clearly wasn't something worth fretting over. You were just exaggerating, right?

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You tried you absolute hardest not to let the incident bother you, but you unknowingly started changing your habits to prevent what had occurred from happening to you again.

"Wearing an outfit like that, you're begging for it..."

You started wearing less revealing clothing, going as far as wearing gloves at some point and covering your neck with collars and scarves through the hot weather.

"We'll finish this some other time, sweetheart. I promise."

Initially, you just avoided dark or secluded places, even when you were with other people, but eventually, you were too scared to leave home at all. You didn't leave the confines of your small garden and if someone passed by, you would quickly hide yourself away. When Scaramouche had unknown guests and colleagues over, you would hide in your bedroom and make him promise not to mention you or acknowledge your existence in the slightest.

You even started taking longer showers and refused to bathe with Scaramouche, confusing him since you used to enjoy it so much. But you wouldn't let him see you in such a vulnerable state now that you were contaminated. You didn't want him to know that you had been tarnished in such a vulgar way, and you spent long moments scrubbing at the parts the stranger had touched. You were worried that Scaramouche would blame you for being assaulted - because in a sick way you thought it was your fault, despite having been nothing wrong. You had twisted the story in your mind to make it seem like you were responsible for the crime committed against you.

Eventually, Childe had to visit for business purposes, but you had become good friends with the eleventh Fatui Harbinger since he was friends with-- well, he and Scaramouche had a relationship, to say the least.

"So where's (Y/N)? Normally they're all over you and making you as embarrassed at possible." Childs grinned, and Scaramouche just frowned and narrowed his eyes.

"They're in our room. They don't really want to see anyone right now." Scaramouche said. Even though you told him not to mention you anymore, since you were so hellbent on avoiding all human interaction, he thought it would be okay to tell Childe. He was your friend too, after all.

"Is something wrong? What happened?" Childe asked, concern in his eyes.

"I don't know. They've been avoiding everyone, including me. They barely talk to me and insist on sleeping downstairs." Scaramouche confessed.

"Let me talk to them."

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Childe exited your room after hearing what to had to say, and he was disturbed and sympathetic, at the very least. Scaramouche saw his wide-eyed, grim expression when he exited the room and immediately had questions.

"What?" Scaramouche asked.

"I'll come back tomorrow to continue our work." Childs said, referring to the business he originally came for.

"But we have to--"

"Scar?" Scaramouche stopped all his trains of thought and turned to the sound of your voice. It was hoarse but still as beautiful as ever. He knew you had been crying from your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"I think you have other matters to take care of." Childe winked, before giving Scaramouche an informal two-fingered salute and showing himself out.

As soon as the door closed, Scaramouche turned his attention to you, not coming too close in case you didn't want to be near him.

"Yes, Love?" He asked, more concerned than you had ever seen him.

"Can I talk to you? If you're busy, that's okay, it's not that impor--"

"I'm not busy." He shook his head, and you offered him a sad and grateful smile before sitting on the edge of the bed while he took a seat on a nearby chair.

"So, uhm, a couple of days ago I was walking home and I kind of got lost...so I tried taking this alleyway and--" You stopped yourself, meeting Scaramouche's attentive gaze before continuing.

"There was a guy. And he-- he t-touched me. I-- I didn't know what to do. I could've easily fought back but I just got scared and froze up because that's never happened to me before and he kept saying that I wanted him-- but I didn't! I swear, I didn't. I know it sounds bad since I didn't stop him but I really tried, I just couldn't. And he started k-kissing me...here," You gestured to the spots on your neck that you could still feel being violated.

"And I felt so horrible and he didn't go any further because some people were coming, so I ran home. I-I...I didn't know what to do but I felt like I should tell you because I thought you would help me, but you said you were busy so I just-- It-tried to brush it off but I just couldn't get it out of my head! And before I got away, he told me that he'd come back and finish me off and so I didn't want to go outside anymore in case I ran into him. And I started to cover up since he said I was asking for it because of what I was wearing and then I just got scared and I felt dirty. I tried so hard to forget and clean myself but it kept coming back-- I can still feel him on me! I hated it, I still hated it! You have to believe me, I wasn't trying to get him to notice me, I just..." You broke down after finishing what you had to say. You had already been crying since you told Childe, but now you were choking out sobs and your face was drenched. Scaramouche stood up from his chair and sat next to you on the bed, a safe distance away just in case you still weren't comfortable with being touched.

"I believe you. I know you're not like that." Scarsmocuhe started calmly. In all honesty, he wanted to interrupt you as soon as you said that this man approached you. His blood was boiling and he was ready to murder this man for you but kept himself in check because you didn't need senseless violence or revenge right now, you needed comfort. What hurt him the most was that you were blaming yourself because he didn't bother listening to what you had to say on what was probably the worst day of your life.

"It's not your fault you were touched like that. You are not to blame, at all. I-- I should've listened to you when you came to me - as soon as I turned you say I thought something was wrong but I didn't bother asking about it. That's entirely my fault." He admitted, which surprised you. It took Scaramouche a lot to admit his mistakes, but for you? He didn't care. You constantly put up with his sour attitude, he can definitely listen to you and admit he was wrong.

"You sure? Because I still--"

"I'm sure." He said simply.

"But why did you start avoiding me?" He asked, wanting to understand the situation entirely.

"Well, because..." You started, unsure if he would get angry if you told him. While you were contemplating, he offered you an encouraging expression. It wasn't a smile, but it was more than enough to put you at ease.

"I didn't want you to think I was tainted. Of course, you wouldn't want to be near me after that had happened." You sighed, wiping up the last of your tears.

"You really are an idiot, you know?" He said, but after seeing the clueless and almost hurt look on your face, he immediately wanted to take it back. He didn't mean to be insensitive, he just...well, he often explained positive emotions with his very wide negative vocabulary.

"No, I didn't-- uhm..." He mentally cursed himself for not knowing what to say, but you didn't interrupt him and made a small gesture for him to keep going.

"What I mean to say was, I don't think that you're tainted or anything like that. And I still...want to be...near you-- eugh!" He pretended to be grossed out at his own words in true Scaramouche fashion, but he knew you knew he didn't really mean it and was beyond delighted when he saw you giggle at his facial expression.

He sighed and acted angry as he opened his arms ever so slightly. You noticed the movement and quirked an eyebrow when he hesitated.

"Is it okay if I come closer?" Scaramouche asked, unsure if you wanted to be touched after the incident.

Your heart swelled at his care and then you slowly watched as he stiffly wrapped his arms around you comfortingly. Although you had hugged and cuddled on countless occasions, he still wouldn't stop being so robotic unless you did something. It made you laugh and he pulled away slightly to glare at you, so you decided to just pull him back in and hug back.

And when you relished in the touch of another human being, the touch of the person you love, you began to cry. The last time anyone willingly touched you was in that alleyway, and so to have someone be so gentle with you and have no bad intentions, you were overwhelmed with emotion.

Scaramouche must've felt your tears staining his clothing and skin, and quickly pulled away with poorly hidden concern in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" He asked, but you just continued to sob and nod.

"I love you!" You choked out. He sighed and gently patted your back.

"I...love you too." He said, before making another expression of mock disgust. He slowly moved to hold both your wrists in his hand and kiss down to your neck, pulling you into his lap with your legs straddling one of his.

You soon realised that he was covering up the placed the stranger had touched you with his own ministrations, effectively replacing the grime you felt you gained after the incident. After you came to that conclusion and Scaramouche was done, he didn't meet your eye, blushing profusely. It was justified since he didn't usually initiate any kind of affection acts, but you just cupped his jaw and kissed his cheek, smiiling at him with purity and a newfound confidence in the both of you.

"Thank you, Scar."

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chaos-burst · 3 years

Text

direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can��t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this... how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

#doriax #critfic #exu fic #critical role #dariax zaveon #dorian storm #exandria unlimited #exu #fanfiction #screeching into the void #text #this has an M rating on ao3 jsyk #we have ~9k of practice kissing/college au magical realism here my guys #dorian #dariax

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vogueinnie · 3 years

Text

HEAVEN OR HELL ; part. 1 TEASER - PART 1 - PART 2 - (...)

━ WARNINGS ; demon!hyunjin, virgin fem!reader

if you feel uncomfortable with the mentions of religion, please don’t read this story cause there are a lot blasphem, mentions of Lucifer and Mammon (Lucifer’s son)

sex in a public place with people around (!!!), boots riding and boot licking, corruption kink, fear kink, humiliation (and not only in a sexual way), mention of animals hunting, reader is leashed, pet name (angel), manipulation, devilish creatures

this story will contains a lot of filthy and dirty things, the warnings are here to prevent you from anything that can trigger you. so please consider them carefully.

━ WORD COUNT ; 2.5k ━ NOTE ; here is the first part of my first ever serie! feedback are so welcomed so feel free to tell me anything about this story.

Since the end of time there were two worlds. Heaven and Hell. Humans fought over which world they would belong to for the rest of their lives. The good was offered the place of angels while the worst was going to be demons.

Luckily, you’ve always been good during your lifetime. You weren’t surprised when the paradise’s gates were all open for you. As an angel, your face has the softest features, most beautiful hair, and even your aura was a pretty pale pink tone. The purest one.

The Ladybug Garden. Your favorite Heaven’s place. It was the most peaceful garden, a place where you walked in every morning. The sun was shining, as usual, the grass was a bright green and all the flowers were colorful. You jump happily in the air, your bare feet stroking the grass every time you touched the ground. You laugh softly, feeling dumb for a moment to play alone in the middle of all this flora. But you were happy, truly happy to be here. And knowing that you’ll be there forever was comforting enough to make you even more overexcited.

You heard a sound behind a tree so, curious, you approach slowly to finally see one of your angelic friends splaying with a cute white bunny.

“Felix ! I didn’t know you were here.” The boy called Felix turns around with a big smile to wave his hand at you. He was so beautiful, his eyes were beautiful shades of light brown, his lips were as pink as a rose, his hair white, and his beautiful skin was dotted with almost glittery freckled. You’ve met years ago here, and since then you were inseparable.

You barely have time to join him that Seungmin interrupted the both of you.

And let’s say, his coming is never for good reasons.

Seungmin doesn’t belong to either of the two worlds. He’s not an angel, nor a demon. He’s what we call the neutrals. Only here for the needs of both worlds. Heaven and Hell have only one rule in common ; If one of their residents is doomed, then they must be replaced by a person from the opposite world. It’s the only way to balance the loss. And that’s probably why Seungmin is here today, cause he never comes for pleasure.

“Hey, Seungmin… Is everything ok ?” Felix asked, a little bit concerned.

“Y/N you need to come with me.”

You look at him blankly, your lower lip starts to tremble a little, you exactly know what it means. You’re the angel chosen to go to Hell to offset the loss of a demon. How was it possible ? You’ve always been good to anyone. Everyone loved you. Everyone trusted you. You knew the rule, and you’d never dare to disrespect it, but you were so confused. Spending all this time in paradise, with all of your friends to finally end your life in the hands of a devilish creature.

And you know the only way to go back to Heaven was to soften a demon’s soul, but no one was able to do that until now. You were helpless, discouraged.

—————————————☠︎︎ —————————————

You were in front of the Hell’s gates. They were dark and gigantic. It was frightening, the chills ran unpleasantly through your body, even your mind was in an awful state. Along with Seungmin, you start to walk through the alley and the first thing that strikes you is the heat you can feel. It was so unpleasant that you felt suffocating with each step. Everything was so dim around you, the only lights were the burning flame on the side. The smells of it even made you want to throw up.

Faster than you would have thought, you ended up arriving in what you suppose to be the main room. It was… disturbing how every detail was beautiful. From the grey stone walls to the delicate stained glasses, passing by the big red carpet under your feet leading to the one who ran this world.

Everyone was looking at you. And they were a lot of… people. Some of them were scary enough for you to no look at them. Red eyes, pointy teeth, almost translucent skin, huge black feather wings… Are they the ones you are going to have to live with ?

Three thrones were in front of you, and in the center of it was your Father’s son, the fallen angel, Lucifer. He was sitting proudly on his, you have to admit, beautiful golden throne. His black crown was setting perfectly on his long silver hair and his dark eyes were all on you, looking at you insistently. As the protocol obliges you, you kneel down in front of him, he was the king after all. The King of his own world. You owe him nothing but respect. You can hear him laugh, clapping in his hands as his voice rises through the walls, creating a frightening echo.

“Angel, angel look at me. You did as told. Welcome to your new…paradise, all the creepy devilish creatures laugh at his pitiful joke but stop the moment he raises his hand in the air. I knew my dearest Father was hiding all of the most beautiful angels from me. But first ! Let me introduce yourself to my own creation, my blood, my pride, my son… Mammon.”

Without noticing it at first you perceive that a tall long black-haired boy was sitting on a throne on his left. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, it was surreal how he was beautiful. His pale and perfect skin was almost shinning in the dark, his almond-like eyes were as obscure as this place, his nose was straight leading to his plump crimson lips. His face was deadpan. He was dressed in a black suit, which is not surprising for a demon, he wore leather gloves on his hands and black chunky boots. Chains were all over his body like jewelry and you come out of your mind when he asks you to come near him with only two fingers.

Again, you did as told. Not only cause you were afraid, but cause you strangely wanted to.

It was like he was controlling your body with only his pierced gaze. You approach him slowly, feeling ridiculous in your long white dress decorated with colorful butterflies with all the hungry eyes looking at you behind your back. You kneel in front of him too, breathing slowly just to try to control your rising and inevitable anxiety. You feel his two leather-like fingers lifting up your chin and you gulp at the sight of his face so close to yours.

He was analyzing you, scanning every little specific of your pretty face, turning your head slowly from right to left to not miss any details.

“Sit down.” His voice was soft yet strict. You were confused, as long as you were already kneeling. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and your expression must amuse him cause you can see a slight smile drawn on his lips. He points his boots with his chin, leaning his back on his thrown lazily. “Ride them.”

Your mind went blank. What was he asking you, specifically? You looked at him, scared and confused, not moving an inch cause you didn’t know what to do. And you didn’t want to make him angry. But the strange feeling in your stomach was pleasant and weird at the same time.

He grabs your hair, your face approaching dangerously to his knees. He whispers so only you can hear his humiliating word.

“Make yourself cum on my boots. If you don’t do it then I’ll give you as a meal to the raging dogs. You smell good, they’re gonna love your blood, angel.”

You almost forgot how demons love to live in sin. It was scary enough to make you submit. But the worst part was probably the fact that, while looking at him in his eyes, you wanted to sin to make him proud of you. You wanted to see the oh-so-little smile on his porcelain face again.

His eyes never left yours and with your shaking body you place your two legs on either side of one of his, sitting on one of his big black boots. The material was so cold against your naked inner thighs but the sensation was magnificent. You could see him smile as he keeps on tightening your hair around his gloved hand. But you wouldn’t complain, feeling his grip was probably the only thing that can make you still feel alive in this world of debauchery. The position you were in was so uncomfortable when you start to move against his leg but your eyes went big as your cheeks went red. What was that little thing burning inside your core ? Why was it even dripping ? You wanted more of this delicious friction.

Keeping eye contact with him was surprisingly reassuring for you. Slowly, you start to grind against his boot, but focusing on him became more and more difficult with the new sensations you were feeling. A little squirm escapes your mouth, chasing after your own pleasure as you bounce against his shoes to feel the more pleasure as possible. You didn’t know what makes you do that dirty thing, but you did. It was unbelievably pleasuring. Your mind went dizzy, everything around you starts to spin and you can even feel some sweat drops running in your neck.

You wanted his dark gaze to keep looking at you, and only you. You loved the way he pats your head, smiling fondly at your pathetic figure as the unknown knot in your stomach felt like a burning mishmash of nothing but pure pleasure.

“You’ve made a real mess, angel.”

You come down from your cloud when you hear his voice, and that’s the moment you realized what just happened. Your eyes flutter and you can feel your cheek heating your skin as you’re turning your head to be sure that you’ve just ridiculed yourself and you came to the conclusion that yes… You just did.

You return your attention to him and you big round glossy eyes made him smile. A real smile, that time. It was probably fun for him to know that someone from Heaven just did… That.

“You need to clean it, I really hate dirty things.”

You were about to grab the bottom of you dress but he clicks his tongue, making you wince. His thumb found your bottom lips and he strokes it slowly, making you open your mouth like an automatism. Again, he shows you what you have to do only with his gaze.

And you melt. You were totally aware of your actions. Not only you wanted to make him proud, but you also wanted to see his dilated pupils with nothing but that special star in it.

You bow your head at the level of the boot you dirtied and your tongue starts to lick the material, making you taste your own juice. It was like a little voice in your head was asking you to do all these dirty things. But no, let’s be honest, the only reason why you’ve done that is because of Mammon. It was scary enough for you to realize that you wanted it. You felt like you needed to do it.

“I want her.”

Everyone was looking at you hungrily, all the dark eyes were on your back, examining every move you made with a grin. Panicked, you get up suddenly but your shaking legs couldn’t support your body, making you fall on your knees, again, in front of Mammon.

They were mocking you, and that’s the only reason why you felt ashamed. Otherwise, you would have only felt guilty to not be ashamed.

You hadn’t spent an hour in Hell that you were already under the influence of the Fallen Angel’s son. That’s why this place was too dangerous for angels. You were too naive, kind, easily impressionable, and weak to live in a world made of nothing but manipulative creatures.

Lucifer laughs hysterically and all his others creatures did the same. The sound was horrific, scary, the one who wasn’t moving was this beautiful boy that just humiliated you for his own pleasure. He stands up slowly and you can see how tall he looks above you. He holds out his hand to a servant, a boy who seemed pretty young, who rushes to slip an object in it. You can feel a cold metal circling your delicate neck, and you understand that he wrapped a leash around your throat.

They applause loudly and your owner pulls on the leash so you try to stand up for the second time but he shakes his head with a grin.

“Hm, hm. Walk on four legs. The leash isn’t here for nothing.”

You open your mouth but the back of his hand stroke your cheek, again, in the softest way ever. The unpleasant leather material contrasts with the sweetness of his gesture. And you decide to follow him without saying a word.

Under the waves of laughter of the demonic audience, you both leave the room. The younger boy was following you as little whimpers were escaping your mouth due to the pain you were feeling. Your knees were crawling on the ground as Mammon leads you to what you supposed to be his room.

Once you were in it you took your time to observe the room. Unsurprisingly, it was obscure. The walls were painted black, the furnitures were black, the sheets were black. Even the big beautiful chandelier was black, but yet so luminous that it makes everything harmonious. You can even see a black porcelain bathtub in the corner of the room, facing up a huge mirror.

You stay still on the ground but you can see the black-haired boy sitting on his mattress, in front of you. The other boy is still behind you, as if he was watching you so you can’t run away.

“So, what brings you here, angel ?” The demon whispers, his magnetic voice enveloping your spine with countless chills.

“I… I didn’t do anything wrong ! I haven’t been banned from the Heavens ! I… You sigh, looking down while tears could easily be spotted in the corner of your eyes. I was chosen for, you know… The balance of both worlds, Sir.”

You can hear his hums, crossing his legs in the most elegant way. An almost invisible smile was on his lips, again.

“You know you won’t be able to go back to your beloved place, don’t you ? Unless you make me fall for you which is… His laugh was loud enough to dissuade you, well… Impossible.”

The way his voice was suddenly cold scared you. Maybe that stupid rule was only here to allow the angels to keep hope. Even tho everyone knows it was already hopeless for them.

“What’s your name ?” His voice had become soft again and he starts to take off his leather gloves so you can see his beautiful long fingers. His nails were painted in black and he wears no less than ten rings.

“I’m… I’m Y/N, Sir.” You can see him nod, rubbing his hands slowly between them.

“You can call me Hyunjin when it’s only the two of us. Now that you’re mine you know that we have to be intimate, am I wrong ?”

You didn’t know what it really means but you nod. Of course, you’ve heard that in Hell, creatures love to do weird and, well… evil things. They were as wild as the animals. And of course, you couldn’t forget about that rumor that said that they hunt animals for their own pleasure. Or that other rumor saying that sex is an integral part of their lives. You shake your head just thinking about that and that’s when you realize that Hyunjin was standing in front of you with the creepiest smile.

“You’ll be there with me. For the eternity, angel.”

Despite the fact that the whole situation was surreal for you, the fact that Mammon, or Hyunjin, was being what is akin to kindness to you seem… Utterly wrong. Why was he even nice ? And why were his eyes abnormally and horrifically black suddenly ?

—————————————☠︎︎ —————————————

━ TAGLIST ; @sailorhyunjinz - @minholuvs - @that-anxious-bisexual - @ohmysparkle - @yuminsung - @minaamhh - @kittykatvenom - @bubblelixie - @imagineinnie - @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot - @etherealeeknow - @linours - @starry-jinnie @p0t4t0don14ll - @straytannies - @binnie-m00n - @formidxble - @skzcvre - @titleisyettobemade - @bythesunnotbythemoon - @nada-disso - @characha - @lizsvcks - @pxnidxjks - @ninjaleeknow - @solistired - @keloiu - @bluesensitivesoul - @pixieskz (if you want to be added to the taglist feel free to send me an ask!)

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #hyunjin x reader #heaven or hell ; the serie

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nctsworld · 3 years

Text

in a king-size, say i’m your queen

✩‌ renjun ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ prince!renjun | fluff | smut | ‌3.4k

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ you’re drawn to the kingdom’s prince staying at your family’s inn. on the night before he leaves, you exchange good-byes in the form of a kiss and more. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (near the end), unprotected s*x, f*ngering, oral s*x (m receiving), mentions of alcohol/drinking, commoner!reader, dash of angst RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ mature PROMPT ⇾‌ prince/royalty au // fluff + smut REQ BY ⇾‌ anonymous ‌

⇾‌ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

“Prince Huang, this is my family, who will be looking after you during your stay.”

Your father awoke everyone from deep slumber in the middle of the night, hollering at everyone to put on their work clothes in a hurry. Little did anyone expect the actual prince himself to be taking a rest at your family’s inn, for several days apparently.

As the youngest and only daughter among your kin, your father introduces you last in line to greet the prince and his companions. With sleep still in your eyes, you curtsy as gracefully as you can, once towards the prince and another towards his followers.

The sleep in your eyes disappears as your eyelids suddenly bloom at your first clear look at the man standing a few steps across from you.

Everyone within the kingdom obviously knew of the royal family, but being this far from the mainland never granted you the chance to see them in-person. There were rumours far and wide of how captivating and beautiful the family was, especially the prince, but you assumed they were exaggerating, fueling the propaganda mill that all royalty were gorgeous, godly beings.

Oh, to be absolutely wrong.

Air’s snatched from your lungs when his warm smile burgeons, warming the room more than the fireplace ever could.

He holds his gaze on you, placing a palm on his chest and saying, “My dearest apologies for disturbing your dreams. It was a must though; we haven’t stopped anywhere in days and finally found your inn.”

Your father replies to his words, while you blink observantly at the royal figure. You wonder if it’s due to the lack of sleep or simply all in your head, but you swear his glances waver over at you more than your other family members.

“Well, I will retire to bed now and won’t be requiring your services until morning. Please resume your slumbers, and I wish you all the sweetest of dreams.”

Puffing his cheeks cutely, he bends his head slightly towards your family, while all of you dip and bow to him. When you two jointly look up, your gaze surely connects with his.

Funny enough, his wish comes true as his beauty rules over your dreams, molding them into sweet ones, for the rest of the night.

On the second morning of his stay, you watch him relaxing at the back of the inn among the luscious greenery. In a loose white-button up, he’s sitting by himself, save for a guard nearby, and lounging in a chair under the spring sun.

Prior to starting on your tasks for the day, you stroll towards him with a jug in hand. Smiling freely, his eyes are shut as you approach him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Your Royal Highness—”

His eyes flutter open at your divine voice and his smile deepens.

“But would you care for some lemon juice?”

The boyish man hums in acceptance and he’s glued to how you carefully pour the liquid into his chalice. His eyes track the path of your departure after you leave the jug on the table and head towards a group of trees in the farther end of the garden.

Though he delights in the picturesque image of you skillfully picking the yellow fruit, which he assumes are lemons, off the tree from your wooden ladder and dropping them into the bucket hanging from your hand, a desire simmers in his stomach to be in your presence. The prince's guard follows behind him discreetly as the handsome individual makes his way over and speaks to you from below.

“May I assist you?” he offers.

His appearance startles you for a moment, then your stare unintentionally drops over the exposed skin of his upper frame. You ponder over the smoothness of his skin and imagine yourself leaving kisses upon his clavicle, on his chest, going downward further and further...

Clearing your throat and shaking your head to focus, you airily laugh at his question. The highness’s eyebrows crease, perplexed by your response.

“Prince Huang—”

“Call me Renjun, please,” he interrupts, laying a palm against his chest. “I insist.”

“Prince Huang,” you reiterate, not wanting to breach the formalities. “It’s my duty—and an honor if I may add—to pick these lemons for you, not yours.”

“Well, as prince,” Renjun gently seizes the bucket away from your grasp. “I order you to allow me to assist you.”

Incredulously, you stare at him for a lingering moment and he engages equally, delving into your glowing aura.

Since you can’t reject his order, you yield and continue to pick the lemons off the tree, now plopping them into the bucket held by Renjun. Throughout the comfortable silence, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you for one second, admiring how elegant you are with the light breeze blowing through your hair.

He wonders to himself if you’re aware of your devastating beauty.

A couple of nights pass and during one evening, in the shared resting area, you find Renjun situated adjacent to the fireplace, reading a book alone (with a guard lurking close by, of course).

The prince’s features are already so soft, but he seems ethereal with the fire’s glow against his face. You’re reminded of the first night he arrived.

As you usually do, you query if he needs anything before you retire to your room.

He replies negatively, but then adds, “Would you like to hear some of the story I’m reading before bed?”

Shaking your head, you tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“Not at all,” Renjun beams. He gestures for you to sit in the seat beside him, and you do so with prickling cheeks.

His fingers flip a few pages back and he tells the short story from the beginning. Your cheek tips into your palm as you listen intently. Yes, the story is intriguing, but you’re also focused on Renjun’s voice. It’s soothing, yet lively with the specific parts in which he modulates his tone to flow perfectly with the storytelling.

And then you drift over his plush, kissable lips. You will yourself to focus on the story, rather than the reader.

In between his reading, he peers up from the pages to see if you’re still interested to hear the rest of the story, not wanting to waste your time nor bore you to death. He reads the dazzling expression on your face as a signal to finish until the very end.

When it’s over, Renjun asks if you enjoyed it. You hum positively and stand up, excusing yourself to formally leave for the night. You exchange pleasant good-nights and sweet dreams. While you shuffle off, before you’re past the doorway, he pipes up—

“Perhaps I can read you another story tomorrow evening?”

You turn around by the end of his sentence, grasping onto the doorframe.

Renjun continues, his grip tightening around the closed book. “If you wish.”

Your lips press together, in hopes to suppress a grin. It doesn’t work too well.

“I’d like that very much.”

Time flies, and it’s already the second to last day before Renjun’s departure. Your family decides to arrange a party at the inn, inviting the fellow townspeople to join as well.

Fittingly, Renjun sits in the middle of the long table alongside his associates and is entertained by the spectacle of the event. After the townspeople grant him gifts and dinner is served, the dancing commences. Throughout the evening, he keeps a constant eye out for you.

All night, you serve the guests and barely have time to properly eat your own meal. However, as the night lengthens, your parents urge you to live a little. In the middle of the hall, you rush to unite with your close friends, clasping onto their hands and dancing around in circles to the merry music.

The royal figure radiates, enticed from the scene of you laughing and jumping in joy, having never seen this side of you before. His heart flops at the endearing sight and an itch overcomes him. Taking a sip of his wine, Renjun anxiously wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and heads towards you onto the dance floor.

Gasps trail behind his steps as he floats through the domino effect of bowing people. He casually says his thank you’s to everyone in passing and as the domino effect finally reaches a stop within the middle of the room, you’re the last one to formally greet him.

“Your Royal Highness,” you curtsy with a small smile.

He acknowledges with a bow of his head and shocks you by holding his palm out.

“May I share a dance with you?”

Your heart pounds in your ears as you glance around the room to ensure he’s talking to you and not mistakenly someone else. Additionally, you’re surveying the prospects because you are definitely not the most worthy to dance with royalty; the mayor’s daughter should be owed this dance, not you. You also shamefully touch your work outfit, wishing you were wearing something cleaner and more extravagant.

“Prince Huang, are you sure you want to dance with me?” you murmur, despite how everyone quieted down and can hear what you’re saying.

“Of course,” he stretches out for your hand and possesses it in his.

“Who else would I want to share a dance with?”

Your friends and all other parties now disperse and surround the two of you, dancing to their own fulfillment as you’re left in an imaginary bubble with just Renjun. Every twirl, spin, and bounce generates endless vivacious laughter from the both of you. You dance deeper into the night until your faces and feet soon ache, until it was almost only the two of you on the dance floor.

Because of the aching, you stumble at one point, crashing into Renjun’s body.

He catches you in his arms. You look up into his eyes, then at his lips merely fingertips away from yours. Renjun’s liquored panting fans your face and you drown in it without reservation.

His eyes flicker to your lips too, and he gulps. Bravely, he raises his palm to caress your cheek, but as his skin touches yours, it jolts you to your core, popping you out of your secluded bubble and dragging you into reality.

Pulling apart from him, the prince asks if you’re okay.

You nod thoughtlessly, quickly thank him for the dance, and spew that you should begin to clean-up the hall, leaving him on the dance floor.

Renjun brings a finger to his lips and watches you run off.

The last evening of his stay finally arrives. In your nightgown before bedtime, forgetting to ask if he needed anything before you changed out of your work clothes, you knock on his room’s door with the guard on-duty beside it.

His muffled voice beckons you to come in, and you open the door ajar to creep your head through the space. Noticing it’s you, he immediately drops the book he was reading onto his bedside table.

“Prince Huang, did you need anything else before you leave tomorrow?”

Legs dangling off the largest bed at the inn, he thinks to himself for a few moments. He twists his mouth to one side, tapping a finger on his chin.

“I think I have everything in order...”

Then, he tilts his head to one side and puckers his lips. He darts onto his feet and adds, “Can you come in for a moment though? And please shut the door behind you.”

You’re taken aback by his request. Nevertheless, you fulfill it and close the door behind you as you walk in. Renjun’s eyes widen at the sight of you in your nightgown, clicking together why you didn’t fully come into his room in the first place.

You rub one of your arms. “Sorry for my indecent clothing—”

“No, I’m sorry, uhm,” he palms the back of his neck nervously. “I just wanted to say a few words, so I’ll be quick.”

He steps closer to you. Both of you stand in the middle of the room and he continues.

“Before I leave, I want to make sure you know that I quite enjoyed my stay here because of you and your family’s fine service, but I enjoyed it even more because of your cordial company.”

At his earnest appraisal and personal compliment, your cheeks flare and your jaw dangles. You bow with your head. “Thank you, Prince Huang.”

Renjun then faces the floor and picks at his fingers, trying to formulate his thoughts.

“I don’t normally do this and I’m about to ask the following not as a prince, but as a normal man. And let me preface it by saying that, as a man of my word, you are not obligated or pressured to agree to what I’m about to ask; you have every right to say no.”

He sputters everything so fast, it takes a bit for you to process his words. When it sinks in, you’re still unsure exactly what he’s talking about. Worried, you raise your eyebrows, anticipating his inquiry.

Noting your confusion, he exhales a lengthy breath and goes straight to the point.

“As a send-off and to demonstrate my gratitude…”

He meets your gaze.

“May I kiss you?”

Your jaw, along with your eyes, hangs this time. Awestruck, you blink rapidly and inhale sharply as you stay frozen in place.

“I know it may be one-sided, but at yesterday’s gathering, I thought we shared a special moment and perhaps it’s my fault I acted upon it since we were among people, so I apologize for that—”

“You may kiss me,” you cut him off, relieved to hear his thoughts, and close the space between yourselves.

It’s his turn to don the rapid blinking.

“Are-are you sure?”

Cautiously, his palm cups your cheek, mirroring the memory of last night, then he adds his other.

“Yes, Pr-”

“Renjun, please.”

“Yes, Renjun—”

You collide as he captures your lips. He exudes innocence and it shows in his kissing; he starts off gently and barely expands his mouth. Each movement is lovely and oozes affection. Your fingers tug lightly at his nightwear, body humming emphatically in response.

However, as he tests the water, his kissing is soon stripped of innocence and is replaced by a sinful hunger. While his tongue slips into your mouth, grazing against your teeth, his hands traverse your body and confront your waist and neck, squeezing them upon arrival. You eagerly reciprocate his change of pace, desperately running your fingers through his hair and angling your neck to better the searing, open-mouthed kisses.

Since there aren’t many layers covering either of you, you’re blatantly aware of Renjun’s growing desire against your body.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he pants, “May I take you to bed?”

You bob your head fervently and croak, “Yes.”

“Yes…?”

You grin into the next kiss at his playfulness.

“Yes, Renjun.”

In retrospect, being taken in a guest room at your family’s inn was strange, but you couldn’t think much of it within the moment.

At the moment, all you yearn for is Renjun’s weight on you, locking your body into the bed with his. Lip-locked as he lays you down, he satisfies your yearning hastily.

While he dominates your neck, one of his hands is rashly underneath your nightgown and ascends to the haven of your breasts. You gasp at the initial contact, your fingers tightening in his hair and over his shoulder blade.

He kneads the meat of your tits momentarily, but he’s more fixated on attending to your nipples. Renjun’s thumb tenderly rubs over them prior to his loving pinches. At this point, his mouth zones in and nibbles on your earlobe, so he listens to your rising panting and erotic moans crystal clear.

Following his massaging and playing of your other breast, he withdraws from you to disrobe your layer in one-go and you return the favour to peel away his.

Renjun’s purity ignites once more as he reveres your bare body, lovingly scanning all your curves and lines.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” he whispers.

Fluttering your eyelids, you lightly bite your bottom lip between your teeth. Truly, it was too easy for him to make your cheeks spark this often. He converges with your mouth sweetly before he wraps his pretty lips around your nub.

“Oh, my God, Renjun—”

Because your eyes snap in gratification, you can’t see the smirk on his face. He indulges in you calling him by his first name, especially so melodiously and within this context. A hand finds purchase upon the neighbouring breast, and another hovers under your warmth. Your hips buck heedlessly, begging for his fingers to dive further.

They do so when he switches his embrace upon your breasts. Although you know he must feel it, the obscene, loud sounds of him fingering your sex confirm how wet you are for him. Renjun peeks an eye open to your wanton self. He adores the view in addition to your dripping pleasure contracting and spilling over his digits.

Moving ahead, he retreats from you and mounts himself on the bed on his knees, stroking himself to harden himself for what’s to come. Despite still being breathless from your high, you rise onto your knees to match his stance in front of him.

Your dominant hand grasps his possession, taking over for him. Simultaneously, your mouth finally has the chance to reign over the smoothness of his frame—his neck, his carved clavicle, the expanse area of his chest, and his soft abdomen. He sighs blissfully, eyes batting.

Your mouth proceeds lower to where your hand is located and aids to the swelling of Renjun’s desire. He gawks, mouth hanging, at the beautiful arching of your back and your enthusiasm as you engulf him.

Gripping him by the base, you stroke to the measure of your bobbing. To keep him enraptured, you occasionally focus on his tip, such as with the swirling and flicking of your tongue and initiating vigorous, targeted sucking. Not wanting him to reach climax yet, you pull away from him with a pop, but not before you leave a delicate kiss upon the glossy apex.

Once again, you recline downward onto the bed, except now with spread legs. Renjun pumps his wet length and lines it up with your glistening crevice. You stare at his cock upon penetration, and the flood of sensations from the impact causes you to crane your head into the pillow.

Hands encompassing your waist, the lover thrusts gradually at first, allowing you to acclimatize to his girth. After some time, he surrenders to his carnal urges and plunges deeper with speed. Your chest heaves as your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moons on his skin. Lowering himself, he secures your lips for a fleeting, sentimental moment.

To your surprise, Renjun picks up the rhythm even further, leading you to wail his name and incoherent noises repeatedly. In hopes to quell yourself, you lightly bite down on the meat of your index finger. It only partially helps since whimpers still trickle out from you.

Both of you are nearing. Aching to be even more intimate with you, his hand flees from the flank of your body and over your head to lace his fingers with yours. His intertwining compresses alongside the pinching of his face. With your finger in pain, you release it and let loose. As one, you moan in sync with Renjun and you break together. He extracts himself, painting your stomach in white ribbons.

Inhaling much needed air, you settle upon Renjun’s chest with his arm around you. He trifles with your fingers in his before he kisses the back of your hand.

“If you ever have the chance to come by the kingdom, I implore you to find me.”

Peering up at him, you agree enthusiastically. “Of course, Renjun.”

With pink tinting over his face, he cups you by your chin.

“Promise?”

Hesitancy pumps through your blood. You know the chances of you ever leaving your home town would be very unlikely, and even if you could, you two could never be together for he is of royal blood, and you of none.

Nevertheless, you dare not to break the twinkling, awaited expression upon his face, so you reply—

“I promise.”

Sharing another kiss, you stay with him in the bed for a little while longer, savoring the brief amour as much as possible.

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obeyme-kaidii-writes · 3 years

Text

Period Comfort

All Brothers x gn!MC

NOTE - obviously this story is about people with uteruses. But it’s still gender neutral because more than just females have them. This is based on my personal experience with my horrible periods. Some people may feel differently and that’s ok too. 👍🏻

Format - Headcanons / Scenarios

Words - 1895

Content warnings - talk of periods, but other than that just lots of fluff and cuddles

Prompt/Inspiration - self-indulgent comfort piece, (aka I’m on my period and feeling grumpy)

Summary - You’re looking forward to your date this weekend with your favorite demon when the unthinkable happens - your period starts. The boys drop by to check on you.

AO3

Scene -

Things had been going so well. The sun (well, the moon) was shining, the birds (crows) were singing (squawking). It was a lovely day in the Devildom. Who cares if you had been a little emotional the past couple of days? You didn’t. You had plans for this weekend with your favorite demon and you were not about to let anything get you down.

That’s when you felt it. It must be my stomach, you thought, so you ignored it. Then you felt it again. Is it a cramp? Nah can’t be a cramp, you argued with yourself.

And then you realized what you were doing - it’s the same thing you do every time your cycle rolls around: you try to convince yourself that your accursed uterus wasn’t deciding to shed it’s lining at the most inconvenient time. And you knew from experience, anytime you had that conversation with yourself that that is exactly what was going on, and only disaster awaited you if you continued to ignore your own intuition.

So you dragged yourself to your bathroom, inserted/applied the period product of choice, and popped a couple ibuprofen as a preventative measure, before crawling into bed. It occurred to you then that you should probably message the other residents of the House of Lamentation to inform them they were not to disturb you for a week or there would be...consequences. But before you could even turn on your DDD, there was a knock on your door and in walked….

Lucifer

You were relieved to see it was Lucifer, you knew he wouldn’t pester you.

He had come to check on you, and remind you of your upcoming date

Was immediately concerned when he saw you glaring out from under your bundle of blankets

He asks if you’re feeling ok, and you explain about your situation

He’s not all that familiar with human anatomy, but this isn’t the first time you basically went into hibernation mode

It occurs to him you’ll probably not be feeling up to your date, so he says you can reschedule when you’re feeling better.

Offers to bring you anything you might need, and promises to keep his brothers away so you can rest

Kisses you on the forehead before leaving, but you pull him back for a real kiss. He smirks at you because he knew that’s how you’d react.

No one else comes to your door for the rest of your cycle (except Lucifer when he brings your meals)

Lucifer had to string Mammon up a few times when he caught him trying to sneak into your room

Mammon

You love your precious idiot to bits, but he’s a little clueless sometimes. Like now when he didn’t immediately realize the death glare you shot him when he came into your room unannounced and started talking to you about your weekend plans

Finally stops to see why you aren’t responding and notices the look you’re giving him from under your blankets. His blood runs cold and he starts to panic internally...did he do something? Did he say something?

You have mercy on the poor boy and call him over, he sits on the bed next to you and holds your free hand while you explain what’s wrong

You tell him that you’ll need to reschedule your date, and he’s a bit disappointed at that, but he reassures you it’s fine

Huge sigh of relief from him when he realizes he didn’t screw anything up. Immediately switches gears to wanting to know what he can do for you.

You let him know you really just want quiet and to sleep, and he asks if he could stay, cue the biggest puppy dog eyes 🥺

You tell him he can, but he has to promise to sit still and not to talk. He swears that he can manage that.

To your great surprise, he does. He distracts himself by browsing Akuzon, and you cuddle up next to him for a nice, cozy nap, with him occasionally pressing kisses to the top of your head

Leviathan

Unlike Mammon, he notices you glaring at him immediately and freezes. He knew he shouldn’t have come. You might have been a couple but of course you wouldn’t want him around all the time, right?

Once you realize it’s Levi, you relax a little and smile at him. He’s still nervous so reach out your hand to him until he comes over.

He stands next to your bed holding your hand while you explain to him what’s going on

He really doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do here. Do you want to be left alone? Should he stay? It’s not contagious is it? You aren’t going to die right?!

You reassure your poor panicking otaku that you aren’t dying, it’s not contagious, and that you really just want to rest.

That’s when he realizes that you probably won’t want to go on the date y’all had planned and he’s really disappointed, he can’t even hide it

You kiss the back of his hand, making him blush, and promise you’ll make it up to him

Feeling a little better, he asks if you want to watch an anime or something with him instead and you agree.

He sits next to you in bed with your head in his lap while you cuddle up to his legs.

He gets so engrossed in the show he doesn’t even notice when you fall asleep until the episode is done. He doesn’t want to wake you, so decides he’s just going to be stuck like that forever and picks out one of his favorites series to binge watch instead.

Satan

He raises an eyebrow at you when he sees the look you’re giving him

He notices the bottle of ibuprofen next to your bed and quickly pieces together what must be going on

He does have a basic understanding of human anatomy, but the nuances like your food cravings and self comfort measures are unknown to him

He catches on pretty fast once you explain it though, he may make a couple odd suggestions that he read about once or twice

You let him know that you won’t be able to go on your date that weekend, and he is only concerned with comforting you

Gives you a sweet kiss to your forehead before asking if you need anything, which he’ll fetch immediately

You ask him if he’ll stay with you, just so you can have him close and of course he agrees. He heads back to his room to grab a couple of books for himself, and one for you too, just in case you feel up to reading.

By the time he returns, you’ve already fallen asleep. He’ll make sure you’re tucked in and comfy, giving you another forehead kiss or two.

Takes a seat in the large lounge chair in your room and quietly reads until it’s time for dinner

Asmodeus

He’s the kinda guy that has been tracking your cycle for you. He just can’t help it.

So when he opens the door, he already has some of your favorite snacks and a heating pad in his arms

You’re really relieved to see him. If there is one thing Asmo knows how to do, it’s pamper you! (Besides his other talents of course)

He makes sure the snacks are within easy reach of your bed, and sets up the heating pad for you so you can cuddle with it when needed

Tells you right away that you don’t need to worry about the date, he’s already had it rescheduled.

Asks you if there is anything he can do for you, and you ask if he can just cuddle with you

He’s happy to agree, and crawls into bed alongside you, with you resting your head on his chest.

If you’re feeling up to it, he’ll even brush and braid/style your hair. But if you don’t feel like being touched he’ll just gently hold you in his arms

While you’re sleeping, he does manage to sneak in a few cute selfies snuggling with you. He’ll send you the best ones...once your period is over and he knows you'll no longer be mad about it 🙃

Beelzebub

He is really confused when he walks in and sees how grumpy you look. It kinda reminds him of how Belphie looks when his naps get interrupted so he doesn’t take it personally.

You smile at him once you realize it’s Beel and not anyone else

He comes and sits on the bed next to you, brushing your hair out of your face so he can get a better look at you

You explain why you aren’t feeling well, and he immediately grows concerned. It takes a lot of convincing to assure him that you’ll be fine in just a few days

Realizes that your date will need to be rescheduled and tells you not to worry about it. He just wants you to feel better soon.

When you mention that you have some favorite foods that you crave during this time of month, he is all too happy to fetch them for you

Like seriously - he gets Beel-sized quantities for you, and you’ll probably get sick of whatever it is by the time your period is over, so be sure to ask him to share otherwise you won’t finish it all in your own

He asks if you feel up to cuddling or if you’d rather be left alone (he really doesn’t want to leave you alone though)

If you agree to cuddles, he’ll wrap you up in his arms, holding you securely. It’ll be so nice and warm and comforting you’ll fall asleep really quickly. He won’t be far behind you either.

Belphegor

Doesn’t hesitate to ask you who peed in your Cheerios

You have to laugh at that, and then explain how you’re feeling and why

He realizes right away you won’t be able to go on your date, but won’t say anything about it unless you bring it up. He doesn’t want you to feel pressured.

He also gets a little nervous at first about your health and safety, so expect to need to explain to him that it’s a normal part of human life

He’s still going to be feeling really protective of you though, and will make sure under no circumstances that his brothers bother you. Beel can come visit because he gives good cuddles, but that’s it.

When you mention that you really just want to sleep, his face lights up. Naps are only his favorite thing in the world to do with you, so he’s happy to be able to comfort you this way

You’ll lay on your side and he’ll spoon you from behind. He’ll even give you his cow pillow to snuggle as he holds you. It smells just like him, which you find very relaxing.

For once, he doesn’t fall asleep until he’s sure you’re asleep. Then he’ll give you plenty of gentle kisses to your neck and shoulders before cuddling up to you and falling asleep himself.

His arms will stay wrapped around you the whole time, making sure you stay warm and comfortable.

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Text

Full Mast - Part 2

Summary: Your idyllic life as a trophy wife of a rich lord is suddenly disturbed with the arrival of a pirate ship and a kidnapping that goes wrong... leaving you in the care of a band of pirates that seem to treat you better than your husband ever did.

Part 1,

Fandoms: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie, Mission Impossible: Fallout, Night Hunter, Hellraiser Hellworld

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader, August Walker x Reader, Walter Marshall x Reader, Mikey (Hellraiser) x Reader.

A/N: This is a CRACK FIC. After a brief discussion with @nuggsmum about the cheap romance novels that you could find in the 80′s and 90′s, i called upon the awful storylines, plot holes, and general cheesyness of those books that walked so fanfiction could run. Read the warnings please.

Storyboard note: The only artwork i could find that was suitable to show a Henry-like character included the woman seen above. I tried to crop as much of her out as possible, the story itself does not describe the female reader at all.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (F Recieving), Blowjobs, Multiple Blowjobs, Multiple Partners, Implied Age Gap (but never confirmed). Pretty Poly Pirates.

Only the finest organic free range typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Full Mast part 2

Standing in the grand cabin you took in your surroundings; the large table that was half covered in maps, the scattered chests and crates, the large four poster bed with messy linens. You wondered if the Captain had many other women between those sheets, or whether he kept his liaisons to his time on shore. At the mere thought of the man that had just taken your innocence you felt your stomach clench and another wave of arousal coat your already soaked petals.

A quiet knock at the door drew your attention, smiling when you saw Mikey come in pulling a large chest and setting it down in the middle of the room;

“So err… Captain says there should be some stuff in here that will be ok for you, so umm… help yourself Miss…”

“Thank you Mikey”

The young man must be at least 20 yet a blush covered his cheeks as you spoke to him, and with a nervous smile he nodded his head and left the room, half tripping on the rug as he did so before slamming the door shut.

Stripping out of your ruined clothing you saw a pitcher of water and a bowl on the side, using it to wash the Captain's seed from your thighs. Crossing the room in just your silk stockings you opened the chest and pulled out a number of items, gauging what would fit. Looking around you set the items onto the large bed, pulling the covers straight as you made your choice and a thought came to mind.

Sy stood outside his cabin, his hand hovering over the door handle. What had he gotten himself into? When he’d heard that his old friend Walter was having issues on the island, he’d set sail immediately and between the two of them and his right hand man Walter, they’d come up with a fool proof plan; kidnap the lord’s young trophy wife, demand not even a ransom - just what they were due, return her unharmed. Instead he ended up with another officer onboard, a woman on his ship that was said to bring bad luck, and the puzzle of what the hell to do with her now it had been made abundantly clear that her husband didn’t want her back. Taking a deep breath he entered the room, expecting the worst…

“Darlin?... Don’t be mad…”

He looked around the room, surprised that at first he wasn’t pelted with whatever wasn’t tied down, but when he couldn’t see you at all he frowned.

“Captain, over here…”

His jaw dropped when he saw you, kneeling on his bed, bare save for your stockings and a smile. Crossing the room he came to stand at the foot of the bed, licking his lips as his gaze traversed your naked body;

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes…I don’t know what i was expecting, but it wasn’t this…”

With a single finger he beconned you towards him, watching as you moved until you were up on your knees, his large hand at the back of your neck and you were kissing again, his glorious tongue exploring your mouth as your hands clung to his shirt. Deliberately falling back on the bed you pulled him with you, his mouth making its way to your breasts where he lavished each one with full mouthed kisses, his tongue laving over the hardened peaks before pressing a trail of kisses down your stomach before settled at the apex of your thighs;

“Gotta be the prettiest little Puss i’ve seen in a long time, bet you’re as sweet as a peach too…”

His tongue swiped a wide path through your folds, your fingers clawing at the sheets as his beard tickled you and he did to you things you’d only read about in the secretive books that were hidden in the depths of your husbands library.

“Oh Captain!” you gasped as his tongue dived into your soaked entrance, his nose rubbing at your sensitive clit and you could feel your stomach tightening with anticipation of the inevitable. Seemingly in no need of air he continued to work the thick muscle inside of you, driving you closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure until the point of no return was met and you came with a cry, your legs clamping around his head.

Finally he pulled himself free of your grasp, climbing up the bed until he was nestled between your thighs, his hardness pressing against your soaked core. Holding himself up on his strong arms he looked down at you beneath him;

“This time i’m gonna take my time and savour it…”

Your hands found their way to his breeches, unbuttoning him and gasping as his hot flesh sprung into your palm, heavy and weeping with need you guided him to your entrance. As he plunged into your depths the world seemed to fade around you; you’d had a taste of heaven and now you wanted more;

“You’re so big…”

“You want me to slow down Darlin?”

“No! It feels… so good…”

With practiced skill he rocked into you, slow but rough thrusts that had his length hitting a spot deep inside you’d had no idea that existed. The man had probably fucked his way around half of the Carribean but for a barely touched blossom as yourself he cherished the way your petals opened around him.

He continued to fuck you closer and closer to orgasm, feeling your body tighten around him and tremble, he slid a hand between your bodies and rubbed at your sensitive pearl, a grin spreading across his face as you came again with a shout of his rank;

“That’s a good girl, so fucking good… almost there…”

He quickly pulled out and spilled his seed over your stomach, watching as rope after rope of his creamy seed patterned your body, before he fell to your side, his chest heaving. Covering his eyes he let out a shaky breath;

“What the fuck have i gotten myself into…” He peeped out from between his fingers, smiling at you before pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, finally resting his forehead against yours; “Wait there a moment Darlin, i’ll get you cleaned up”

You’d dressed in front of your Captain, watching how he admired your choices from where he sat at the long table;

“Wasn’t expecting you to go for breeches…” he commented as you fastened the half length velvet garment, your stockings beneath the knee length trousers. A loose shirt with a wide leather belt fastening it at your waist was the only other garment you put on, standing in front of him and doing a little twirl; “Very nice… and practical”

“I spent ten years of my childhood aboard spice ships, running up ladders and rigging in skirts was a recipe for disaster.”

You crossed the room and sat across his lap;

“So, how is this going to work? You gonna drop me at the next port, leave me to my own devices? Wait until we’re in shark infested waters and throw me overboard?”

“What? Now why would i do that to a pretty little thing like you?”

“Well I know you didn’t end up with the outcome you were hoping for, and now you’re stuck with a ransomee that isn’t due any ransom”

He let out a sigh;

“I wouldn’t do that… it ain’t your fault your husband had the balls of a eunuch. No, i’m sure we can find a use for you, even if it’s just warming my bed… did you have an education?”

“Of sorts. Whenever we docked in Grace Bay i’d see a governess. I can speak spanish, french, and italian” you nodded to the maps spread over the table; “... and i can chart courses and know the currents of the Indies better than anyone that ever sailed on the spice route”

You gently stroked his beard;

“So Captain, what do you want me to do?”

“All of the above and more…” he stroked your cheek; “I won’t always be able to please you in bed, and from the signs of it you’ve got quite a carnal appetite...So, firstly you can call me Sy when its just us or the officers. When we’re on deck it’s Captain like everyone else. Secondly, if you want it, my officers could do with a bedmate, if you don’t mind sharing?”

Your eyebrows shot up so far you were surprised they didn’t meet your hair;

“Share me with your officers? Who…”

“There’s the Constable - who you’ll know from town - Walter Marshall, and the Armoury Officer - August Walker, and you’ve met Michael, he’s first mate”

“O-Okay”

“You’re alright with that?”

Stroking his beard you leant forwards and kissed him;

“Yes, yes I am. I’ve always wanted a little more adventure in my life, and now here it is”

“Well, you can be the one to decide when you want to go to the others, i’ll leave that move to you… i wont say anything yet”

“Thank you Sy, let's tell them Friday night. You can tell them.”

“Anything for my little Rose” he pressed his face to your neck and inhaled; “Still smell as sweet as that rose garden…”

“You can call me Rose if you like?”

“A new name for a new start?”

“Something like that” you grinned at him.

You’d spent four nights in the arms of Sy, some nights just falling asleep in each others arms, other’s you would fuck until dawn. That particular morning you’d taken him in your mouth and he’d taught you how to suck a man, working your tongue and lips over his hot flesh until he’d flooded your mouth with his thick salty seed. He’d held your jaw as he finished;

“Now be a good girl and swallow it”

You gulped down the mouthful before smiling;

“Tasty”

With a laugh he kissed you, before giving your naked ass a cheeky spank as he rolled out of bed;

“You gonna join me on deck?”

You stretched and sighed;

“I’m gonna try and find that earring i dropped when you had me bent over the table last night…”

Sy entered his cabin just as the ship’s cook was leaving, nodding to the meal he’d set out;

“Creole Stew tonight Cap’n, bread and ale like always”

“Thanks. Have you seen Rose?”

“No Sir”

Nodding Sy entered his cabin with a weary sigh, it had been a long day and all he really wanted to do was crawl into bed to sleep, grateful it was Friday which meant August took early watch on deck the next day, but he had dinner with the other officers and he hadn’t seen you for the last few hours, last he knew you were still on the hunt for your lost earring. Leaving the door ajar he sat at the table and started to eat, moments later Walter and August joining him.

“Where’s the others?” Walter asked as he sat, helping himself to a large chunk of bread

“Mikey is in the crows nest, he’ll be down shortly” August confirmed; “Haven’t seen Rose for a while though”

“Rose?”

“Sy’s bit of fluff. Decided as its a new start onboard she may as well choose a new name. Apparently its because Sy say’s she smells of Roses”

Walter snorted out a low laugh;

“She’s gonna be smelling of Sy sooner or later”

Sy listened to his two oldest friends banter back and forth, unaware of the surprise he was about to get. Hearing quick footfalls coming along the corridor he looked up to see Mikey at the doorway just as two soft hands pressed to his thighs from beneath the table. He nodded to Mikey to take a seat, before leaning back and peering down to his lap, hiding his surprise when he saw you on your knees beneath the table, hidden from the view of the rest of the party by the many overhanging maps and the low candle light.

Grabbing a chunk of bread he stayed leaning back but parted his thighs wide, wide enough to allow you to unfasten him and pump his hardening length and slip him into your mouth.

“Dig in boys, its gonna be a spicy meal tonight!”

As you worked quickly with your new found skills, sucking on the bulbous head as you fondled his heavy ballsack with your free hand, working quickly and silently as the men above you talked amongst themselves. You could feel Sy’s leg start to tremble, his hand sliding beneath the table to hold your head in place, and as you relaxed your jaw you felt his hot seed flood your mouth.

“WOO!” he exclaimed above you; “This stew is HOT!”

He took a deep breath and slapped his hand on the table with a laugh, before you tucked him carefully back into his breeches and you continued with your plan.

“Sy, we need to consider restocking the armoury” August started; “Scuttling the boats used up a lot of ammunitionnnnnnnnn”

Sy looked up and smirked, August looking at him wide eyed but recovering quickly, clearing his throat;

“Anyway as i was saying… umm... wow, the stew… the spice really hits after a while doesn’t it…”

August scrunched his face and rested his hand on his fist, before grabbing his tankard of ale and taking a large gulp, some of it spilling from the sides of his mouth as he spluttered on the liquid that did only a little to hide the groan. Sy shovelled another mouthful of stew into his mouth to hide his grin as August sat back in his chair, a half glare on his face.

Walter frowned at both of the older men;

“I have no idea what you two are on about, this stew is fine”

August wiped the slight sheen of sweat from his brow, before finally sitting straight and digging back into his meal;

“Walt, just wait, it takes a while to hit you but when it does… ooooh boy it takes your breath away”

The big bear of a man frowned and shovelled another mouthful in, before his eyes went wide. Swallowing awkwardly he nodded, shifting in his seat;

“Oh… oh yeah… its hitting… wow, its a good burn, ya know…” taking a leaf out of August’s book he grabbed his tankard, taking a gulp as he fidgeted in his seat, both Sy and August doing poor jobs of hiding their smirks, whereas Mikey was sat at the far end of the table without the slightest clue as to what was going on;

“Seriously? You guys must be getting old, this stew ain’t spicy”

Sy raised his tankard to his son and grinned;

“Just wait, it’ll hit ya… anyway, i got an announcement to make”

The three other men looked at Sy, Walter’s gaze faltering now and again as his focal point seemed to change, but he shifted in his seat and leaned his elbow against the armrest of his chair, his hand sliding beneath the table as he muttered about ‘cramp’, when in fact his large hand was holding your head in place as he pushed deeper into your throat. Sy cleared his throat and continued;

“We all know the events at the island did not go to plan. We’re down on funds and supplies, and we’ve increased the crew numbers with those that helped with the land mutiny… we’ve also of course got Rose to consider, she never asked for any of this, but we have come up with a solution of sorts”

“I think i might know what that solution could be” Walter panted out, his face contorting into something that resembled a grimace as he muttered about spiciness and cramps again before with a sigh a smile spread across his face; “Ooooh that’s it… the cramps are going…”

“Anyway” Sy interjected with a wry smile; “Rose can speak numerous languages, can read and chart maps, she’s probably the best educated of everyone on the ship”

Just then Mikey squeaked and jumped in his chair, a thud sounding beneath the table;

“S-s-sorry... my knee hit the table”

Sy nodded with a smile;

“No problem Son, carry on. So Rose will also be here for other duties, but only for the officers at this table tonight” he paused; “And i think you all now know what those duties will be”

August nodded as he eagerly mopped up the last remaining morsels of his stew with a chunk of bread;

“That sounds a fucking brilliant idea Sy. She has the greatest tits...” at that moment Mikey let out a groan and his head thudded against the high back of his chair; “... and i think we all now know she’s got a fucking brilliant mouth on her”

There was little point in denying what had just happened, the very fact it was still going on and Mikey had so little control of his reactions as you were sucking his meaty dick, having just done the same to the other three men in the room from the darkness under the table. In fact the three older men started to chat away candidly as you lavished Mikey’s beautiful cock with your tongue, before taking him in hand to move your mouth down to his tight ballsack to suck on the warm globes. His athletic thighs had parted enough for you to get much closer than you had done with the other three men - all of whom had thighs that could crush a coconut - and it meant that the top of your head could now be seen in his lap by the other men.

“Grab her hair Mikey” August shouted from behind his refilled tankard; “Get deep down in her throat, its fucking amazing, feels like she’ll suck your soul out of your dick”

You felt Mikey's hands curl into your hair, holding your head in place as he started to rock his hips up, filling your mouth and throat. Gripping hard to his thighs you could feel him start to tremble, preparing yourself for the flood of seed and as he came with a cry, looking down at you as you stared back with wide innocent eyes that completely ruined him.

Finally he released his grip on you, and as you looked down you smiled at what came into view. Seconds later you were climbing out from beneath the table, turning to smile at the rest of the men as you fastened the earring to your lobe;

“Look Sy, i found my earring!”

Walking around the table you took the tankard of ale that August held out for you with a smile, before sitting across Sy’s lap;

“I think they like the idea”

Sy looked at the men around the table, his trusted friends and family and smiled;

“I think they do, my sweet Rose”

He clinked his tankard to yours and you both drank, the joyous laughter filling the room as the night continued.

__________________________________________________________

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Masterlist can be found on AO3, link here.

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flowercrown-bard · 3 years

Text

Jaskier keeps telling Geralt that he loves him. Geralt - like the idiot that he is - keeps thinking it’s meant as a joke.

3k. Read on AO3

„You may now kiss the bride.”

It took all of Geralt’s self-restraint not to groan, when the old lady standing in front of him and Jaskier slightly turned towards them and whispered audibly “When they told us that they had fallen in love at first sight, no one believed them. And now look at them! Getting married!”

Geralt didn’t answer. What even was he supposed to say? He doubted any cynicism about falling out of love as quickly as falling into it would be appreciated and he had nothing more personal to say. After all, he didn’t even know the couple. The only reason he even was at the wedding, was because Jaskier had dragged him here with the promise of wine. And because of the fact that it would make Jaskier happy. Seeing Jaskier smile and dance would make up for the people looking at Geralt like he was out of place here. Which he was.

Thankfully, he was spared having to answer, because Jaskier did it for him.

“It is terribly romantic.” He turned to Geralt with a bright smile and a twinkle in his eyes. “Say, do you believe in love at first sight, Geralt?”

This time, the reaction couldn’t be supressed. Multiple people threw him dirty looks as he snorted.

“Absolutely not.” Jaskier gasped, clearly affronted, and just to see his reaction, Geralt added “Lust, sure. Some affection, maybe. But falling in love within minutes of meeting someone just sounds shallow and like something only idiots would do.”

“Are you saying I am an idiot then?” Jaskier challenged with a lifted chin.

“Definitely.”

Geralt’s lips twitched upwards as Jaskier tried to not show his outrage too loudly, lest the festivities would be disturbed.

“You!” He stage-whispered and stabbed an accusatory finger at Geralt’s chest. “You are impossible! And just for the record, you were supposed to ask ‘why’.”

Geralt lifted his eyebrows, lips still curled into a teasing smile that no one but Jaskier would notice.

“Why?”

“Because I happen to have fallen in love at first sight,” Jaskier said triumphantly.

“Like I said, you are an idiot for it.”

“Oh?” Jaskier asked, a grin spreading over his face, making him look like a cat that knew it would get away with stealing the cream. “Even if I told you that it is you I fell in love with not even a day after I met you in Posada?”

Geralt huffed, ignoring how his heart skipped a beat. “If that were true, you would be even more of a fool.”

Jaskier certainly hadn’t fallen in love with Geralt. At most, he had been a duckling following the first thing it saw. Between the punch and almost getting him killed, Geralt had done nothing that would make anyone -least of all Jaskier- fall in love with him.

For some unexplainable reason, the thought tasted bitter.

He turned away from Jaskier, his big blue eyes and that cheeky smile suddenly too much for him.

“Oh,” Jaskier said quietly. There was an awkward pause, in which Geralt could feel Jaskier’s eyes on him. “You don’t need to be grumpy about it. You know I was only joking, don’t you?”

Geralt grunted. Of course he knew it was a joke. With an unsettling feeling spreading thought his chest, he realised that maybe that was exactly the problem. It didn’t matter. Geralt wouldn’t let it bother him.

It was bothering him. Not that first time; he could have just ignored that and gone on with his life. But it kept happening. The words were always accompanied by a nudge in the ribs, laughter or that exaggerated cheeriness in Jaskier’s voice.

When they parted ways for the winter, Jaskier said in his overdramatic fashion “The only thing keeping me warm in the winter will be my love for you.”

His tongue peeked out between his lips and his grin was as mischievous as could be. Geralt had left quicker than intended, only so he could get away from the joke that hurt more than it should.

When Geralt decided to safe a family from a cockatrice, even though they couldn’t pay, Jaskier looked at him with a smile that was far too wide to be genuine.

“See, that’s why I love you!”

When Geralt listened to Jaskier rant about Valdo Marx for the tenth time in a week it happened again.

“Listen, Jaskier, I don’t know about music, but the one time I heard him play, I pretended that there was a monster nearby that I needed to hunt just so I would get out of listening to him. So stop worrying. You are much better than him.”

Jaskier stared at him with a slightly open mouth for a moment, before that grin split his face. Dread settled in Geralt’s stomach. He knew that expression. He tried to brace himself, but Jaskier’s words, spoken with too much enthusiasm and accompanied with a wink that marked them as a joke, still hurt Geralt like the blow of a sword.

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

Too many times. And not once actually meaning it.

“Say, Geralt, why are you not in a relationship?”

Geralt paused sharpening his sword and looked up to where Jaskier was leaning against a tree. “That’s a stupid question.”

“That may be, but it is a sincere question.”

For once, Jaskier actually sounded serious. Still, Geralt didn’t know what he should say. The truth? That there was no one who would be foolish enough to want to be with a witcher? Surely, Jaskier knew that himself. It’s not that Geralt minded not having anyone who loved him in that way. It was better like this.

That is… he hadn’t minded. It was easy not thinking about how no one wanted him, when he wasn’t interested in anyone either. It was a different story, when there was someone who Geralt wished would like him back. It was a different story, when the one holding Geralt’s heart was staring at him, head cocked to the side and asking him about his love life. It was different, when the one person Geralt loved thought it was funny to declare their undying love for him over and over and never truly mean it.

He couldn’t say any of that. So instead he did what he always did. He grunted and left Jaskier to interpret it however he wanted.

“You haven’t been seeing anyone either for a while,” Geralt added as an afterthought.

“And what a shame that is.” Jaskier came closer, crouching down next to Geralt, making it impossible for Geralt to evade his eyes and his foreboding grin. “You know what? Let’s make a deal. If we both are still single a year from now on, we will get married. Love at first sight ending in marriage is always wonderful material for a song.”

Geralt couldn’t repress the scowl. “You would do that for a song?” He willed his voice to be even, but he knew there was a bitterness to the words that Jaskier couldn’t miss. He ignored Jaskier’s stammered excuses. “It’s a stupid deal. I doubt you won’t have found a new paramour in a day or two anyway.”

“No need to get snappish,” Jaskier said with a smile, but his voice sounded tight as he stood back up. “I was just joking.”

Jaskier didn’t laugh at his own joke. Instead he looked almost crestfallen. No wonder. Geralt knew all too well the feeling of making an unappreciated joke. Inwardly he sighed. Still he cracked a smile, hoping it would at least make Jaskier think he had been funny.

“I honestly don’t know how you managed to put up with Geralt for so long. I only spend the winter with him and that’s almost enough to drive me crazy,” Lambert said and downed the rest of his drink.

Jaskier only laughed.

Geralt’s nervousness when he had seen Lambert enter the tavern had quickly changed into annoyance. It seemed all of his worries that he and Jaskier wouldn’t get along and that Jaskier might even get offended by Lambert being, well, Lambert, were entirely unfounded.

They were already on their third round and getting along well. Too well, maybe.

“You know, songbird, I like you.” Lambert’s words made Gerlt clench his jaw. “If you ever grow tired of Geralt” - Geralt didn’t need the reminder. As if he didn’t think of that possibility every day- “you can always travel with me instead.”

Geralt’s grip around his tankard tightened, his knuckles going white. His throat became tight as he awaited – dreaded – Jaskier’s answer.

Jaskier reached out and patted Lambert’s hand.

“Thank you for the offer,” he said with a chirpy laugh. “but you see, I can’t just leave Geralt. He is the love of my life after all.”

Geralt closed the eyes when Lambert snorted. For a moment he wondered whether it might have been less painful if Jaskier had instead agreed to go with Lambert.

“What do you mean you have something for me?” Jaskier asked, brows furrowed, but a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “I thought we were low on coin?”

They were. But when they had gone to the market earlier that day and Jaskier had stood in front of the stall selling inks in pretty bottles it had sent a pang through Geralt’s chest, when Jaskier had sighed and his longing look had turned into disappointment.

“I am going on a hunt tomorrow morning. It’ll bring in enough coin to make up for this.” He held the beautifully crafted inkwell out for Jaskier to take.

Jaskier’s eyes lit up and he held it like it was the most precious thing he owned.

“Blue ink? It must have been expensive.”

It had been. But it matched Jaskier’s eyes. It had been a stupid impulse, but Geralt hadn’t been thinking clearly, the memory of Jaskier’s earlier disappointment still nagging at his mind.

Geralt grunted. “Use it to write some more songs that get us coin and it will have been worth it.”

It already was, if only for the brilliant smile Jaskier sent his way.

“Thank you so much, Geralt. Really.” He took one of Geralt’s hands in his and squeezed it gently. Warmth spread through Geralt from where they touched. “I will start performing right away. I just need a drink first.” Jaskier paused, a soft look stealing its way into his eyes. “Really, Geralt, you can’t just do such nice things for me and expect my heart to be able to handle it.”

Geralt’s throat tightened. He wanted to say something, but this was too close already. Anything Geralt would say now could easily make Jaskier turn this into a joke again and Geralt desperately wanted to keep this moment as it was, with Jaskier being happy and not making fun of what he could never truly feel for Geralt.

So instead of saying anything that could cut the threat that kept this conversation genuine, he nodded in the direction of their room.

“You go drink and sing. I’ll get some rest.” Did he imagine the look of disappointment flashing over Jaskier’s face? “I’ll need to get up early tomorrow if I want to be done with the contract by nightfall.”

After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, plagued by the memory of Jaskier’s hand in his, he had finally drifted off to sleep. He hadn’t even woken up when Jaskier had eventually gone to bed. Just as Jaskier didn’t wake up when Geralt left the room now.

Finding the monster wasn’t hard, but the cold winds marking the coming end of autumn were making it hard to keep his hands steady on Roach’s reins. Geralt cursed under his breath. Fighting with cold hands was always a bother and he had hoped it would be a few more weeks before the cold would settle over the land. A few more weeks he would be able to spend at Jaskier’s side.

The wind picked up and Geralt let go of the reins, trusting Roach to find her way without his guidance and buried his hands deep in the pockets of his cloak in hopes of giving them some warmth at least. What he found instead was paper.

He frowned, producing the thing that someone must have stuck into his pockets without him noticing. It was a letter, slightly crumpled up and smelling distinctly of Jaskier and something bitter.

Geralt halted Roach and stared at the paper for a long moment, before finally unfolding it.

The letter was unmistakably written by Jaskier – in blue ink – though the writing looked nothing like the elegant notes he usually wrote. No, it looked sloppy. Rushed? Maybe even nervous?

If so, then surely Jaskier couldn’t have been as nervous as Geralt was now, reading the letter.

My dearest, There is something I need to tell you before we have to separate for the winter again. Something I have told you many times already, but you never believed me. I hope you believe me now, when I don’t have anything but my words to mess this up. I love you, Geralt. I have loved you for years and I will continue to do so. I know that you don’t feel the same way and if this makes you uncomfortable, we can pretend I never wrote this. To be honest, I am not even sure why I am writing this. But I know what I feel for you. With all my love, Jaskier

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat. He read over the lines again and again, unable to comprehend. This couldn’t be a joke. Jaskier wouldn’t be so cruel as to immortalize such a lie in a letter. He asked Geralt to believe him. And he did. For the first time, Geralt believed him. Fuck, how often had Geralt misinterpreted what Jaskier had said? How often had he dismissed Jaskier’s confession, thinking it had been a joke?

He folded the letter, trying to get rid of all the creases and put it back in his pockets.

The hunt couldn’t be over fast enough. The ride back must be exhausting for Roach, but Geralt burned with the need to see Jaskier, to talk to him, to please hear him say that he had meant what he had written in the letter.

As soon as he opened the door to their room, all words he could have said, left him. There was Jaskier, sitting on the bed, plucking the strings of his lute, crafting some new melody. He was beautiful. How was Geralt supposed to talk to him about the letter? How was he supposed to find the words when nothing could be enough to describe how much it meant to him just seeing Jaskier lift his head and light up at the sight of Geralt.

“Geralt, you’re back!” He put his lute to the side and looked Geralt over, like he always did when he had been fighting. He looked so…normal. Nothing in his behaviour implied that he was in any way nervous about the letter he had slipped Geralt when he must have been asleep.

Geralt swallowed. If this makes you uncomfortable, we can pretend I never wrote this.

Of course. Jaskier had taken the first step. More than a step really. Jaskier had run a mile in writing the letter. It was on Geralt now to meet him halfway. If only he knew how to broach the subject.

Jaskier filled the silence, before Geralt got a chance to find the right words.

“How did it go? Did anything interesting happen on the hunt?”

This was it. The opening he had been waiting for and the obvious hint that Jaskier wanted to talk about what he had written.

“Yes,” Geralt said. “Something quite interesting.”

He reached inside his pockets. He held the letter out to Jaskier with a small smile on his face.

Jaskier’s curiosity slowly transformed into confusion and then into recognition and horror.

“Oh shit.” It was barely more than a whisper. His eyes snapped up to Geralt’s, wide open and panicking. “You didn’t actually read that, did you? I… shit, I didn’t think I was actually gone enough to write that.” Jaskier’s hands started to fidget and his heartbeat became frantic. “Fuck. I was really, really drunk when I wrote that. Can you please forget about it?”

Geralt’s blood ran cold. He didn’t even notice his hand starting to tremble, until he felt the paper rip in his tight grip.

The sloppy handwriting. The bitter smell – alcohol. The way the paper had been crumpled-up in his pockets. The distinct lack of poetry. Jaskier would never write a letter – a love letter no less – this carelessly when he was sober.

Bitterness rose in Geralt’s throat.

“So you didn’t mean it?” His voice was tight and he was barely able to get the words past the lump in his throat.

Jaskier gave him a chipped smile. Every moment now he would open his mouth and double down on that fucking joke that ripped Geralt’s heart into pieces. He wouldn’t be able to handle hearing it again.

“Please, Jaskier, don’t. I can’t keep doing this. It was funny the first time around, but since then it had become worse with every time you say it.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s fragile smile crumbled, leaving him looking broken and hurt. “I am sorry. I didn’t know it made you that uncomfortable.” He let out a hollow laugh. “I figured that if you thought it was just a joke, it would be alright for me to say it. I am sorry. I won’t say it again.”

This was good. Geralt would finally be free of having to hear Jaskier make fun of Geralt’s feelings. Except…something didn’t add up.

“What do you mean, if I thought it was a joke?”

Jaskier tensed. His tongue licked nervously over his lips and his eyes flitted about the room, trying desperately to evade Geralt.

“I just… I thought I was good at hiding how I felt. I thought I would be fine pretending. But then you just have to be so you and do these things that just make it impossible not to tell you. Saying it and having you think I didn’t mean it was better than not saying it at all.” He hesitated, his eyes finally settling back on Geralt, who could do nothing but stare at him. “Can I… Can I say it just one more time? Just this once with both of us knowing that I mean it? And then I promise you I will never say it again.”

Geralt’s mouth went dry. There were to many thoughts racing in his head, trying to understand, trying to find a way in which he could have possibly misread what Jaskier had just been saying. He couldn’t risk getting his heart even more broken over one more stupid misunderstanding. And yet….

“What if I don’t want you to?” He asked carefully, not daring to hope.

“Oh.” Jaskier’s face fell. “Yeah, no, of course. I won’t say it. Sorry, forget I ever asked.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” Geralt took a shuddering breath. “What if I don’t want you to stop saying it? What if… what if I would say it back?”

Jaskier’s hands twitched and for a heartbeat he didn’t say anything, before he finally whispered “Would you?”

“Yes.”

A smile broke through the uncertainty and a laugh bubbled up in Jaskier. A genuine, nervous laugh that was nothing like the one he usually used when saying the words.

“I love you, Geralt.”

It was no joke. There was no exaggerated wink, no nudge in the ribs, no reassurance that he didn’t mean it. Just hope and a smile that widened when Geralt finally said it back.

“I love you too.”

#geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #Jaskier #oblivious geralt #mutual pining #my writing #idiots in love

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marshmallow-phd · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Moon

Genre: Scarlet Heart Ryeo!AU, Time Travel!AU, Alternate History, Royalty!AU

Pairing: OC x EXO OT9

Summary: This isn’t Gwen’s time. She was from the modern era, with technology and electricity. But during a solar eclipse, she’s transported back into a previous life in a time and place she does not know. Now, as the foreign daughter of a merchant living in a prince’s household, she must tread carefully, watch her back, and guard her heart. But with the princes locked in a battle over the throne, the chances of her making it out alive might disappear.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3

********

The bright sun felt warm against Gwen’s skin. Chae Ryung half-heartedly chastised her about burning her face, but Gwen hardly gave a listen. It felt like it had been years since she’d simply stopped and took in the light. All she ever did was go to work, do her schoolwork, and watch dramas. She never really took much time for simply… being. After a minute or so, Chase Ryung convinced her to keep walking through the courtyard, but she still went slow, taking in everything.

The other servants would stop in the middle of their work and glance at Gwen in a fashion they might have thought was sneaky, but was, in fact, fairly obvious. Some gave looks of concern, others, it felt like, of awe. Gwen ran her fingers through her hair, the red catching in the sunlight. She stuck out more here than she ever did back home and it made her stomach queasy.

“So, Chae Ryung,” Gwen finally said, “what is it that I usually do during the day?”

“All day?” she echoed. She pursed her lips side to side as she thought. “Mostly you keep Lady Hae company. She’s a bit lonely as Prince Suho’s wife. You’re the closest to her station here.”

Suho. An interesting name for a prince. I remembered Papa inquiring after the pale but beautiful woman in ornate clothing. “And she’s sick?”

Chae Ryung nodded sorrowfully. After looking over her shoulder, she lowered her voice as she leaned in. “Some are worried that she doesn’t have much longer and the prince still doesn’t have an heir.”

“Is it that bad?”

Chae Ryung nodded again. Gwen’s heart went out to the beautifully tragic woman. In the single moment she’d met the Lady of the household, Gwen could tell that she had a kind heart. The look of worry and concern was etched in her mind, not a single twitch giving away possible deception. Spending her days with Lady Hae didn’t seem like too terribly a time. Perhaps she could be another person to lean on, to help Gwen when she stumbled. Because she would certainly be stumbling every other step in this place.

Gwen and Chae Ryung wandered around the grounds for hours, the latter filling Gwen in on what she couldn’t put together for herself.

Apparently, this Gwen had had a tendency to be a bit rambunctious, taking liking to archery just as much as needlework. Often, she would be caught joining in the servant boys in whatever rough game they were playing that day. Not exactly a good look for the daughter of a wealthy merchant. It had to be a comical sight, the horrified looks this girl must have produced from the other women around the household as a child. But over the last few years, she’d calmed to be a bit more demure. Chae Ryung went into explaining the wide gray area Gwen was given as an outsider. Though this girl knew the rules of society, she was able to bend them ever so slightly.

Excellent.

Coming up on the path was a pond, round and expanding, the edges lined with tall grass and fresh flowers that gave off calming scents. A family of little ducks floated on top of the clear water. Fish in bright colors of oranges and yellows swam freely, their tails creating the slightest ripples on the surface. As they walked around the water, Chae Ryung described a beautiful gazebo that this Gwen apparently loved to hide away in when she wanted to be alone. Disappointingly, though, the gazebo was already occupied by the Prince and Lady Hae.

Looking like a happy but conservative couple, they drank tea together and spoke softly. Prince Suho smiled at his wife as he brought the teacup to his lips, but as his eyes drifted over to the spot where Gwen stood, the smile changed.

It deepened, almost. An uncomfortable feeling settled in Gwen’s stomach. She smiled back, though, and waved, to remain polite. She was probably reading into things or misunderstanding them. Prince Suho held back a laugh before turning back to his wife. She still didn’t fully understand the dynamics of this world and could easily misinterpret his actions. And her head still slightly throbbed, so that could be clouding her thoughts as well.

“It’s inappropriate to stare at a married couple’s private moments,” a high voice snipped.

Confused, Gwen turned to find an elegantly dressed girl close to her age. Or, rather, this body’s age since this Gwen was a few years younger than the body she’d left behind.

This new girl’s face was pretty, but it was destroyed by the snobbish and self-satisfied look she wore. Chae Ryung bowed deeply, but Gwen stayed erect. Bowing was not something that came as second nature to her and she didn’t want to do it for just anyone. Not surprisingly, this defiance deepened the annoyance on the girl’s face even more. Sensing danger, Chae Ryung forced Gwen into a bow.

“Greetings, Your Highness,” Chae Ryung said with a shaky voice. She gave Gwen a pointed glance that was ignored.

“Apparently, not only have you forgotten your memories, but the few manners you ever had as well,” her highness sniffed. “I would be happy to be your teacher. Maybe we can make you a more respectful person this time around.”

“Perhaps we have two different definitions of respect.”

It was subtle, but the girl’s smile strained, stiffening and tightening in the corners. Gwen knew that irritated look all too well from high school. The girls of the popular crowd would often shift into this body language whenever Gwen ignored their insults or countered them with a response they weren’t expecting. It had made her extremely unpopular, but that was never important to her. All she ever cared about was getting out and graduating. It was sad that mean girls had existed back in this time as well.

“How dare you speak to me that way,” the girl hissed. “You think because you’re a freak of nature you can do and say as you please?”

“Just because I look different from you doesn’t mean that I’m a freak of nature!” Gwen shouted. Her nails dug into her palms as she tried to reign in the urge to respond physically. That particular subject had always been a sore spot for her. She didn’t think she was ugly, per se, but she wasn’t a beauty. Society’s standards, as ever changing as they were, always felt too far out of her reach. “Pretty” was not something she ever saw in the mirror. And, unfortunately, this body held the same face.

“What is going on here?”

Gwen stiffened at the Prince’s voice behind her. Slowly, she turned around and bowed deeply. Prince Suho had abandoned his wife at the gazebo to investigate. She hadn’t meant to ruin his date, especially since they probably didn’t get many moments like this. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Your Highness.”

Prince Suho looked past her to the girl and then back at Gwen. “Perhaps, it’s best for you to go back inside, Lady Gwen. I don’t want you to tire yourself out and I fear it might get colder. ”

Nodding, Gwen bowed again and walked away. There was no point in arguing. Besides, she didn’t want to hang around this self-important girl, who she didn’t dare give a passing glance to and give her the satisfaction of besting her. Once out of sight, however, Gwen’s bravado deflated.

“Who was that girl?” She bit her bottom lip in a very unladylike manner as she slouched against the outer wall of a red-painted building.

Chae Ryung tutted nervously. “That was Princess Yeon Hwa. You’re lucky that her brother stepped in.”

That girl was Prince Suho’s sister? Gwen shuddered, feeling sorry for Suho since he had to be related to her. “Mom always said I was too spiteful. But I wasn’t being disrespectful by looking for five seconds. They just looked like a scene out of a movie.”

“A movie?”

Oh, crap. There you go again. “A novel. I meant a novel. They looked like a scene from a book.”

“Oh!” Chae Ryung nodded, though she wore an expression of confusion. “Still it would have been better to apologize and walk away.”

Gwen shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

Looking up at the blue sky, Gwen wanted to pout. It was such a nice day. Even with these layers of clothes, she wasn’t too hot and a nice breeze played with her hair. But Prince Suho had told her to go inside. He must have figured she would cause less trouble there. He also said it might get colder. Gwen hated being cold.

“When I have to stay inside, where do I like to go?” she asked as she looked ot her friend.

Chae Ryung grinned from ear to ear. She seemed excited as she took hold of Gwen’s wrist and pulled her along to a building near the middle of the compound. It wasn’t a large building, with spaces barely able to be called rooms. That hardly deterred the excitement bubbling up in Gwen’s chest.

Inside were wooden shelves, thin and easily seen through. But unlike the thick, hardbound novels Gwen was used to, the books stacked here were thinner, flimsy and held together with twine. Another servant girl shuffled up before they stepped into the room. Chae Ryung was needed elsewhere. She urged Gwen to go on ahead and stay at the library for a few hours.

Within the shelves, she lost herself.

Reading was always a comfort to Gwen, but she tended to lean towards adventurous fiction filled with romance and challenge. She doubted she would find such stories in the Prince’s library. If she could even read these manuscripts.

Gwen blinked, reflecting on her presence here. Somehow, she was able to communicate with the others despite the fact that they weren’t speaking English. The real Gwen’s knowledge - at least, with speaking and reading - somehow had remained behind. As her eyes drifted over the Chinese characters written on the spines, she understood what they said. A small laugh escaped her lips. She’d always wanted to know more than one language. All it took was being transported back in time to a different body.

From what Gwen could make out of the titles of the volumes, they were mostly science based - medical treatments and catalogs of animals and plants - along with a few recorded histories. There were no fictional stories to be found, so Gwen went for the next best thing and grabbed a book that recounted the story of how King Taejo founded Goryeo.

The wording was a bit dry and straight forward, the author giving only the occasional flourish here and there. Still, like any written word, it absorbed her attention. To receive a recount of history from a source so close to the time that it happened was not to be taken lightly. Gwen walked through the aisles as she read, unaware that another visitor had arrived. In the middle of a sentence about a deciding battle, her pacing was stopped by a soft wall. She looked up and sucked in her breath.

Prince Suho.

She bowed, thinking that her back would start aching from all this bending over. “I’m sorry, again, for earlier,” she whispered. It was a sincere apology. Though it wasn’t her fault, she’d egged it on and caused the Prince trouble, which in turn could cause trouble for this Gwen’s father. Both men had been kind to her since she woke up and she didn’t want to repay that kindness by being a burden.

Instead of acknowledging her apology, Prince Suho asked, “Do you really not remember anything?”

Gwen shook her head, unable to meet his eye. She could feel his gaze seering onto her face, however. Warmth tickled at her cheeks and she hoped that it wasn’t a visible heat. The Prince was handsome, with a strong chin and kind eyes. He spoke softly.

“Do you remember why you were at the bathhouse?”

Gwen snapped her head up, confused. Why would he be asking her about a bathhouse? “The bathhouse?” She knew nothing about a bathhouse or what this Gwen would be doing there.

He sighed. “Truly?” Did he not believe her? Did he think she was faking it to avoid getting into trouble?

“I-” she stopped. Would she be punished for something she didn’t even do? She tried to be as sincere and honest as possible. She didn’t know what could be done to her if he didn’t believe her. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Prince Suho didn’t look receptive to her answer, but he backtracked anyway as he looked away. “Perhaps I was merely seeing things,” he murmured to himself. Regaining eye contact, he took a step to shorten the space between them. “When I invited you and your father to stay here, I took it upon myself to look after you, knowing your foreignness would make you a target. I’m afraid I’ve neglected on that duty. It has caused Lady Hae great worry.”

Gwen took a step back, her hands behind her back. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I think I’m causing you more trouble than I’m worth. I promise, I’ll watch my steps from now on. The last thing I want is to be in the way. If you need anything, I’ll do it. I want to be a help, not a burden.” He nodded, the expression on his face softening slightly. Feeling the conversation was over with that last declaration, she bowed and scurried out of the library after replacing the historical text.

With that haven now compromised, Gwen concluded the best place for her to go was back to her room until dinner.

********

After a few days of managing to stay out of trouble, Gwen ran into Lady Hae on one of her leg-stretching walks. She didn’t seem to be upset about the incident at the gazebo, though she was disappointed that Gwen hadn’t come to see her. Gwen stumbled through an apology, not realizing that she would be so missed. In fact, she thought she was doing everyone a favor by staying out of the way.

Accepting the apology, Lady Hae asked if Gwen would like to learn how to make lotus lanterns for the upcoming festival. Gwen raised her eyebrows in surprise. Thinking it would be fun and distracting, she agreed and followed Lady Hae to one of the buildings with open walls that allowed a gentle breeze to keep them cool. The temperature hadn’t dropped like Prince Suho had predicted. When Gwen saw who was already at work in the building, she instantly regretted her decision to join. A groan was barely suppressed as she sat down beside Lady Hae.

“Lady Hae, I see you brought a friend,” Yeon Hwa sneered cheerfully.

It took willpower, but Gwen managed to ignore the princess’s snide remark, instead focusing on Lady Hae’s explanation of how to put the lanterns together. The glue had a potent smell that stung at Gwen’s nose. No wonder they were in a building that allowed the air to drift in and out. It took a few poor looking lanterns for her to get the hang of it, but finally they looked worthy of being hung up for other people to see. Glancing over at Yeon Hwa’s, Gwen huffed internally. Though they were the same design, the princess’ were begrudgingly far superior.

“Lady Gwen,” Yeon Hwa called out. A faux-sweet smile stretched across her lips. “Why don’t you go take the dry lanterns and put them in the Moon building for storage until the festival?”

Gwen returned a smile just as fake. “Of course.”

Chae Ryung, who had joined the group soon after Gwen’s arrival, stepped forward. “I can take them, my lady.”

“Lady Gwen is perfectly capable of carrying them herself,” Yeon Hwa snapped. The evil look gleamed in her eyes, as if she were punishing Gwen with such menial labor.

Little did she know the request didn’t bother Gwen in the slightest. She was giving the perfect excuse to leave her presence. While making the lanterns, Gwen’s mind had wandered towards the village beyond the walls and - with everyone occupied here – sneaking out on her own should be easy enough. She wanted to see more of this world that she now resided in.

Filling up her arms with as much as they could carry, Gwen shuffled up the hill, following the directions Chae Ryung had given to the Moon building.

“Gwen, you’re out of your room.”

Papa walked up, a smile on his face causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle. He seemed out of place in the Goryeo fashion he donned, yet comfortable as the shiny fabric swayed around his legs. He wore the hanbok with dignity and ease. Back home, Gwen prefered less complicated clothing and was still adjusting to the multilayered dresses that needed an extra pair of hands to put on.

“Yes,” Gwen said. “I was helping Lady Hae make lanterns for the festival.” She held them up proudly for him to see.

“Those are very beautiful,” he complimented. Gwen’s smile stretched farther across her lips at the praise. “I’m happy to see that you’re getting back to your old self.”

The joy in his eyes was almost too overwhelming. Gwen thought back to her own father, with whom she was close. They seemed so much alike. Tears threatened to brim her eyes. Within the last few days, she’d grown an affection for this man. He was patient with her and caring. And, as an outsider himself, a small connection that she clung to. “I’m happy that you’re happy, Papa.”

“I have some business to oversee at the house. Please, stay out of trouble.” He gave her a kiss on the head and resumed in the direction he was headed before.

Continuing on her own way, Gwen barely reached the steps of the Moon building before a man in brown clothes ran, bowed, and took the lanterns to store them. He must have been a servant in the Prince’s household. She hadn’t seen him before but she gladly handed the lanterns over. Thankful that her task was now over, she waited and watched as the servant hung the lanterns up on a long string inside the open doors. Now it was time to explore. Taking a different path, she headed for the gate.

This place was certainly different. Monarchies weren't as widespread in her own time, most nations having moved on to people-elected governments instead of blood-appointed kings. Though it was different, Gwen appreciated the underlining respect that drove this culture. The differences in formal and informal speech and the hierarchy of that respect ran deep within the people. The mutual heritage they all shared made her a bit jealous. She was from a place that didn’t have that.

The sound of drums broke through her thoughts. They were deep, rhythmic, calling out to anyone who wanted to listen. Answering the call, Gwen followed them.

In a giant dirt courtyard near the palace stood about six figures, some dressed in red, others in black. They were spaced equally apart in a square structure. Gwen hid among the archways, too fascinated to walk away like she should have. The figures danced in unison and with power – except one of the men in red, who was lacking enthusiasm and proper rhythm. The others noticed and stopped their dance, the drums fading out as well. They all stared at the one who had finished incorrectly as he flopped down to the ground. Gwen covered her mouth to soften the giggled. He was throwing a fit. A grown man by the looks of him, he was acting like a spoiled child. Among the figures was Prince Suho, who seemed exasperated at the situation.

So, those must be the other princes.

This festival must be important, if royalty was performing. Gwen made a mental note to have Chae Ryung explain it in more detail when she went back to the compound.

A few of the princes ganged up on the one on the ground, criticizing him for still getting the moves wrong after such a long practice. Huffing, the one on the ground jumped up. He pointed a long finger and accused another brother of making a mistake as well. Gwen laughed loudly at their altercation, the noise pushing through her fingers. Prince Suho glanced up in her direction. She took off, scared to be caught.

Once among the common people, Gwen’s mind eased. She wandered around the city, trying to ignore the whispers and stares that followed. The market was abundant with people. Men gossiped with their friends while the women picked over the vegetables and meats, inspecting for any impurities. Children played loudly and ran through the streets, uncaring if their feet were covered in mud. Different stalls caught Gwen’s attention, some selling soaps and bath grains, others selling intricate hairpins that sparkled under the sun. She made a mental note to ask Papa to come with her next time to buy a few wares. Maybe Chae Ryung could teach her how to place the pins in her hair.

Leaving behind the market, Gwen came to a small bridge over a shallow river. The water flowed steadily, uninterrupted. She stared down at her blurry reflection, wondering how she could still look so much like herself. There was no railing to obstruct the view, so she bent down for a closer look.

The face looking back was still round and pale, the soft jaw line giving a youthful appeal. Red hair fell natural, gentle waves that never liked to obey. Not even the multiple hairpins keeping it out of her face could tame it completely. Sea green eyes sat in hooded sockets on either side of a thin nose and average lips. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose and apples of her large cheeks from years of sun exposure. Forced to come back to a time that wasn’t hers, the least magic could have done was improve her looks.

The cries of the villagers reached her ears too late. Searching for the source of the hysterics, Gwen stood and turned as the villagers ducked out of sight. A mad man on a black horse galloped through the market. The rider didn’t care about others around him. He didn’t look back behind him or stop to check on those who dived out of his path. A villager with a traveling pack hanging from his shoulders scurried across the bridge to run away from the rider. In his haste, he knocked into Gwen. She lost her balance, flailing her arms worthlessly, and began to fall into the river that had served as my mirror just moments ago. She closed her eyes and braced for impact with the surly cold water. But it didn’t come.

A steadfast grip snatched her by her waist. When she opened her eyes to see who had saved her from the water, she was face to face with the rider.

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Text

Love’s Worth Running To. Chapter 5: Hero Work

Pairing: Barry Allen x Stephanie Williams (OFC)

Fandom: Justice League / DCEU

⬅ PREVIOUS CHAPTER • CHAPTER INDEX • NEXT CHAPTER ➡

AO3

A/N: Another chapter! I think this one as very interesting stuff, and it’s finally starting to move on to my favorite part of the story, I can’t wait to post the few next chapters!

Also, and as always, remember to give this some love! Please reblog and leave feedback if you’re liking it, it would help me out a lot and it’d mean the world to me!! 🙏 Thank you so much to everyone that’s supporting this series 🥰💜

With the excuse that she needs to face it sooner or later, Stephanie starts trying out her powers. She promises herself that it means nothing, only a way to ensure they won’t become something dangerous because she can’t control them. It doesn’t mean she will recklessly go out trying to be Wonder Woman. But the improvised hero outfit still lays on the ground. She hasn’t put it away. Keeps glancing at it.

Meanwhile, as her eyes are fixed on the costume, a light crackle of electricity hovers over her palm. Stephanie sighs and focuses her attention on it, watching how the small force field slowly grows. The semi-transparent sphere, at first as small as marble, has reached the size of a football ball now.

Stephanie tells herself that big progress has been made, as at least she is now in control of it even if the force field isn’t big enough to really protect anyone. Its surface is also irregular and unstable. She grits her teeth, frowning in confusion, but the very best she can do is maintain the current state of the force field.

“Ah!” Stephanie suddenly yelps when her phone buzzes. The force field in her hand crackles, creating a mild disturbance in the air, before completely fading.

Promising to keep working on her newfound abilities after checking her phone, she picks the device up and looks at the screen. Her heart halts in anticipation as she reads the text. It’s from Ben.

While it isn’t the person she was expecting, it still warms her heart that Ben is reaching out and checking on her. For that reason, she proceeds to read the message and a small smile finds its way to her lips when she does.

Good morning, Stephanie! How are you feeling? I hope you’re well and recovered. There is no rush to return to work, but I must insist that you rest and properly look after yourself. I’m your boss, so you have to do as I say.

Best regards, Ben.

Stephanie chuckles, endeared by his thoughtful message and amused by the fact that he signed it like he would a written letter... despite the fact that the phone already showcases the sender. Grinning, she starts typing to reply to him.

You may be the man in charge for the project, but shall I remind you that you’re not my boss?

Best regards, Stephanie.

However, and despite the lighthearted interaction, a void settles in her chest.

For a moment, Stephanie had hoped it was Barry contacting her, only to remember that she had been ignoring his many calls and messages. He has probably given up on talking to her, figuring she will do so when she feels comfortable with it. And she misses him. For that reason, she dials his number while Ben types back.

Barry takes a few rings to answer, but when he does his warm and familiar voice is filled with excitement. It makes Stephanie smile as soon as she hears it.

“Steph?!” He answers. “Oh my gosh, hi! How are you feeling?”

“Hi, Barry” The girl can’t stop smiling now, while at the same time wondering how she had survived so many days without him. “I’m feeling better, thank you”

“That’s great, I’m so glad to hear it!” He sighed from the other end, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Um… did you need anything? Or did you just call to chat?”

“Well…” Stephanie awkwardly chuckles, feeling embarrassed for isolating herself. But now that she has her powers mostly under control after that long week, she feels like she can talk to him again. “Actually, I wanted to apologize… I know I’ve been very distant, but…”

“Hey, no” He gently interrupts her. “Steph, you don’t have to apologize, don’t say a word. I understand that you needed some time, anyone would after what you went through!”

Stephanie pauses for a moment while the nerves suddenly stir in her stomach. In the end, noticing his silence as well, she pipes up once more.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, Barry”

“I’m always gonna worry about you”

She smiles to herself, knowing that he means that in the best way possible. The nerves disappear, replaced with a wave of warmth that fills her. Suddenly, all those negative emotions she has been experiencing for days are gone. All thanks to his magic.

“Listen, I’m in a hurry. I’m so sorry, I really can’t talk more” Barry mumbles. “But, uh... how ‘bout we meet this evening? I’ll take it easy on you, I promise, I just want to hang out with you for a bit”

“Sure” Stephanie chuckles. “I’d love that”

“Cool!” She hears him happily chuckle as well. “Pick you up at 7?”

“Yeah, see you later” And Stephanie hangs up, unable to erase the smile from her face.

When Barry arrives to the place of reunion, he heaves a big sigh. The sky suddenly looks bluer, the birds are singing louder and the sun shines brighter. Everything is okay.

“There you are” Clark pats his shoulder, warning him of the team’s presence. They had been waiting for him. “How can a speedster like you be late?”

“Right, sorry about that” Barry grins instead of taking his words as a scolding.

“You look happy…” Diana tells Barry, kindly nudging him a little.

“Yeah, well” The boy suddenly feels slightly flustered by everyone’s gazes on him. “I talked to Steph”

“Your friend?” Bruce pipes up, the hint of a smile peeking in the corner of his lips. “We told you she just needed some time”

“She doing okay?” Arthur asked, frowning slightly in concern.

“Yeah, she’s fine… she’s fine” Barry sighs like that again, feeling lighter. “Phew, it was such a relief”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Barry” Victor gravely tells him. “But we have work to do”

“You’re right, I know” The boy nods to himself. “I’m ready, let’s go”

The silence settles for a moment. Overlooking the city from their high spot at the top of the skyscraper, the six pensively observe the atmosphere beneath their feet. There is the usual busy sound of traffic, of the crowd’s murmuring and the occasional ambulance or police cars sirens in the distance. Other than that, there are no signs of an imminent threat.

“What are we doing here again?” Arthur pipes up. “Everything seems calm”

“Too calm” Bruce grimly replies, glancing at the rest. “I know something’s wrong”

“I can feel it too” Victor adds. “The electric devices feel erratic, like a virus is slowly poisoning the city”

“What we can do about it?” Diana stares at the cyborg, whose eyes are fixed on the city underneath.

“Can you do something to stop that virus?” Barry suggests to him. “Get into their systems or something?”

“I can’t” Victor gravely says, locking eyes with the speedster. “That’s how I know something’s wrong”

“I can feel it too” Clark admits. There are no traces of his usual smile. “Maybe it’s just an intuition, but-”

Before he can even finish his sentence, a loud ruckus startles them all. Something has changed right under their field of vision. An automated train, moving on its own and filled with thousands of innocent passengers, is violently wavering and making the people inside it scream and panic. It moves at a vertiginous speed. More strange noises ensure that the train isn’t the only electronic device malfunctioning there.

“You wouldn’t be doing that, by any chance?” Barry asks Victor, who slowly shakes his head.

As on cue, everyone moves at his denial. The six seem synchronized as they throw themselves down the rooftop. Diana uses her lasso to soar through the air, Bruce glides with his cape and Barry speeds leaving behind a faint blue tail. Clark flies, followed by Victor with his propellers, and Arthur throws his trident and rides it like a surf board.

In the blink of an eye, the six have landed on top of the train. More panicked screams fill the interior with the loud thud of their landing. They struggle to maintain balance in the speeding train. Moving quickly, Clark tears the metallic top of the train open and so everyone drops to the inside.

“Please stay calm” He kindly says to the terrorized passengers.

“We’re here to help” Bruce assures them with his deep voice.

“We’re saved!” A blond woman exclaims. “It’s Superman!”

“And Wonder Woman!”

“And The Batman!”

Although a warm welcome, the Justice League focuses on the mission ahead: saving those people. They exchange quick glances between them and get to work. There is no time to lose.

“Barry” Bruce lowly tells him. “Get rid of all the electronic devices as soon as possible”

“Before they overheat and explode” Victor urges him, his red eye seeming to recognize the extent of the danger they present. “They’re malfunctioning just like the train”

“Copy that!” And with that, the speedster is gone in the blink of an eye. With shocked gasps, the people find that their phones, tablets and any other electronic devices are taken from them. Some explode as soon as they’re thrown out the window, causing an even further outrage.

“I’ll try to stop the train” Victor closes his eyes, focusing his mind on the electric system.

“I’ll do that too” Clark nods, helping the cyborg by flying to the front of the vehicle. As soon as he disappears, the train produces a strident creaking as it drags along the rails. Carefully. Very slowly, it starts losing speed. He can’t risk harming the people inside with a violent halt.

“We’ll get the people safely off” Diana taps Bruce, who doesn’t lose one second to go with her.

“And I’ll help you out” Arthur throws his trident to the doors, breaking through them to allow them an exit.

Soon after, Barry has returned and instantly goes with Diana, Bruce and Arthur to help them move the passengers out of the speeding train. Clark seems to continue his part of the rescue, because it loses speed by the second. Slow and safely.

While Arthur breaks open all the doors he can to create more exits, the rest gets ahold of as many people as possible. The train hasn’t quite stopped yet. Bruce carries three grown men, using his grappling hook to swing to safety. Diana has picked up a group of four children while Barry puts their parents to safety. Perhaps they can’t quite understand and solve what is happening in the city yet, but in the meantime they can always protect the people.

Seven o’clock can’t come soon enough. Time passes slowly, and Stephanie’s eyes keep landing on the discarded outfit on the ground. She bites her lip. Knowing she is meeting Barry later seems to fill her with courage. Hope. Maybe she can be like their heroes, like Wonder Woman and Superman. At the very least, she can try.

“Maybe I’ll just try it on…” She mumbles, trying to get rid of her impatient energy, and as though they outfit would have changed sizes during those few days she hasn’t touched it.

Telling herself that it’s only a way to stay distracted and busy while she waits for Barry to arrive, although that isn’t for two more hours, Stephanie gets changed. The tight leggings slip on easily, like a second skin, like they’re the right thing to wear. After she puts on the tank top as well, she stands before the mirror once more. The same sense of excitement and wonder settle in her stomach, taking the form of butterflies that take flight inside it.

The look is almost complete. Just when she is applying the eye shadow like the other day, a sound interrupts her. Several police cars pass by her apartment at top speed, illuminating the streets with their blue light. A test. A call to adventure. Will she answer?

“I can do it” She whispers to herself. “I want to help, I can do it”

Anxious as the police cars wail in the distance, Stephanie nods in resolution. After such a long time of inactivity, her muscles complain at the sudden energy bursts. Ignoring the light aching of her body, Stephanie runs. She leaves her apartment, leaves behind her building and runs in the direction the police cars took. After days if inactivity, she feels alive again. Her lungs urgently fill with air, her heart begins beating so fast that it throbs in her ears.

Stephanie doesn’t stop running, chasing the call to heroism and smiling widely.

She gasps for air as she watches the scene before her in confusion. The streets are total chaos. Even the few policemen that have stayed seem to have lost their minds. All the people, from ordinary bystanders, to service workers that have left their establishments, are running aimlessly and screaming in a panic.

“HEEEELP!!! He will kill us all!!” A shrieking voice gathers her attention upwards. A man is teetering at the very edge of a ledge, at the top of a building. He seems about to jump. Stephanie can’t get there in time to save him. Where is the Justice League when you need it?!

Trying to make herself audible among the shouting of the panicked people around her, she focuses on the man whose life is in immediate danger.

“Stay where you are!” She shouts at him, but he only dedicates her an absent glance.

Stephanie frantically looks around, searching for something that can help her. Nothing of use is in sight. What can she do? An idea suddenly pops up in her brain. Wiggling her fingers, she tries to create a force field around herself. If it’s stable enough, maybe it can lift her off the ground and transport her to him.

But it’s all for naught. It’s too late. Her heart skips a beat.

The man has walked off the ledge.

“NO!” Stephanie screams, so violently that she hurts her throat.

On an instinct, she reaches out in his direction despite the big distance that separates them. Her head fills with uneasy thoughts, all of which are focused on helping him. Saving him! Her first attempt can’t end like that, she needs to do something!

Just as the man is about to step into the air and commence a free fall of several stories high, a bubble creates around him. The man gasps, suspended in the air by a wavering force field.

Realizing it is her doing, Stephanie clenches her jaw and focuses all her might on it. Although it quakes with her effort, the bubble carefully glides downwards until it touches the pavement. As soon as it does, the man looks around in a daze and begins to walk away.

Stephanie finds that such small deed was too great for her. All her energies abandon her and she suddenly falls to the ground. She sits there helplessly. Her heart has recovered that unforgiving pace and she breathes heavily again, even worse than after her dash.

In a daze, feeling how her brain slowly fills with fog, Stephanie watches the scene. Two men are fighting close to her, shouting as they’re convinced the other is a threat. A woman and her baby run aimlessly, wailing as each make more noise than the previous. All around her reigns absolute chaos. Panic. Terror. The reason? She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand.

A man runs for his life, anxiously looking over his shoulder as though something or someone is chasing him. Stephanie can’t see anything behind the man. Just as he passes her by, she weakly holds on to the leg of his pants.

“Sir, sir!!” She calls out, trying to get through to him. Fighting his panic, he nervously turns to her. “What is happening?!”

“T-The scarecrow!” The man gulps. “We’re all going to die!”

And with that her breaks free from her grasp with one simple jerking motion and continues on his escape from an invisible foe.

Stephanie frowns under her eye mask. There are no signs of any scarecrow, and even if it was… what would a scarecrow be doing in a city? Why would an inanimate object be a threat? These people seem to be frightened of an imaginary foe. The only thing different aside from the panicked people is a strange ambiance. Although slightly similar to the way her force fields change the air, this once it feels heavy. There is a mild odor of something burning, like popcorn that has been on the microwave for too long.

But… there is no fire. Stephanie suddenly gets an urge to leave. She makes to stand up, but she remains too weak to move. Anguish overcomes her. Something is happening in that place, something that she cannot comprehend but that is starting to take over her too.

She doesn’t know what, but something is wrong. Something is about to happen. Something bad. Something terrible. She can’t stop thinking about it. A feeling of dread overpowers any other rational thoughts. Now Stephanie understands how all those people feel. Panicked She does too.

Her eyes frantically travel all around her, expecting hidden enemies in every corner. Her powers are useless, even if she could use them. She can’t protect herself, or anyone else.

Static-like void fills her brain, causing her to push her hands against her ears when it feels like her head is about to explode. Her temples throb. Her heart thumps. Her breathing quickens.

Just as she feels herself about to completely lose control, a figure appears in front of her as though it has fallen from the heavens. Stephanie yelps and whimpers, shielding her face with her hands and leaning backwards to get away.

“Hey” A deep dark voice approaches her. “You okay?”

Stephanie dares to peek through her fingers, only becoming more frightened when she actually sees the person… the… creature? It looks like a man, but her panicked mind can only see an enormous bat standing on two legs with its wings wide open.

“Ah!” She screams, so the figure folds the wings and cautiously approaches her. She still doesn’t trust him. “Please don’t hurt me!”

He can hurt her. He will. Anyone can. Anyone will.

“I’m not going to hurt you” He slowly crouches down to be at eye level with her. She can see his worried brown eyes through the mask that covers his features. “Look at me”

“You’re… you’re…” The world seems to spin around her, and Stephanie is out of breath. “You’re The Batman”

“That’s right, I’m here to help” He reminds her, offering her his hand. “What’s going on?”

Stephanie gulps as he pulls her to her feet. It comes to her attention that he looks her up and down, reminding her of the outfit she’s wearing. A hero… she failed. The reason why she went there on the first place was because she wanted to help those people, but… reality becomes a little more stable as she realizes… not even the police stuck around.

“Can you hear me?” The Batman tries again. “What is happening?”

“I don’t know… I don’t know” All her thoughts are scrambled, too fast to stop as they slip through her lips. “Something… is wrong… I can’t explain it...”

A sudden urge to cry causes her to stare at him, begging for help. Maybe he knows what strange occurrence takes place in that street, or how to stop it, or how to end it. He doesn’t seem to, but his eyes are filled with compassion.

“I assume you wanted to help, but you can go” He tells her, supporting her as she feels herself swaying. “Don’t worry, everything will be alright”

Stephanie slowly nods, taking a deep breath and making an effort to fight through that strange trance of terror. No one has attacked her yet, despite her irrational conviction that they would.

“Go, get to safety” The Batman insists, gently letting go of her. “I’ll take care of this”

She opens her mouth. To warn him. He doesn’t know. Since he has just arrived, he has no idea what he will soon experience. But Stephanie can’t speak up. She barely has the strength to stand.

Stumbling and in a daze, she takes a step. She needs to get away from there, breathe a different air. Clean air, not contaminated with whatever is hurting her so. For that reason, she takes another step. And then another. Little by little, she gets away from there. The safety of her home has never felt so distant.

When she wakes up, Stephanie can barely remember how she clumsily plopped on the bed and fell asleep. She had nightmares that are impossible to remember. The fact that she is still wearing her hero outfit is proof that it really happened. She still feels feverish and exhausted from her attempt. Something out of the ordinary was happening there. She can only hope The Batman helped those people, and that he himself was safe after all of that.

Remembering she is supposed to meet Barry when he texts her a quick ‘omw’ that lets her know he will arrive soon, Stephanie gets up. She gets changed and stumbles through her own house as though the ground is shaking under her feet.

Her mind seems to clear up as the minutes pass. When she is done getting ready, she goes to the door where she is supposed to meet Barry. He isn’t there yet. At least, her thoughts feel more coherent and ordered now.

Even after that strange effect has passed, adark feeling stays with Stephanie, like a black cloud that stays with her. At first she assumed it was the rare burst of adrenaline traveling through her veins. Now she’s not so sure. Her heart hasn’t stopped beating erratically ever since then, and although there is no more danger she feels on edge. Frightened. She wonders if she really wasn’t as brave as she though she was, or that she abused her still recovering body too much, or if the experience was too harrowing to easily leave behind. Whatever the case, a sudden presence forces her away from those thoughts.

“Hi!” Barry jumps into place in front of her, bearing a wide grin that seems to brighten up the subtle darkness that has clouded her heart. “I’m here”

“You’re late again” The girl only says, even if she’s already smiling. Barry’s feeling has a healing effect that cures her lingering restlessness.

“I know, I’m so sorry” He dramatically sighs, although he does look a little tired. “Busy day”

“What did you do today?” Stephanie asks, trying to start a conversation while at the same time distract herself from her unease.

“Uh….. you know...” Barry shrugs. “Run around, do some errands, save the world…”

Stephanie laughs out loud at his joke, and he grins widely in return. However, the gesture vanishes from his face immediately after. He is staring at her with his brow knitted in concern.

“Steph, you look pale…” He whispers, rubbing her arm. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah” She chuckles, internally panicking at the mere thought of him finding out about her powers and her little adventure. “I just… went for a walk to kill time… Guess I’m a little tired”

Barry pauses. She can almost see the wheels turning in his head. He is about to tell her that she should rest and take it easy, but he doesn’t. Instead, he dedicates her his best encouraging smile.

“I’m gonna spoil you today” His hand lingers on her arm. “You’re still recovering and you deserve to be spoiled”

“So it was a trap” Stephanie smirks, playfully rolling her eyes at him. “I should have known”

“There’s no escaping now” Barry offers her his arm, which she links with his. He then playfully arches his eyebrows. “Shall we?”

The pair smile at each other as they begin to walk. Barry immediately goes on about what they can do. They can get some snacks and take a little walk. Since she’s been locked inside for so long he wants her to get some air, but he’s stern on letting her rest, so maybe they should sit at a terrace. She doesn’t care what the plan is, she’s just happy to be with him. His presence is reassuring, silently reminding Stephanie that there is nothing to fear.

It has returned. That feeling of dread, of imminent danger. It isn’t nearly as strong as before, it merely feels like a shadow of its former self. Nonetheless, it is barely enough to make even breathing exhausting. Stephanie can’t focus.

Night is slowly falling as the sky turns a slightly darker shade of blue. It has orange and purple tinges as the last traces of the sunset erase from the horizon. The early night breeze envelops them, gentle like a caress.

Barry has been talking almost all evening, but Stephanie is no longer answering him. She is absently playing with the paper that the hot dogs they ate came in.

“What do you say?” Barry is saying then, but she’s not listening. “Steph?”

Stephanie is so out of it that she can’t answer. She grits her teeth, trying not to wince, when her temples begin throbbing. Her entire body is giving her signals. All she wants to do is rest. Sleep. Sleep for a really long time.

“Steph” He sternly calls her, taking her free hand when she feebly leans on him. “W-What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” She gulps, avoiding his gaze as she lowers her head in the hopes that the stillness can level her dizziness. “Just got a bit light-headed”

“You sure you’re okay?” When she doesn’t answer, he continues. His voice carries a hint of panic. “You’re still recovering, maybe you should have stayed-”

“I’m okay” She rushes to say, trying her best to smile at him. “Just a bit tired”

“Steph, you almost died not that long ago” Barry gravely says, subtly sinking his fingers into her arm. “And you don’t look so good”

“Barry” She begins to say, tiredly tilting her head as she peers at him. Her vision blurs, but she tries to fight through her unwell. “I’m just… a bit weak…”

He doesn’t reply, only furrowing his brow and feeling a pang of concern in his chest. He had been scared enough to find her after the accident, it only makes it worse to see her in that state still. He doesn’t think he could take the idea of her not being alright.

“And…” Stephanie gulps, wobbling slightly. “V-Very dizzy…”

Barry wraps an arm around her. His heart is racing in unease. Just as he supports her, Stephanie falters. The breath hitches in his throat as he tightens his hold on her and presses her against his side.

“Steph?!” His voice breaks as the concern completely takes over him.

For a few seconds she doesn’t reply, only limply lying against him. Memories of finding her after the accident return to Barry, and he grimaces at the mental image. Luckily, she reacts in time to pull him out of those dark thoughts.

“I’m… okay…” She tells him in a daze, voice weak.

Still firmly holding on to her, he presses his free hand against her forehead. Stephanie’s skin feels warm, confirming his suspicions that she was still sick.

“I’m taking you home” Barry states. “No buts, you need to rest”

Stephanie babbles, opening and closing her mouth. If only he knew the true reason behind her state. But he can never know. In any case, she doesn’t feel lucid enough to speak. The mere idea that she has a secret identity feels far too surreal at the moment, even to herself.

“Can you walk?” Barry tenderly moves the hair away from her face, trying to take a good look at her. She only shakes her head, frowning as she tiredly puts her head on his shoulder. “Okay, up you go”

Straining a little, he grunts as he sweeps her off the floor and into his arms. Stephanie suddenly feels incredibly safe and comfortable in his embrace, and the deep unwell lessen slightly.

“You’re strong…” She chuckles, and she briefly wonders why she’s tilted to the side even though her head is still resting against his shoulder.

“See? You’re clearly delirious” They peer at each other for a moment.

The slight motion of picking her head off his shoulder sends a wave of vertigo through her. She whimpers, closing her eyes tight and gingerly resting her head on his shoulder again. Then, a sudden change of position startles her. When she opens her eyes, they are already at her place. Baffled, she feebly glances around. A moment ago they were… and now… she must be really delirious...

“We’re here” Barry carries her inside. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

“No, I just…” She starts to say, but her voice then becomes urgent. “Put me down”

Confused, Barry does as she says. When she is on her feet again, Stephanie presses her hands over her mouth. The wave of nausea soon passes, much to her relief. However, everything else does too.

Barry exclaims as he throw himself forward to catch her. Stephanie drops down, falling limply to the ground. His arms break her fall and he nervously scoops her into them again.

“Oh my gosh…” He mumbles as he rushes her to the bed. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh…”

He shakily sighs to himself as he carefully lies her down. The girl’s arms stay locked around his neck even when he lets go of her. Barry stops to intently watch her. She now looks peaceful, as though she badly needed that rest. She’s resting, he tells himself. Yeah, just resting. Her chest softly moves up and down with her calm breathing.

“She’s okay” Barry assures himself, although he begins pacing up and down her room.

Thousands of terrible thoughts battle in his brain. She’s sick again. She hasn’t recovered. She’s dying. The accident was too much for her, she will never fully recover.

“Okay, calm down, Barry” He takes a deep breath, even if he still paces. “She’s fine, she’s gonna be alright”

He tells himself that all those thoughts are lies. They are just fears, not reality. Interrupting himself, Barry stops and looks at her again. Stephanie lies motionlessly in the bed. She is still pale, but she doesn’t look terribly sick. He sighs and resumes his pacing.

“She’s not as bad as she was in the hospital” Barry whispers, trying not to wake her. “She looked much worse then. Besides, Steph’s strong, she’ll be fine, she’ll be-”

Barry’s phone rings, startling him so much that he yelps and jumps in place.

“H-Hello?”

“Barry?”

The boy finally quits his pacing for good. His hand flies to his forehead. He had totally forgotten he was supposed to return to the Batcave after being with Steph. Things had seemed to gotten worse. After their rescue on the train, panic had seemed to reign on the streets for several hours. There was no explanation, but they knew it had something to do with the rest of strange events. And maybe a villain was behind it all.

But now… Stephanie needs him. She is sick. Now he can’t leave her.

“Bruce! I’m so sorry” Barry rapidly says. “I know I should be there, but Steph got really sick and…”

“Is she alright?”

“Y-Yeah, yeah… I think so…”

“And you?”

“I’m fine, I just got scared…” He sighs, settling his nerves. “Really freaking scared”

“So you can’t make it?” Bruce asks him, but at least Barry is relieved that there is no anger or annoyance in his voice.

“I’m afraid not… I’m really sorry, I just…”

“I understand” The man replies. “But we have to check that out”

“Sure, yeah!” Barry nervously ruffles his own hair. “You guys be careful out there, okay?”

“We will” Bruce gently says. “Take care of your friend”

“Yeah” The boy absently hangs up, turning to her once more. She is now lying over her side, having turned slightly in her sleep.

Barry watches her, wondering how he can contain such an immense amount of fondness for her. Just the sight of her pale face was enough to break his heart. If he could, he would hold her tight and never let go, protect her from everything.

When he slowly walks closer to her, a board of the wooden floor creaks. Barry freezes, but it’s too late. Stephanie groggily turns around, opening her eyes moving her head to look around her.

“Barry?” She mumbles, looking around, disoriented. “What…?”

What is Barry doing there with her? However, she quickly forgets about him when her eyes fall on the window. It’s almost dawn. An alarm blasts in her head as her usual routine occupies all her thoughts. She needs to get ready!

"I gotta go to work!" Stephanie makes to stand from the bed, but Barry is faster. He pushes her by the shoulders and forces her to lie down again.

"What?” He exclaims, feeling that anguish that he had just gotten rid of creeping up again. “Are you… are you serious?"

"Barry, I’m gonna be late! Our investigation is very important, it will help so many-"

“Oh my gosh, Steph!” He exclaims, in a surprisingly loud and exasperated voice that instantly silences her in astonishment. “Can you stop thinking about everyone else and take care of yourself for one minute?! Don’t you remember what happened to you?!”

And suddenly, with his words, Stephanie does remember. The accident, the hospital, the heroic attempt, the inexplicable dread in the air… Everything. She relaxes, forgetting about work. She now remembers she hasn’t gone to the lab in a week. But it’s too late for Barry.

Stephanie gawks at him, having no words to retaliate. His sudden outburst is so unexpected that she is utterly speechless. A second after he finishes his sentence, however, his eyes widen in surprise as well. They silently stare at each other.

“I’m so sorry” He utters, averting his gaze in shame. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, I just…”

“You’re right… I just got a little disoriented” Stephanie reaches out to delicately take his hand, which he reluctantly allows. “I’m going to lie down, okay?”

The boy nods his head, and he doesn’t move at first even as she insists. When Stephanie tugs at his fingers, he starts to move slowly. Barry turns, hesitantly facing her. Stephanie only pulls a little harder, inviting to sit with her as she returns to her previous spot. Exhaling all the anguish in a shaky breath, Barry joins her in the bed.

No more words are spoken for several seconds. Stephanie doesn’t let go of Barry’s hand. His eyes are watery. Even as he looks away again, she knows, and that is why she tugs at him until they’re both lying down. Resting on their sides, they’re now facing each other. They just rest there for a moment, letting all the tension in the air to vanish and lingering on their positions until Stephanie’s soft voice breaks the silence.

“Are you okay, Barry?”

“Yeah...” He takes a deep breath in. “Just a little shaky”

“I’m sorry…” She mutters, and her hand is delicately pressing against his cheek before she can stop herself. “I really hate to worry you”

“You can’t scare me like that again, okay? Ever” Barry replies, taking her hand off his face and clutching it between both his palms. “Just when I thought you were out of danger you faint on me like that and…”

“I’m okay, Barry” Stephanie assures, chuckling a little when his eyes fall upon hers in a skeptical manner. “I’m better now, really, I just need some rest”

“I can assure you, you’re getting some rest” Remnants of that exasperated tone linger in his voice. “I’m making sure you get some sleep even if I have to lie all day here with you!”

“Is that a threat?” She tenderly smiles, and the callback causes Barry to chuckle.

He pauses, taking a moment to sigh and calm himself.

“Are you really feeling okay?” He lovingly presses her hand against his chest. His heart is drumming underneath it. “Don’t lie to me, Steph, I’ll know”

“I am, I promise” Stephanie snuggles closer to him, embracing his warmth and comforting presence. “Just a little tired”

“What happened to you?” He whispers in concern, even if his arm automatically falls over her frame. “I thought you had rested a lot, that you were recovered. Did I overdo it today? I really tried to…”

“No, no, it’s not that” The girl locks eyes with him, biting her lip as she wonders if she should tell him. In the end she partially does, thinking that he doesn’t need to know the true reason behind her little adventure. “When I went for that walk earlier I… I don’t know… Something affected me… It was like the air was contaminated… It made me feel scared and horrible”

“What was it?”

“I have no idea… I just know there’s something strange going on in this city”

“Yeah, I know…” Barry somberly mutters. After a brief pause, he feels his shoulders relaxing the closer she is. “Try to get some sleep, okay? I’ll watch over you”

Stephanie breathes in, just at the same time that Barry does, and peacefully exhales with him. She hasn’t been feeling safe ever since that awful experience from before. Now, next to Barry and enveloped by his arms, she feels the safest she’s ever been.

Tag list: @scared-to-be-lonely345 / @ocfairygodmother // Ask to be added to be notified when I post for this series!!

#loves worth running to #lwrt #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry allen x oc #barry allen imagine #ezra miller #justice league #justice league imagine #justice league series #dc #dc series #dc imagine #oc #series #original character

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lu-undy · 3 years

Text

New Sniper/Spy work!

This time I’m going back to the “fluffy request” format. You may send a few lines for an idea, or a bit of dialogue between Sniper and Spy and I will turn it into a short story.

Here is the first one: "Sniper catches Spy reading a book, the title of which is "Solitude, But Two". More curiously, the Frenchman stares and blushes..."

As always, I recommend reading it from AO3, following the underlined link, the formatting is better there. :)

The team's effort had earned them victory upon victory that day, and as it was the end of the week, the mercenaries all gathered in the common room. Some were playing cards, some were watching the television, while others were chatting with a beer in their hands.

On one of the chairs lay Sniper, his hat on his face and his hands crossed on his stomach, making sure the bottle of beer there wouldn't slide down and fall. His absurdly long legs were flowing straight in front of him, with his feet almost touching the sofa facing him. The noise of Demoman's hearty laughter woke him up from his nap and the Aussie winced as he removed the hat from his face.

Flash, too bright. He grumbled and blinked repeatedly for his eyes to adjust to the light. When his brow relaxed, his eyes fell on his colleague on the sofa opposite him. His varnished, black Italian shoe was tracing slow circles in the air. Sniper followed the pinstripe pattern of his trousers up to the Frenchman's lap. The man in the mask was sitting with one leg on top of the other, reading a book.

As Sniper's eyes rose lazily from the book, he realised that Spy's cheeks were pink, and his eyes were on the Aussie himself. The second their eyes met, Spy's eyes flashed back to the book and he frowned harder.

Sniper's eyebrows jumped in surprised. He saw his colleague exhale the smoke of his cigarette through his nostrils. Ha, what kind of emotion was the snake trying to convey, huh?

"Hey, Snipes has woken up, guys. Yo, wanna join up? We're gonna play darts."

"If ye wanna lose again…" The Aussie answered as he adjusted his posture on the seat. "How high's the bet? Wouldn't wanna rob you of your pocket money."

"Right, fine, go back to your nap… Jeez…" Scout turned his back and joined his group of colleagues to play darts.

Sniper's head turned back to Spy and to his greatest surprise, he found the Frenchman staring at him, with pink cheeks at that!

"What?" Sniper asked. "Got somethin' on my face?"

Spy's eyes darted back to his book and his brow furrowed.

"Non. My apologies."

Sniper frowned for a second, but didn't think much of it. He looked at his bottle and realised it was empty. So he stood up to go and grab another one. As he came back, he tried to read the title of the book. He winced as he managed to catch only the first two words.

Solitude, but…

There was another word but it was hidden by Spy's gloved fingers. Bah…

Sniper resumed his seat and lazily enjoyed his beer, while listening to the conversations here and there, his ears jumping from one voice to the other. He stretched his arms and legs. "Oh, sorry." He had kicked Spy's foot. The Frenchman buried his head deeper in the book.

Sniper ignored it and lay back on the chair. When his eyes went around all of his colleagues, they came back to see what was in front of him and again fell on the Frenchman. To say he was absorbed by his reading was the understatement of the century. The Aussie knew that Spy enjoyed reading. It wasn't the first time that his participation in the Friday evening activities consisted solely in sitting on the sofa or the armchair and reading, surrounded by the ambient chatter of his colleagues. And if he wasn’t mistaken, it looked like it had been the same book for the past few weeks at least.

Sniper’s eyebrows jumped in surprise when he realised that Spy had raised his eyes to him. Their gazes hang up in the air for a moment, Sniper’s cheeks turned pink while Spy’s already were.

Their eyes snapped away from each other and Spy cleared his throat. The end of his cigarette lit up in bright orange before the smoke exited his nostrils in a long laminar sigh.

Often, Sniper didn't even know when Spy would leave. One moment he was there and the next, he was gone. He probably left because of the noise getting to him, or something being a tiny inconvenience for a normal person, but a huge annoyance for the aristocratically mannered Frenchman.

Sniper's eyes stayed on Spy for a while. He wondered what he looked like under the mask, like everyone else. All he knew was that he had light blue, almost grey eyes, with black and long eyelashes. His nose was slightly hooked and his lips very thin. They always held a cigarette, to the point where Sniper wondered if his colleague slept or showered with them too…

Spy's eyes were scanning the printing lines at a constant rate, and sometimes, his eyes would stop, he would squint and come back a few lines ago to read a paragraph again. Sniper noticed with amusement that whatever Spy was feeling, it would leak through the subtle movement of his eyebrows. Lightly frowning or relaxing them was more than Sniper usually saw him show.

Curious and mysterious man he was that Spy. But a good teammate and undoubtedly redoubtable in his trade. An assassin as loud as a shadow, but his seconds would be counted upon being found out, a bit like Sniper himself. And similarly to him too, he wasn't one to be very talkative. He would say what was required of him to say, and not more. Small talk wasn't something the Aussie was well versed in but no doubt Spy was different. With the successes he was said to have with women, surely he was very good at it but just chose not to partake in it with his colleagues.

He respected them as far as work was concerned, but beyond that, Sniper didn't think that Spy would call his colleagues "friends". Ah, actually, did he even know what a friend was? Had he ever sat in a pub and enjoyed a few beers with friends?

Spy’s mind wasn’t in the common room at all. He was in the setting described by that story. Australia, the bushy and red desert. Wide and wild empty spaces, where the only noises would be those of the exotic birds. Ah, the descriptions really made his mind travel. He had never been to Australia, despite being fairly well travelled. His work had never taken him that far from home. Ha, home… If anyone asked him, he would answer that France was his home country, but it wasn’t his home per se. He didn’t feel more at home in France or right there, in the base. Such was the problem with travelling that much, nowhere is really home anymore.

Spy’s train of thought was interrupted when a bottle of beer appeared between him and the book.

“Here.”

Spy realised that Sniper was standing behind the sofa and handing him the bottle over his shoulder.

“Merci.” He accepted the beer and took it in his hand.

[Thank you.]

Sniper smiled.

"What’cha readin'?"

"Not over my shoulder." Spy shut the book.

"C'mon, you've been stopping every other minute and looking up to me. Just wanna know why, is all."

"I was not looking at you. I was just taking a break in my reading to process what I just read. Not everything has to do with you, Sniper."

"You've had that there novel in your coat for weeks, and you never let it leave your side; must be a damn good one, Spook."

"I enjoy some kind of literature. It takes my mind off of the fact that I live with lunatics."

"Well, I certainly understand the feeling." Sniper pointedly glared at Scout, who was in the process of unwedging his baseball from the rafters. "Mind sharing that little corner of sanity with me?"

"Non." Spy turned to Sniper. "Now, do you mind? I was in the middle of a chapter."

Sniper resumed his seat further away. He put his hat over his eyes and pretended to sleep. He let his breathing stabilise and knew Spy was watching him to make sure that he was asleep and no longer a disturbance for his reading. But Sniper also knew he was certainly more patient than the Frenchman.

Spy resumed his reading, raising his eyes from time to time in another direction. When he was convinced that Sniper was asleep, he raised his eyes and stared.

He stared…

Sniper could fall asleep anywhere at anytime in any situation, a great quality for a spy, when sometimes situations called for gathering strength in the least comfortable positions.

Sniper suddenly moved the hat away and stared back and Spy got startled, almost jumping on his seat.

"Gotcha starin' again, Spook...."

Spy frowned and left the room to go to his private one. He was obviously furious and fuming but Sniper noticed the blush on his cheeks, the embarrassment. God knew that man hated being embarrassed more than anything else.

Sniper decided to wait for a few minutes before he followed and knocked on his door.

"Who is this?"

"It's me."

"Non merci, see you tomorrow on the battlefield."

[No thanks]

"Spook..." Sniper insisted still behind the door.

"Would you understand it better in French?" Spy asked, irritated.

"C'mon, Spook, just a minute.... Or maybe you'd prefer me to say everythin' I want out in the open, in the corridor...?"

Spy rolled his eyes and shut the book. He pushed himself to stand up and stood off of his armchair to open the door.

"Come in and make it quick."

"Right, right... Can I sit down or do I have to pay extra?"

Spy gestured to the sofa, next to his armchair.

"What is it you seek?"

"You were starin'. Just wanna know why. I checked my face, I don't have anythin' on it, so what is it?"

Spy frowned and put a hand on the bridge of his nose.

"Is that about that book you've been reading?"

The Frenchman looked away, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Seems to take you places, that book. What is it about...?"

Spy reached for it on the coffee table but Sniper had the same idea. Both withdrew their hands.

"Hey... I just wanna understand cause uh... those looks you give me when you stare at me. Even Engie noticed the blush on yer face."

Spy put a hand on his face.

"Oh, merde...." Spy sighed.

[Oh, shit...]

"I just wanna understand, is all. If it was a magazine, I'd thought it was one of those that Scout's gettin' delivered, eh...."

"Bushman!"

"I know, I know, not your style. So I'm just wonderin'. What the hell gets your cheeks red?"

"I hardly blush. And you cannot see it with the mask."

"Maybe, but I can still see it up there...."

Sniper raised his finger closer to Spy's face, on his upper cheeks. Spy’s eyes followed the finger until they got too close to his personal space and slapped the hand away.

"What do you think you are doing?!"

Sniper took advantage of the Frenchman being destabilised for a fraction of a second to snatch the book away and run out of Spy’s quarters.

"BUSHMAN!"

Spy ran after him, racing the man with taller legs than him, until the Aussie locked himself up in the back of his van.

"BUSHMAN, GIVE ME BACK MY BOOK!"

"Hold on! Need to read the back page, what's this about....?"

Spy banged the door repeatedly with a furious fist.

"BUSHMAN!"

Sniper read, loud enough for Spy to hear from the other side of the thin door.

"After a decade out of his job, the retired Frenchman is called again by no less than the Minister of Defense himself. There is a case to solve, that only the ex-spy can deal with. So he puts on his suit and tie again and flies to Australia where his target is.

He does a good job on his own, until a certain wild kangaroo barges into his mission, and his life."

Spy had stopped knocking on the door and gulped down his constricted throat, sweat breaking on his brow.

"Sounds like something you could be in, eh?"

"Bushman, give me my book NOW!"

"Or what? You gonna disguise yourself as a sheet of paper and slide under the door?"

Sniper couldn’t really hear or understand what the Frenchman mumbled under his breath, and just chuckled at how ridiculously Spy had reacted, chasing him down the base and outside, all the way to his van. But now that he had the book, let’s just open that thing and read bits…

“Oh… Oh hold on…” Sniper frowned, his smile vanishing more as he read line after line.

From the other side of the thin door, Spy got his cigarette case out, opened it to retrieve the pins he concealed there, and started to pick the lock.

"Oh bugger... I get it.... I.... Wow.... That's why you were starin' at me and blushin' like a sheila...? Wait, hold on, if you're looking at me like that and all, does that mean you-Woof?!"

The lock yielded and Spy barged in the room full force, tackling Sniper to the floor.

"Give me back my book!" Spy roared.

"Hold on…" Sniper looked at Spy with wide astounded eyes.

The man in the suit took the opportunity of Sniper being distracted to snatch the book back and stand up. He dusted off his suit.

"Spook...?"

"Good night." Spy turned and headed away.

"Hold on!" Sniper jumped to his feet and held him back from his shoulder.

"What now?! Can't I be left in peace?!" Spy was infuriated.

"Hey…"

Sniper’s voice was much softer than Spy’s raging one. Their eyes met.

"How far were you in the book?"

"What?" Spy squinted.

"How far were you in? Beginnin'? Middle?"

“Why do you care?”

“Just answer! Closer to the beginnin’ or the end?”

Spy sighed and his shoulders sank.

"Closer to the beginning than the end, why?"

"Wanna... Read it together?" Sniper gestured to inside his van. "I don't have a couch or anythin', but there's a bench, or the bed if it's too uncomfy for you…"

"Wh-...?" Spy was at a loss.

"I only read bits. Don't leave me hangin', eh?" Sniper smiled. The Frenchman stared in disbelief. "C'mon, I wanna know what happens to the French Spook in Australia."

"If you ever speak of this…" Spy raised a threatening finger to his colleague.

“I know, I know, tiny knife between my shoulder blades, yada yada yada.... Now come in and let's shut the door before someone sees us."

“I would do so much more than just backstab you, believe me.” Spy threatened but nonetheless entered the van fully.

Sniper stared in astonishment as Spy removed his jacket and loosened the tie on his neck before removing his shoes and climbing the ladder to the bed.

"Oh alright…"

"Do you have any water in this ridiculous dwelling of yours?"

"Yeah, I'll get you a glass. I'd tell you to get comfy but you already did...."

"Come on, I don't have all day...."

"A minute! Jesus, you're supposed to be patient and all, aren't you?"

Sniper climbed up and joined Spy on the bed before switching on his night lamp. The light was yellow and not too bright.

"How can you take so much space with yer skinny arse?"

"I am not! You are the one pushing me! Also, I could do without any remarks on my behind, thank you very much Bushman!"

"I’m not pushin’ you... Anyway, here, yer bloody water, now... You can pick up where you left off, don't need to start at the beginnin', eh."

"Merci. I was not going to anyway. Now...."

"And I read slow, so don't go and turn the pages too fast, yeah?"

"May I start already?" Spy rolled his eyes up, part of him still wildly surprised.

"Yeah, yeah, alright, go ahead…"

Spy took a sip of water and started reading out loud.

"Hold on, what are you doin'?!"

"I am reading, wasn’t that what you wanted now, Bushman?"

"Out loud? I know how to read, eh!"

"A pleasant surprise.” Spy answered. “Now, you wanted the story, yes or no?"

"Yeah?"

"So keep quiet."

Spy took a deep breath and resumed the reading. Time passed, pages were turned, Spy only stopped to drink a bit of water from time to time. Sniper enjoyed himself. Spy knew how to read well. His tone, his voice and the way he played the characters in the dialogues were very pleasant to the Aussie’s ear.

Sniper leaned his head on Spy's shoulder, following the text on the page with his eyes. Spy was taken aback for a split second, but carried on, choosing to ignore it rather than making it more awkward. After all, he was in Sniper’s bed reading him a story...

Holy dooley…

Sniper wasn’t expecting that. Spy was now reading a moment of… romance between the French spy and the Aussie in the story. The Frenchman kept his composure, force of professional habit, but Sniper started to get uncomfortable, a bit like when he was watching the TV with his parents and a hot scene came on. What made it all so much real was Spy’s voice acting of the characters. For the French spook, he wasn’t changing his voice at all but for the Aussie hunter, he sounded strikingly like the enemy Sniper. And the flirting written in the story, the banter, it all sounded so real.

"Bushman?"

"Hm?"

"Why are you shaking?"

"I-I'm not. Keep goin'."

"Sniper…"

Spy looked down on his shoulder. Sniper avoided eye contact, his eyes remained glued to the book as if his life depended on it.

"You lie very poorly."

"Well... good thing I'm not paid for it then I guess...."

"Indeed. Now, what is the problem?"

"Nothin'. C'mon, continue, or I'll read it...!"

"You are trembling, you can barely speak and you try to make me believe that you will read this out loud? Go ahead then, humour me."

A smirk crept across Spy's thin lips.

"Uh... Right... Where were we... Uh... I-I can't find the line anymore!"

"I have my finger on it, Sniper.”

"Yeah, well…"

"Now, what is it? Have you never read un roman à l'eau de rose before?"

"A what now?"

"Literally, a 'novel with rose water', it is an expression we use to describe a romance novel. Have you never read one of those before?"

"N-not really.... They're books for sheilas…"

"Do I look like one?" Spy asked.

"No…"

"Then, it is not."

"It's not what?"

"'A book for sheilas'. Now, shall we resume?"

"Spook...?"

"What?"

"I'm just... It's an Aussie hunter and a French Spy in the story, right?"

"Oui."

"Is that why... I mean..."

"You are trembling for the same reason that I was blushing." Spy answered. “Now, may I?”

"'s bloody ridiculous, I'm sorry."

"It is fine." Spy leaned his head on top of Sniper's.

"Shall we resume now?"

"Uh, hold on... Ahem... I-I'm sorry.... I-it's worse now...."

"Mon Dieu.... Wait, can you hold the book for an instant?"

"I-I can try...."

Sniper held the book open with shaking hands and watched as Spy removed one glove, then the next.

"I can hold it now, merci."

The Aussie gave him back the book, Spy held it with one hand, as he slithered the other to Sniper's.

"Now, where were we? Ah," Spy cleared his throat and resumed reading as if he wasn’t holding Sniper’s hand. The Aussie's heart backflipped in his chest the moment Spy's slender fingers reached his.

"Can you turn the page, please?"

"Uh, sure… Spook?"

"What now?" Spy sighed.

"Thanks, eh."

"Hm."

Spy’s fingers slid between Sniper’s and he felt the trembling fingers struggle but reciprocate. The Aussie shifted on the bed slightly to adjust his head against Spy's shoulder. Spy lifted his head, and then leaned it again once Sniper was comfortable again.

"Shall we resume now?"

"Yeah, I think I'm uh... I'm better."

Spy started reading again.

"Spook?"

Another, longer sigh.

"What is it, now?"

"Will ya… remove your mask too?"

"Non."

"Oh, okay…"

"It is too cold in your van."

"Hold on…"

Sniper hopped out of bed, turning on the heater.

"Are you serious?" Spy asked.

"It's just to see if you look like the bloke from the book, is all."

Mundy quickly covered them both with the blanket.

"Alright, carry on, sorry…"

"Now it is too hot." Spy complained, thinking that Sniper would snap at him and ask him to leave.

"Will you remove your mask, then?"

Spy’s eyebrows jumped. He didn’t expect that.

"Non."

"Oh... So you just said that like that....? Alright...."

Spy resumed his reading but his mind wasn’t on the story. His whole attention was on the hand he was holding, on the fingers that now slithered back between his. He stopped reading sharp. Sniper waited, expecting Spy to take a sip of water but the Frenchman didn’t move.

“What?” Sniper asked. “You didn’t finish the page so I’m not gonna turn it.”

"Would you like to remove it for me?"

“Remove the page?” Sniper was confused.

“Non, my mask.”

The Aussie's eyes snapped wide, his jaw lowering as if it had a mind of its own.

"Wait…" He looked up at Spy. "You serious?"

“Am I ever in the habit of joking?”

“I don’t know, you’re so hard to follow.”

"Do you want to see if I look like Lucien from the book or not?"

"Yeah! I mean…” Sniper calmed down. “If that's ok with you...?"

"Then, go ahead." Spy closed the book and turned to face Sniper, who sat up and turned to the Frenchman.

“You sure?”

“The more you ask and wait, the higher the probability of me changing my mind.” Spy answered seemingly annoyed.

“Right, right…” Sniper raised his hands up and his fingers approached the Frenchman’s neck. He pinched the fabric and looked up at Spy’s face. The man was staring at him with his arctic blue eyes that seemed even more light under the yellow night lamp. Sniper took a deep breath and rolled the fabric up before gently pulling it up.

"Jesus Christ..." Sniper took an instant to discover all the features unknown until then.

Spy carded his hair back with a nonchalant hand.

"So, does the description fit me?" He smirked, amused by Sniper’s astonishment.

"Ah... I mean... Uh... I... Uhm... Hold on...."

"Come on, just be honest. That should be easy for you, you lie terribly."

"You're gorgeous." The sentence escaped Sniper’s lips and his control. It was one thread of air that slid out of him. Spy’s eyebrows jumped, not that he wasn’t used to hearing it, but as the years passed, he heard it less and less. Besides, it wasn’t anyone who was saying it, but the Aussie hunter.

"Well, thank you. You don't look all that bad yourself. Now, shall we resume?"

"Y-yeah…"

Sniper sat back next to Spy and looked back up at him.

"Sniper…"

"Hm?"

"You do realise that you are staring at my face?"

"Oh, bugger, sorry...." Sniper’s eyes moved away to fall on the book again, but he didn’t see the pages, the ink on the paper, the bed, the van. All that his brain projected on his eyes was Spy’s naked face...

"Sniper?"

"Yeah?"

"I never asked you to stop."

Sniper’s head swooshed to Spy’s with wide open eyes. The Frenchman smiled, sweetly.

“I uh… What are you doin’? You playin’ with my nerves or somethin’?”

“You were the one to invite me in your bed.” Spy smirked as he knew very well that his comment would make Sniper blush and it didn’t miss. The Aussie exhaled long and hard, before wiping his sweaty hands on his trousers. “Come on, will you play the shy card now?”

“What’re you playin’ at?”

“Your invitation and the fact that I am still here speaks at length for what you think about me. But it is curious that you worked up the courage to ask me to remove my mask, but not to just phrase what you feel.”

“Get out of my head, Spook.”

“My apologies.” Spy chuckled.

“Although I s’ppose if you are in my head, you don’t need me to tell you anythin’. You’ve read it already.”

“I am afraid so.”

“You’re afraid so?” Sniper repeated.

“Oui, I started reading and could not really stop.” Spy answered. “More seriously, you have not kicked me out yet, so I suppose you don’t find my company to be too much of a burden.”

“Yeah, I guess this tells me that you're ok with me too.” Sniper raised his hand, which fingers were still intertwined with Spy’s.

“You guess correctly.”

Their eyes met again and both smiled.

“What do you think of the story so far?” Spy asked.

“It’s nice. Although I don’t think I’m that shy with you.”

“Indeed. But you should read the rest, you become braver.”

“I thought you hadn’t read more of it?”

“Oh, please. I have read it again and again.”

“You liar.”

“When I need to, oui.”

“So you’ve been readin’ this book on loop, eh?”

“Oui, it was a curious find. There is this bookshop I like in town and I was having a look around when the shopkeeper recommended it to me. I read the summary at the back and it caught my attention. Since then, the book hasn’t left my side. And I am delighted to have shared a part that I enjoy with you. But this book, it is the only company I have besides that of that awfully clingy mistress.”

Sniper raised a curious eyebrow.

“You have a sheila?” He removed his hand from Spy’s and the Frenchman chuckled, oddly enough.

“I think you and I share her.”

“What?! No! I don’t have any sheila! I’m-I’m with no one!”

“Sniper?”

“What?”

“Do you want to drive her away with me?” Spy asked, looking deep in the lagoon blue irises of the Aussie.

“Oi, not gonna stand between you and your sheila!”

“Sniper, I am not talking about a woman. I mean the Solitude that fills my days as much as it does yours.” Spy finally explained and Sniper saw his light irises half hide behind a delicate curtain of long, black eyelashes.

“I… Uh… Spy…”

The Frenchman smiled. It was egotistical and narcissistic of him, but he loved seeing it, seeing the moment the person he had in his mind fall for him, and with Sniper, it was just then and there. Spy slid his fingers through Sniper’s again and leaned his head on his shoulder.

“Please?” Spy asked in a whisper, a thin thread of air that punched Sniper’s guts out of his body. That voice, that damned voice, that accent… “Spend some time with me.”

“Gosh…” Sniper felt the soft waves of air against his neck and his heartbeat accelerated. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on Spy’s hand. “Y-you serious?” He whispered back, for no one else to hear, in the secrecy of the dimly lit van.

“What do you think?” Sniper could hear the smirk through Spy’s whisper. “Here I am, in your bed, with you, without my mask. Do you think that it is all staged, all a joke, a prank?”

“I-I don’t know… It’s just… It’s just too good to be true.” Sniper’s breath was hard and fast. He screwed his eyes shut harder and leaned his head on the wall behind him, raising it and feeling Spy’s breath periodically blow on his neck, constantly reminding him that he was there, the gorgeous devil in a suit and tie. Oh Sniper wanted to remember it, he wanted to bottle up those whispers, those intense and secret words, those feelings, bottle them up somewhere and reopen the bottle when he felt too lonely. He wanted to believe Spy’s words.

“Too good to be true? Hm…” Spy smirked and raised a finger. Sniper felt it grazing his skin on his jaw.

“S-Spy…”

The Frenchman turned and slid a leg between the Aussie.

“Let us sleep. You are tense and could do with a bit of rest.” Spy pulled him down to lie and threw away his own tie before opening a couple of buttons on his shirt. He snuggled up against Sniper and used his shoulder as a pillow.

“Spy?”

Sniper raised his head to look down at Spy. The Frenchman looked up at him.

“Oui?”

“You serious?”

Spy graced Sniper with one of those smiles that made the Aussie’s insides burn.

“Oui…” The Frenchman went to his ear. “You can call me Lucien, Mundy.” Sniper’s eyes snapped wide. He turned to look at Spy and his body reacted before his mind could hold it back.

Coffee and nicotine were all he could taste on the thin lips of the man he was holding between his hands, in his bed.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT #request

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adsosfraser · 3 years

Text

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Nine

Read on AO3

Jamie woke that morning, to his wife tangled around him. The singular thing driving him was between his legs. He kissed her neck and tugged at her skin with a sharp sting. Claire stirred and smiled up at him. Gathering her bottom lip between his teeth, his hands meandered down her shoulders, to the slope of her breasts, to her abdomen, and finally lifted the plump piece of flesh that he loved so much.

“Is this real? Are you real?”

“Would I do this if I was only a dream Sassenach?” He pinched the backside of her arse and grinned. She yelped in response and swatted his fingers away from the now stinging flesh.

“You’re real.” She smiled and placed her palms on either side of his jaw.

“I’ll prove just how real enough I am lass.” He smirked and moved his hands away from her backside, further down to cup between her legs.

“Jamie. Stop.” Claire panted out.

“Have I hurt ye, Claire?” He immediately pulled away, hovering over her and softly brushing her sides.

“No, but there are some things I need to tell you… before we’re intimate.”

“Is this about Frank?”

“What? No! Why on earth would you be thinking about him?”

“Well did ye?-”

“Once. But I didn’t encourage it.” Her lips tightened into a line. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk about Jamie.”

Before he could eek out a livid response, Claire jumped out of the bed towards the corner of the room. Pulling out a small silver box inside her leather bag, she plucked out a dome-shaped cup. She had two more tucked away in the small metal tin. Her hands then grabbed purchase of a small vial within her medicine bag. The objects flew onto the bed and she plopped down next to Jamie.

“This,” she pointed to the vial, “is a concoction of fennel and posies.”

Jamie had grabbed the odd rubber cup and rolled it between his fingers. Claire swatted it out of his hands a little annoyed at her husband’s dirty fingernails; she would have to clean it again.

“And this,” she waved the small cup in front of his eyes, “is a diaphragm. Some call it a ‘womb veil’. These are all forms of birth control.”

“Birth… control?” He rolled out the syllables in his last word.

“Yes, preventative measures to avoid pregnancy.”

“Christ, ye would kill a bairn!” He immediately regretted his words as his wife recoiled and her eyes betrayed the hurt inside of her.

“No, because there would be none in the first place. It stops the sperm- seed from ever even getting into a woman to create the baby in the first place.”

“But surely God-” He spoke more softly.

“Would want me to use it.” Tears pricked at her eyes. “Jamie I’m not… I’m not ready.” Jamie shifted to hold his wife closer as the atmosphere changed from playful to sombre. “I couldn’t go through that again to not have my baby in my arms. I truly think it would kill me, it almost did.”

His heart softened at her admission and he knew he would do whatever would make her safe and happy, even if it meant a life of celibacy. But he hoped to God it would never come to that.

“I dinna want ye to bear another child. I wouldna risk your loss Sassenach.” Jamie carefully pulled a curl away from her eye. “Not for a dozen bairns. We’ve Fergus and our nephew and nieces- weans enough. And our two beautiful lasses are wi’ God. So,” he paused to blink away the moisture in his eyes and swallow down the tightness of his throat, “if this wee diaphragm,” he rolled the word around his tongue, ”and posy is what’ll help ye I’ll gladly pick it fer you every day if that’s your wish.”

He picked up the diaphragm from her hands again, inspecting it more closely. “How does this wee thing work?”

“Well, I place it inside me so it covers my cervix, it should rest comfortably against my pubic bone.”

“Ye put that… inside ye?” He was completely disturbed by the thought.

“It’s not like there hasn’t been anything in there before, and I’d dare say it was even larger than that ‘wee thing’.” She grabbed a healthy hold of him to emphasise her point.

“Aye, that it is.” He looked down with pride and she rolled her eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.

“I’ll have to take the herbs one more week, to be safe. Can you wait for me?”

“I’d wait forever if it came to it, fer ye Sassenach, always.”

“Well, and we can always do other things.” She flipped Jamie to his back and her head travelled down his body to the curls nestled atop his pubic bone. “So long as you don’t, ‘spill your seed’ inside of me. Well inside my-”

He expressed his agreement with a loud grunt.

Six days later, Jamie was practically jumping in his skin with anticipation. He had gone back to the cave, much to Claire’s dismay. Instructing her to stay at Lallybroch, he wasn’t surprised when her head of curls popped into the shadows of the fire in his small sanctuary. He was very attentive, eager to make sure she kept up her steady intake of fennel and posy. They spent most of the days cuddling together and ignoring anyone else but themselves when he wasn’t out hunting for food. Most of the food was sent off to Lallybroch through Fergus. She didn’t want to admit it, but they were both avoiding their family’s disorderly presence and unanswerable questions. Fergus stopped by frequently and Claire was glad of the company while Jamie was off. Claire spoke to both Jamie and Fergus about her many childhood adventures; those stories were safe from the fresh pang of loss she had endured. But Jamie finally put his foot down on the final night when Claire got a crick in her neck and returned her back, but her wee hands gripped him hard into their bed. There would be no returning to the cave.

Claire wrapped a shawl around her and tiptoed to the window. The sunrise was almost over, bringing with it an unusually bright and cloudless day. She peeked down across the courtyard, and her blood turned cold. Jamie was pulling up his breeks over his sark. Without hesitation, Claire shoved Jamie into the small wooden closet of the Laird’s room and quickly pulled the laces of her skirt and bodice. Not a moment later, the door banged open to the sight of a pock-marked redcoat. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the closet.

“Where is he?”

Claire played dumb, not willing to speak to reveal that her accent would be the same as his. That would raise even more questions that she couldn’t possibly answer. The only thing she could think of at that moment was to play into the delicacy of her gender and faint into his arms. With an overdramatic flare of the back of her hand to her forehead, she slumped onto the floor.

Her prone position reminded her of another stiff surface. A cold metal sheet, uncaring hands, and a pressure in circles on her temples. Panic squeezed her throat and veins.

“Captain! This woman needs assistance up here!”

But it was Jenny who appeared at the door, not the Captain.

She gathered Claire onto her lap as best as she could being so far along in her pregnancy. “Oh no! My puir cousin! Ye see she had a great fall one day. The tragedy took her speech and now she has spells such as these all the time. I’m heart sorry ye had to see that Corporal…?” Claire relaxed into the familiar arms, so different from the ones that had restrained her.

“Lieutenant Wilson.” He puffed out his chest.

“Weel, Lieutenant, as ye can see my cousin Mistress Malcolm has taken up residence in this room recently. Bless her soul, the accident that stole her speech took her husband as well.”

The redcoat placed his tricorn over his heart and bowed his head. “Terribly sorry madame. Thank you for your cooperation.”

“O’ course, now away wi’ ye, we must prepare yer meal.”

Jenny was panting and gripped Claire’s hand when the soldier whipped out of sight. Liquid seeped down her skirts and to the stone floor below. “Jenny-”

“We must tend to the redcoats first.”

“No. Jenny. You’re only eight months along. We need to see to you immediately.”

“The Lieutenant-”

“Can go hang. Ian and Mrs. Crook will see to them.”

Jamie slipped out undetected down to the root cellar.

Jenny cursed, screamed and paced around her room. The midwife was impossible, refusing to sanitise properly before touching Jenny and Claire finally kicked her out. No woman like that would be touching her sister nor her future niece or nephew. Jenny slumped into the bed with Claire’s help when her labouring was over. Caitlin Maisri Murray was impossibly tiny when she met the world. No screams wrenched through her tiny lungs and Claire was immediately pressing the child to her thigh. Her forefinger and middle finger pushed into her chest and she breathed into the limp body. Finally, her chest heaved two minutes later, and her loud banshee shrieks filled the room. Her niece was a fighter. With her help, she would weather her first days, which would soon turn into thousands.

She had taken up massaging the baby girl to soothe her traumatised muscles from the hard birth. Claire cradled her niece’s turned head carefully in her hand and propped her stomach on her legs. Her hands began to deftly massage the exhausted baby’s back, legs, and arms, and once she was finished she gave a small peck to her wee nose. She still had a lot of growing to do to recover, but Claire was certain she would become a scraggly and loose-toothed toddler and a beautiful teenager before growing into the mature young woman she could envision her as now. Opening her bright eyes, moisture gathered at the corner of her aunt’s eyes in reaction to the brilliant colour. They were so like Jamie’s, and she knew not all babies kept their original colour, but she hoped. Would her daughters’ eyes have looked like this?

The men had all dispersed for drinks in the Great Room downstairs and Claire brought Ian over to the side to share the great news. She signalled with her hands to keep up the pretence of her muteness but whispered quietly with nearly closed lips as well to Ian. The Captain, Claire presumed, sauntered over to her and held out a paper. Laird MacKenzie sprawled across the material in an adolescent scrawl.

“A letter for your Mistress. We thank you for your hospitality and wish her congratulations.” Claire nodded and tucked the paper into the pocket beneath her skirts.

It was dark, the middle of night, and Jamie snuck back in when the redcoats mounted their horses. He fell asleep immediately tucked into his wife. She grabbed the small grey tin from within her leather bag and pulled out the diaphragm. She adjusted it inside her until it laid comfortably and sighed. It had been days since her return, filled with distress and sickness, panic and dismay, and the events of the past few months had come crashing down upon her once again. She needed her husband. Crawling over him, he woke from his slumber. He grinned up at her and slowly came back to reality.

“Thanks to yer quick-thinking Sassenach, not only was my life saved but my wee niece and all in Lallybroch.”

“You saved my life James Fraser, on more accounts than one. I thought it might be fair for me to return the favour.” Claire smirked and rolled their bodies so she straddled him. “And not only that, I want to protect you forever Jamie. To see you safe until we’re old and grey, with an army of grand nephews and nieces, and the grandchildren Fergus will bless us with, to surround us. You can’t get rid of me ever again.” She softly kissed his forehead, along his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and slowly brushed her lips against his eager ones.

“Och, Sassenach. Stuck with ye for life? I can think of worse.” He stared back at his wife with mischief in his eyes and adjusted his body so they were both on their sides.

Claire rolled her eyes as she lightly slapped his arm. She leaned even closer to him, which seemed impossible with their skin flushed up together already. Her thumb trailed a line across his bottom lip and she replaced it with her own mouth.

“Make love to your wife.” She whispered, obstructed by his lips but he heard her like his life depended on the very cadence of her voice. Claire let go of his lips to kiss the spot behind his ear that made him squirm. “Make love to me Jamie.”

Their lovemaking was frantic, both seemingly clawed to possess every inch of skin.

When they laid dazed on their backs, recovering from their post-coital bliss, Jamie lightly pressed his fingers onto the fading burns on her stomach and traced up to the two identical circles on her temples. Her hand found the healing scar on his thigh and she stroked over the raised skin. She looked at the large gash across her husband's thigh, still red with the newness of the injury.

“How?”

“Culloden.” He gritted out. “How?”

Her hands guided his towards her stomach. “The stones.” Now, her temples. “Boston.”

She didn’t want to discuss it any further, just as he was reluctant to share the details of that dreary morning on the moor. She neglected the scar on her breast and he didn’t push any further for her to speak on it. Would he feel ashamed of her truth? Of course, he wouldn’t, but she did. It was difficult for her to think back on. Speaking on it would make it true, so she kept those memories locked tight in her brain. Maybe, with more time she could heal, and she would share everything with him completely like they once had been.

“Boston?”

“Danvers State Hospital to be specific. Or as some call it- will call it the State Lunatic Hospital at Danvers. Frank put me there when I-“

“Frank did this to you?” Jamie’s teeth clenched in anger and Claire could feel the heat radiating from his skin onto hers. “If he were here, I’d fight him fer ye Sassenach. I should ha’ never sent ye to him.”

“You couldn’t possibly have known. You were doing what you thought best, with the information we had at the time.”

“What is it, that left these scars on your puir heid?”

“They’ll fade. Soon there won’t even be a scar, I’m sure.”

“I dinna care about how they look on ye Sassenach, I care that ye went through pain to have them, I would ha’ gladly taken it myself.” His eyes were glossy as he implored her. “Now tell me.”

“In the asylum, they had these new treatments, electric shock therapy. They place these two rubber circles wrapped in like socks or something attached to a headband on your temples, and send volts of electricity through your brain. Like harnessing lightning right to your head.” His grip tightened, appalled at his wife’s description. “My mind was hazy for days, I couldn’t do much but stare listlessly at walls. I saw Fergus then, on the first night following the treatment, though I’m not sure he saw me.”

“He yelled out fer ye, almost at the same time every week.”

“Oh.” It felt better to know those nights he was truly there. “I was in there for little over a month, so I only had to endure it two times- wait no three, I think. I was a lot luckier than others, who were prisoners there for years on end. I shiver to think what that would have been like, a prisoner to your own mind and unable to say no to your jailer, or even saying no but them being apathetic towards your plight.”

“Fer all ye speak o’ the future, it doesna seem much better than now.”

“It’s true, some people use their innovations for evil then, that’s why the war I was in started. Evil exists in any time, in any place.”

“Weel I’m glad yer here in my arms, away from those mad bastards, and I know I can be there to fight anyone who wishes ye ill.” Her thigh began rubbing between his.

“I am too Jamie. So much.”

Laird and Lady clung tight to each other in their bed, in their home knowing they would have to leave tomorrow.

#outlander fanfiction #adsofraser writing #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #fergus fraser #canon divergence #craigh na dun #outlander fanfic

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weaver-z · 4 years

Text

Birthmark

A short horror story by B.E.

The women in my family have port-wine birthmarks, but none ever had any as strange as mine.

Not even my mother, who had one that stretched across her forehead like a bloodshot eye, the pale sclera-white of her skin visible under the glaze of reddish violet. She told me, when I was very young, that my grandmother had one, too, along the back of her head--she, unlike us, had been lucky enough to have one that could be hidden under a bonnet, though her blonde hair still revealed it in the summertime.

“Can I see the ones on the legs?” Thomas asks, chewing the inside of his cheek like a cow chewing its cud. I allow it, even though I am a girl, because Thomas and I are friends, alone in the center of a field of tall summer alfalfa. I can feel his eyes boring into the marks on me in fascination, as he moves around me to see my arms, at the marks on those.

“I like the winter best,” I say, pulling my skirt up. “Pa hates it. But I like it, because I can cover all of ‘em up with my clothes, even the ones on my arms.”

“They’re not so bad,” he says. “They’re not on your face, at least.

“Guess so.”

He sits in front of me in the clear space between the eden-green strands of the grass, looking down at the marks on my legs. They are strange, wobbling lines, not blotches or patches--the lowest two are at my knees, lines that wrap around the joint like the borders of a county.

There are two more on my upper thighs, though I don’t show Thomas those--he’s still a boy, and even though he looks at my markings with nothing but fascination, I still feel a little kernel of shame rubbing at the walls of my chest. The arms are easier to show to him--there are only two marks, just too low to be covered by my short sleeves, broad and awkward unevenly-stamped lines.

“So you’ve got more? On your back?” Thomas asks, sitting on his haunches, looking at me with intent, dust-brown eyes too large for his face.

“Yes. Almost like a corset,” I say, “like a nice corset, the kind rich ladies wear with their jewels. One on my waist, like a belt. One below my shoulders. Oh, and a line down my back, a kinda wobbly one.”

“Like the laced-up part of the corset,” he says, and I nod, happy that he understands. Most boys who live in these parts wouldn’t. He moves around me, and I sit straight, lifting my long frigid-blonde braid so that he can see the very top of the line that travels down my spine, the source of the splotchy red-and-purple river.

“You ever wish that you could have them wiped off?” He asks. “I heard that God sometimes grants big miracles if you pray for ‘em enough.”

“Maybe,” I say, doubtful. “I’ve tried it. Pa makes me pray each night, but nothing seems to work.”

“Shame about that. Real shame. Maybe God’s busy with somethin’ else--” he says, and suddenly a gunshot rings out in the distance.

He freezes, pupils dilating like a rabbit that hears a hawk, and I scramble for my boots, forcing them on over the crumbles of mud on my feet. We can both hear Pa, coming through the brush, forcing his way through it with snaps and tears and nearly inarticulate grumbling. Thomas is off like a shot, running almost on all fours as he crouches, and by the time my father reaches me, panting and huddled in the grass, my friend is nothing but a mole-trail disturbing distant strands.

Pa is a tall man--though I inherited his height, I’m only 13, and he towers over me, so broad and heavy that I am thin as grass and summer wind below him. I stand, looking up at him with a look that must look shameful, and he lowers the rifle to point at the earth, face still and steely with malice.

“I told you I didn’t want no boys ‘round,” he says, voice thick, like smoke from a bonfire. “Told you I didn’t want you foolin’ round like a little whore.”

“He didn’t do nothin’,” I say, arms wrapped around my chest. “Honest.”

“Who was it, then? And why didn’t he come see me, an’ ask if he could talk to you?” He takes my arm--not tightly, but with such strength that I couldn’t run if I tried.

“He and I met while I was out with the chickens. He was on the road going up to town.”

“Sure he was.” Pa shoves my arm away and laughs, the sound like metal clattering to a dirt floor. “Sure, the devil ‘e was. I heard him talkin’ bout your legs, girl. Didn’t hear much, but I heard that. You think you’re the pick of the meat at the market, don’t you?”

“Pa--”

“Don’t talk, pretty girl. Don’t talk, and don’t you ever try and do this again. You’re gonna pray as long as you can tonight. I want your damn tongue to fall out before you stop praying,” and he begins to move, and now the pain comes as I stumble half-backward with him, held in a vise by my arm.

“Pa, I’m sorry--”

“You ain’t sorry yet, Lu,” he says. He looks back at me, from under the shadow cast beneath his brows by the white sun overhead. “You ain’t sorry, yet.”

---

He makes me pray, that night, for hours and hours, for forgiveness, for something I never did. But the praying he makes me do that night is only meager practice for the praying I do during the winter.

Our chickens die when a coyote pack rolls through in the late days of fall, snarling and barking with a sound like mocking laughter. We salvage what corpses we can, and for a while, we eat well, but not well, because while we dine on fresh meat, the knowledge that something terrible to come hangs over us like the fog of their blood. The cattle start to go soon after, the first to a weak cover over a well (it falls in, it screams for hours), the second to a river, the third to disease, the rest tumbling like the articles like a rotting shelf soon after them.

When winter comes, we have little, so little, and my father tears into his meager dollars to buy us what we can. I am grateful to him, even as the food dries up, even as he becomes silent, frighteningly silent, staring at me above the candle that lights our dinner-table with a face like a haunting.

I am not allowed to leave the house anymore.

I only cook--clean--mend--read the scraps of old newspaper used to patch the walls of the house as best I can. I make what food he finds for dinner, if he finds any, and I give more to his portion, and he says almost nothing to me except to remind me to stay in the home, to keep house and to keep out of the snowstorms and the paths of wild things. He fixes the roof and sharpens the knives--those are the only tasks he does around the house, besides force me onto my knees beside him to beg God for something for our stomachs.

And it is in cleaning that I find the box.

It is a small box, barely as long as my forearm and as shallow as the length of my hand, and it is under his bed, dislodged from a long stay deep in the shadows beneath his cot by a storm that shook the house.

I pull it slowly from beneath--it is unpainted, made of thin wood that leaves little splinters in the flesh of my thumb-joint. I remove its lid and look inside.

My mother is there, first, as I remember her--thin, short, with a look in her eyes like the hollow of a tree, unexplainably empty. The mark is clearly visible in the photograph, as she stands next to my father, mottled and dim. Neither of them are smiling. They are younger in this photograph--it is blurry, hard to make out.

Beneath that is a scrap of newspaper that I have a hard time understanding for a moment.

Mrs. Mary J. Letts, 68; Wife and Mother

We regret to announce the death of Mrs. Letts, wife of Mr. Roger Letts and mother to Mabelle Letts, which took place last Thursday due to a tragic accident involving an injury sustained to her head while riding. She is survived by her husband and daughter.

The paper cuts off there. I don’t recognize the name of Letts, and the paper is old; I continue reading as I find another scrap.

Mrs. Mabelle Dawson, 36; Wife and Mother

We regret to announce the death of Mrs. Dawson, who is survived by her husband, Mr. Arnold Dawson, and her young daughter, Lucy Dawson. Their family has our greatest sympathies. She was killed accidentally as she was cleaning a weapon owned by Mr. Arnold Dawson, who claims deepest regret that

I feel my mouth run dry and my pulse hammer against my skin like stone against a drum. That is my mother’s name--that is my name, too, faint against the paper. I don’t understand why these things are in the box, among other pictures and portraits of my mother, and, unmistakably, my mother’s mother, whose mark is just visible in one small portrait of her, clearly done by an amateur hand. I can imagine how it stretched across the back of her head, branching along her skull--I can see my own mother’s mark, clearly, in the center of her forehead.

I feel cold as the wooden floor under my feet as my eyes trace the border of the mark on her forehead for the first time.

“Lu?” my father calls, from downstairs. “Lucy? Lu-cy?”

The starburst on her forehead is strangely jagged. Unsteady. The shape that a bullet hole would make, if someone were shot close in the head. An accident while cleaning a gun. A trauma to the back of the skull. I hear a footstep on the stairs, almost hesitant, its weight barely masked by the slowness with which my father places it down.

“Lucy?” he says. “I prayed to God for a miracle, and he told me what we ought to do. I need to see you, now.”

I can’t breathe. My throat is choked by a snare as I throw myself back, scrambling across the floor and away from the box. My skirt flies up--my legs are exposed, the lines on them obvious in their purpose.

Summers ago, I went to the village with Pa, and we went to a stall hung with pig carcasses. There, there was a picture of a sow, her legs and sides and ribs marked with uneven lines where the different cuts of meat came from. Here was the thigh--here was the shank--here was the cut you made along the spine and the stomach.

I hear a slow, low rumble of creaking wood as he stops outside the door.

“Lucy?” he says, his voice more paternal than I have ever heard it, and I begin to cry--begin to pray to anything, anyone that will listen, pray that something else kills me before he enters, and nothing does.

And the door opens--slowly, too slowly, as though I’ve had a nightmare and he’s coming to check on me like a good father should--and he sees me with the box, with the tears flowing down my face, with my chest heaving in great stops and starts.

He takes a step forward. In his hands, he holds a sharpened butcher’s knife.

#horror #short story #writing #creepy #abuse tw #FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

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taehoneycheeks · 3 years

Text

Storms don't last forever

"After having a bad day, you relish in the arms of your boyfriend. But as he is, his ways of comforting are also unique. Not that you are complaining."

Pairing : Hoseok × reader

Genre : Fluff 💫

Note : relationship!AU

Wordcount : 1.8k

Warning : Deals with emotions like sadness and frustration. Harmless straddling. Kissing. Pg_13

Credit : @taehoneycheeks ��️

It was one of those days. One of those shitty days when everything went wrong for some reason. You were walking down the street with a fussy mind and as if your day couldn't get any better, it started raining due to which you had to wait under a bus stand for the rain to stop. After half an hour, the rain stopped pouring. Your home was still a few blocks away and luckily you didn't even got a taxi this time so you had to walk all the way from your office to your home.

Suddenly your ankle shifted and you accidentally stepped in a puddle on the road. Your shoes were covered in mud now which made your heart drop. A pit was already formed in your stomach. Your throat was now heavy with a bile slowly taking its form in it. You were trying to keep all your emotions at bay but truthfully they were all over your head. Sadness, failure, resentment were all you could think of. All you wanted to do was to go home and rest in the arms of your boyfriend's and forget about all your worries.

While you were deep in your thoughts, you didn't even realized that you were walking towards the threshold of your home. Crossing the threshold, you reached for the handle of your door and sucked in a deep breath hoping it would keep the dam of your emotions stable. Hoping it would dissolve the bile in your throat. Slowly you opened the door. Removing your shoes, you entered the living room.

"Babe! Is it you?" Hoseok asked from the bedroom. His voice ringing in your head. Suddenly, the bile in your throat too heavy, making it difficult for you to breath. But then again you didn't wanted to sadden him with your foolish reasons so you took a deep breath and made your voice as cheery as you could and said-

"Yeah its me!" you said but regretted it as your voice cracked at the last word. After a minute or so you heard soft thud of footsteps coming down the stairs. You mentally prepared yourself to not waver. To not show him that you just want to hide yourself in his arms. You wanted to be strong for him.

Then you saw him. He was wearing his blue mang pajamas and looked like he just removed his face mask because of the extra shine on his cheeks. But what caught your attention the most was his smile. He was smiling brightly, showing his pearl white teeth, forming his eyes in a cresent shape. He was happy to see you. Happy to see you back. Happy to see you safe, and that made your heart sore. You tried, really tried to hide your tears but just the sight of Hoseok was enough for you.

That dam of emotions burst and so did your tears. Heavy droplets streamed across your cheeks. You buried your face in your hands. Your knees started to buckle. All your emotions were flowing from your eyes.

Hoseok immediately reacted and buried your face in his chest. His one hand coming to rest on your lower back - by habit - while the other was stroking your head gently.

"Jagi....what happened?" he sounded worried, exactly what you were trying to avoid, but you couldn't help it. The emotions overwhelmed you and you just wanted to let it all out. As if reading your mind Hoseok picked you up, your legs locking around his waist, and lead you through the room and sat on the sofa.

He didn't seem to mind your clothes or your smell. He just cradled you like a baby while you were straddling him and sobbing on his shoulder. You hid your face in the crook of his neck, savoring his smell. He smelled like cherry, just like his face mask.

Your eyes were stinging at this point. Your head was throbbing and your nose was stuffy. Your throat was sore but you just had too much on your mind and couldn't keep up. You felt really tired and your eyes felt like they weight thousand tons so you lazily closed them for a while.

"Baby.." you heard him and then felt a soft hand on your head slowly motioning you to move. You didn't knew when you fell asleep, must be because of the soft touch or the warmth or the fact that you cried your heart out. You removed your head from his neck and slowly opened you eyes locking them with Hoseok's and saw that he was sick worried.

"What happened?" he asked again "Did someone said something to you?" he questioned and you stirred your head in a yes gesture. "Who was it?" his voice was calm, probably to not make you uncomfortable, but anger clearly reflected from his eyes.

"It was my fault. Everything is my fault." you stated, your words cracking because of your sore throat.

"I just had a really shitty day. Today I forgot my company batch at home due to which I had to wait half an hour outside then when I sat on my desk, my knee hit the table" you said showing him your bruised knee and heard him gasp

"Let me get some ice for you!" he exclaimed but you cut him and said "No, please.." trailing off.

"Okay then tell me everything that's worrying you" he said and you continued, thankful to him.

"After that I got scolded because I couldn't submit the work on due time. The HR said that I wasn't cut for the job and if it happens again he would fire me and then I stubbed my toe while exiting the office and then when I was returning from the office, I couldn't get any taxi and then it started to rain then I had to stand under a bus stand and my clothes got wet because of it and then when I was 2 blocks away I accidentally slipped in a puddle and my favorite shoes got dirty" you cried and saw that Hoseok was listening to your every word, even when you knew your reasons were silly, you still felt bad.

He caressed your head delicately "It's okay. It's all okay. Everyone has bad days. Its good to let it out." he said hugging you closer to him.

"I feel like a loser right now" you stated,

"No you are not. It's just one bad day, don't beat yourself up for that" he said but you just snuggled closer.

After a while of comfortable silence, Hoseok said "Can I take you out?" he asked,

"what?" you questioned, amused.

"For a drive? Get away from the usual routine" he said.

"But it's quite late and you have already changed into your pajamas and-" you were cut short when he joined his lips to your, slowly caressing your lips. His hand reached out to your face, brushing his fingertips against your jawline. You lost yourself to him. Just what you wanted to do. His kisses were always intoxicating. He gently moved away from the kiss.

"We are going for a drive" he stated, confirmed, and that was final. No questioning after that. "Okay" is all you said.

"Let's get you changed into some comfortable clothes first and then we'll go" he said, withdrawing you from his lap and taking you to your bedroom where both of you changed your clothes. After that both you exited your home, locking the door behind.

Hoseok went first and opened the car door for you and you gave him a shy smile which made him chuckle then he sat on the driver's seat and you both were off to go.

First you both went through McDonald's drive thru and order 2 burgers, 2 large fries, 1 coca cola and 1 sprite and then you both went straight on the highway.

You were still feeling bitter and didn't wanted to talk. He knew what was going in your mind as he connected the music system to his phone and started playing up all night

Take me 'round the world and back again

As I am searching for my soul out there.

Oh, there's something that I'm wondering

Where I'm going when my story ends.

You really liked the song. After taking a long sip from your drink, you started humming it.

"Hey, open the window" Hoseok said coolly and you rolled out the window.

Chilled air filled the car. It smelled like moist soil because of the rain which calmed you. The sky was spotted with small bright stars and a half moon. You gradually started to sing the song. Your voice barely audible above the air and the blast of the music yet Hoseok joined you. As the song reached it crescendo both of your voices raised an octave higher.

Song after song, you both were singing. Adrenaline running high. Didn't even caring if anyone heard you, if you were tired, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now because of Hoseok.

He did this for you. He made sure you were happy. He made sure you were comfortable. You couldn't help yourself but marvel him as he was still singing each line of the song perfectly.

"What?" he asked suddenly looking towards you "Nothing...I just love you so much" you stated which made him flush in his seat. You started laughing at his cuteness. Your laughter and his giggles filled up the car. You didn't knew how much time went by and honestly you didn't cared at this point. All the fried food and sugary carbonated drinks adding up to your energy.

After finishing the burgers and drinks and screaming at the top of your lungs for another 24 songs you finally saw a similar road leading to your driveway.

"Do we have to go back!" you whined and heard him chuckle "Jagi, are you forgetting something?" he asked but you couldn't remember anything so you shook your head in a no gesture

"Tomorrow is Saturday!" he replied excitedly. Tomorrow is Saturday which means no work. You can cuddle all day and no one will disturb you at all. Only the thought of next day was enought to emit a squeak from you and Hoseok laughed again.

You both exited the car and entered your home. You were really tired and suddenly felt all your energy drain out from you.

"I am tired." you pouted and he said "Baby it's 3:30 in the morning. Of course you will be tired." you hadn't even noticed it was this late.

You both went to your bedroom and crept under the covers. As you both were already wearing comfy clothes you didn't find any need to change. Your leg went up to his waist as his hands went to secure around your waist. His warmth and tenderness were too comfortable and you couldn't help but to relish in the feeling of being safe in your boyfriend's arms. You slowly closed your eyes and said-

"I love you Hobi" and he replied "I love you too y/n."

A/n : Heya! How are you guys doing? I was a little unwell due to my sinuses 😅. I did used a new header this time. I don't remember, but I saw a header like this on some other fic and I wanted to try making my own. Hope you guys have enjoyed this work! Please ignore any typos or mistakes (I am still learning). Feedback and suggestions are always welcome 😊.

P.s. The song used in this fic is 'Up all night' by Khalid.

#bts #bangtan #bts army #bts hoesok #bts jhope #bts fluff #jhope fluff #jhope × reader #jhope

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