#Got very lazy on the fabric and arms but eh

[starsketchez]

aanyways have one smug-ish looking Moon

#Star's Sketches #Honestly I wanted to practice expressions #But then some of the page turned into notes while I read WWITS #So then I completely paused on drawing Moon #Got very lazy on the fabric and arms but eh #fnaf Moon #fnaf moondrop #fnaf sb moon #fnaf sb moondrop #daycare attendant #daycare attendant moon #Moondrop #Distant screaming. Xugekgdtuejgdtidyidit

[duskholland]

Warm | Tom Holland Smut

warnings ↠ nsfw, 18+ ! this is just some very loving c*ckwarming with sleepy boyfriend tom, ft unprotected sex and oral (fem receiving)

word count ↠ a wholesome 3k

a/n ↠ got inspired by the ig live yesterday and whipped up a lil something to satisfy the devil in me. let me know what you think!

The material of Tom’s hoodie is soft against your cheek, and as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, it feels as though the weight of the world is rolling from your shoulders. His hands are on your waist, tucked beneath the hem of your t-shirt and resting gently over the curves of your hips. As you hum against his shoulder, you feel him shift his fingers, tracing delicate, circular patterns over your skin. 

“Your hoodie is so soft,” you mumble against him, punctuating the words with a few soft kisses to the base of his neck. Tom squeezes your sides, bringing his lips to the top of your head where he leaves a lingering kiss to your hairline. “Wish we could stay like this forever.”

One of his hands moves away from your waist, drifting up to cup the back of your head. As Tom’s nimble fingers rest over your hair, he uses his other arm to pull you closer. It’s a lazy Sunday morning, both of you tangled up in sweats and comfy clothes, and the feeling of his warm body pressed against yours makes you sigh contentedly. 

“We can stay like this all day?” Tom offers. He slowly strokes over the back of your head, the gesture full of a gentle tenderness you’d missed. He’s been so busy recently, with filming and press engagements, that it’s been a while since you’ve had time to exist like this. Two people, curled up together, wrapped up in dizzying love. “Missed you so much this week, darling.”

You smile against his neck and finally pull back so you can look at him properly. You’re resting over Tom’s thighs, straddling his green sweats comfortably, and your position gives you the perfect opportunity to get a lovely, long look at your boyfriend’s face. With his pink hood drawn up around his head, you can make out a few strands of his brown hair, long and a little shiny, and you find your fingers drawn towards them. You reach up, smiling at his tut of disapproval as you gently knock the hood down, revealing his bed of messy, chestnut curls.

“Missed you too,” you finally reply, carding a hand through his hair. With your other fingers, you reach out to cup his cheek, grinning as he presses his face into your palm. Tom’s got his eyes wide and flooded with gentle love, and it makes you melt. This man has you wrapped around his little finger. “Missed a lot of things about you, actually.”

“Yeah?” Tom’s lips quirk into a lazy smirk as he draws you a little nearer. He smells faintly of cologne. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know…” As you muse, you let your index finger wander down the bridge of his nose, tracing over the light freckles. “Missed hearing your lovely voice. It always sounds so raspy in the morning like this.” You lean in to press a quick kiss to his jaw. “And I missed your hugs. God, Tom, you give the best hugs.” As if to prove your point, Tom tightens his grip around you. “Missed your lips, too.”

“Oh, you did, did you?” He’s got that cheeky glint in his eyes, and you nod your head immediately. “I think they missed you too, love. Why don’t you pay them a visit?”

The snort that leaves your mouth is a loud burst of twisted sound, but it makes Tom’s smile grow wider. You wind both arms around his neck and shuffle closer, finally bridging the distance and nuzzling your mouth against his. 

Kissing Tom has to be one of your favourite things ever. The way your lips meld together, dancing in sync as he presses against you with eager force always makes your heart race, no matter how long you’ve been together. His lips are warm and gentle, and as they meet with yours in a lazy exploration of mutual enjoyment, you find yourself melting against him. His hands are back on your hips, and they roam the expanse of your naked back as his tongue flicks into your mouth, causing you to groan softly. When he drags his fingers up and discovers your lack of bra, he’s quick to shift his palms around to the front of your body, holding the curves of your breasts in each hand.

“I bloody love you,” he murmurs, speaking against your lips. The pads of his thumbs brush over your nipples and you gasp into his mouth, careening further into his touch. “You’re the most beautiful woman on the planet, lovie.” 

You kiss him with a little more intensity, your heart fluttering in response to his sweet, sweet sentiment. It’s early - the both of you had only woken up a half-hour ago - so Tom’s voice is strained and raspy. The sound of his husky tones brings a thrill of excitement to the heat between your legs. 

As his tongue explores your mouth and your fingers tangle in his hair, you become aware of a building pressure pushing up against your sweats. You start to grind down against him, enjoying both the friction it provides to your clit and also the way the movement draws deep, desperate whines from Tom. 

“You wanna know a secret?” You ask him, pulling away to pant in his ear. When Tom hums, you kiss his earlobe. “Think I might’ve missed your cock, too.”

His chuckle rumbles into the air. “Is that so?” Tom’s hands slip away from your chest, and they anchor down your hips. You hum as he guides you, pushing you further against his crotch as your centres meet. You can feel the outline of his length straining up against you, and the sensation makes you grin. “I’ve missed being inside your tight little pussy.” He leaves a kiss just behind your ear, right over a patch of sensitive skin. “Maybe we should do something about that?”

You almost whine as you nod, eagerly reaching down to release the drawstrings of his sweats. In return, Tom pulls free your own, and there’s a moment of shuffling around as you sit up and carefully wriggle out of both your trousers and your panties, Tom bundling them up and folding them into a neat pile beside him. Once you’re settled, you reach beneath the waistband of Tom’s sweats and pull his full member free, all whilst his hot lips trail up and down the column of your neck. 

There’s no burning desperation to your movements as you slowly work one another up. Rather, it’s gentle. Soft caresses, tender lips, whispered words of praise. You’re kissing him as you slowly slide your hand up and down his shaft, and he’s swallowing your moans with his tongue when two of his fingers slip into your slick pussy and work you open. It’s loving and familiar as he crooks his fingertips and nudges up against your g-spot, stimulating your passage until you’re bucking down against him, your movements distracted as your cunt drips for him.

“Need you inside me,” you moan out, a slight pull to your voice. You whimper as Tom’s hot fingers slip out from inside you, and then gasp when he uses his wet fingertips to rub over your clit. The bud pulses and you almost lose it, but a panging in your cunt reminds you of your overwhelming desire to have him inside you. “Tom,” you whine, skimming your thumb over his weepy tip, “Stop teasing.”

Tom growls into your ear, but he reluctantly moves his fingers away from you. He meets your eyes as he very purposefully brings his hand to his mouth and makes a show of licking his digits clean, moaning softly as he does it. 

“Delicious,” he decides. When you throw him a light scowl, he grabs you by the hips and brings you nearer. “Now,” he says, dropping his voice. His hand joins yours on his cock, and together you guide his head through your slit. You let Tom do the hard work, whimpering quietly as he lines his tip with your entrance. “How about we take care of this little problem, eh?”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you slowly, slowly lower yourself over him, tossing your head back as you adjust to the stretch. Tom’s lips move over your neck, sucking a soft hickey to your skin, anchoring you down. The sensation of his member settling deep inside you after so long makes you grab fistfuls of his hoodie, your knuckles tightening around it as you gasp softly.

“Fuck,” you murmur, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You’re fully seated now, and you can feel every ridge and line of his cock pushed up against your walls, as if in high definition. Everything is amplified, and the longer you sit there wrapped up in his arms and with his lips now dusting over your temple, the closer to Tom you feel. “I love you,” you whimper, voice breathless.

Tom runs his hands over your back, soothing you with large circles of his palms. “Love you too, darling,” he mumbles. He shifts a little on the sofa, and you moan as the head of his cock brushes deeper. “Feel so warm ‘n snug around me.”

You feel yourself clench at his words, and make a very conscious decision to loosen up. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, you pull yourself away from the crook of Tom’s neck, pouting a little as the soft fabric of his hoodie leaves your face.

“Do you want to stay like this for a little bit?” You ask, eyes skimming his beautiful face. Your heart fills with appreciation for the man as you pick up all the small details that make him so attractive to you: the worn curves of his nose, the splattering of sun-kissed freckles over his cheeks, the ruffled hairs of his eyebrow. Your thumb absently moves up to his eyebrow and you draw your touch across it, feeling the soft hairs with your finger and sighing as you admire him. 

“How long?”

You crane your neck back, glancing briefly at the paused TV. “‘Til the end of the show? Should be about ten minutes.” You move your hand into his hair, feeling the silky strands fall past your fingers. “Just wanna feel close to you.”

Tom presses his lips to the tip of your nose, drawing a loose giggle from you. “Alright,” he agrees. He drops his voice as he shifts his mouth back to your ear, hot breath flushing over your neck as he adds, quieter, “I’m going to wreck you afterwards, though.”

A shiver passes through you, and your hum mixes with the sounds of the TV as Tom immediately unpauses the programme. You can’t see the screen from where you’re sitting, but you turn down Tom’s offer to reposition. The show is the last thing on your mind, and you’re glad you’re not distracted by it. 

For you, there’s nothing more fulfilling than hiding your face into your boyfriend’s shoulder and feeling him everywhere. Hands on your sides, caressing you and drawing you closer. His lips softly passing over the top of your head. His length, plugging you up to the hilt. Each time one of you shifts, you release a quiet whimper as arcs of pleasure roll up your spine, and when you clench in response, Tom grunts. There’s something so easily private about it: no end goal but just to enjoy one another, and spend this quiet moment holed up in each other’s arms. 

You’ve never felt this loved before, and it brings a lump to your throat.

“You okay?” Tom asks, shifting a hand to hold the back of your head. You hum, tilting your face to the side so you can kiss the point behind his ear.

“Yeah. Just really love you.”

His eyes flicker down to meet yours, flooding with concern when he notes the tears spread thinly over your eyes. “You’re so precious,” he lilts, his accent twanging prominently. He brings you nearer, kissing your forehead in several spots. “I’m going to marry you one day.”

You kiss him, letting your hand travel up to rest against his cheek. “Good,” you whisper against him. There’s a dizzying moment where you just look at him, his eyes mirroring yours, flooded deep with gratitude that rocks you to your bones. You feel safe wrapped up in his arms, and as the music for the credits drifts through the air, you find yourself exhaling. “Show’s over.”

“Lay down for me, love.” 

You whimper when you feel his length slide from you, your cunt feeling cold and empty without him, but he kisses at your pout until it fades away. Tom follows you down onto the couch cushions, caging you in with an arm either side your head. After a moment, you feel his cock sliding through your slit again, pressing up against your clit in a way that makes you moan. 

“I can taste myself on your tongue,” you admit, pulling away from a deep kiss with a perplexed expression on your face. 

“Fucking lovely, isn’t it?” Tom gains a rather mischievous look on his face. “Actually…” 

He pulls away before you can grab him to stay, and Tom slips down between your legs with a cheeky smirk on his lips. 

“Tom,” you whine, scrunching your nose. “I want you.”

“In a minute.” He presses your knees apart and leaves a soft kiss to the inside of one of your thighs. “Patience, my darling girl.”

You try your best to look unimpressed, but it’s very difficult to maintain the rouse as he draws his tongue through your slit. You reach down to grip at his hair, pulling him closer as he trails his mouth all over you. He moans straight against your sopping folds, teasing your clit with his tongue as he slides two fingers back into you, exploring your wet heat eagerly.

“Tom,” you cry out, your back arching off the sofa. His free hand immediately goes to your side, pushing you back down and keeping you in place as his mouth explores you. Noises of your wet arousal fill the air as he sucks over your clit, teasing you, edging you until you’re whimpering. “C’mon, Tom, don’t wanna cum like this. Need to be full of you.”

When he pulls back, Tom runs the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping away the shine of your slick and his spit combined. He cracks a smile when he takes in the fucked-out expression on your face, pulling up until he’s hovering above you once more. One of his hands caresses your leg before loosely opening it up, and the other rests over your hair near your head. He kisses you softly.

“Are you ready?” He asks. 

“Yes,” you whimper, pressing down against him to prove your point. Your voice twists into a gasp as Tom slips into you, the movement easy and slick. Your fingers grip at the back of his hoodie as he rocks against you, your cunt squeezing around him as you take him wholly. “Shit.”

Tom nips at your necks, strands of his hair rubbing up against your hot skin. “So fucking perfect,” he murmurs. He pulls out before fucking back into you with a deep, slow thrust. “Fuck, you’re such an angel.” He leaves another kiss to your neck as he gradually quickens his pace. “My angel, aren’t you?”

You pull him back up, meeting his mouth in response. As you kiss him, his hand on your thigh shifts up and intertwines with one of yours, your fingers tangling as the rest of your bodies do, too. You’re grateful for the contact - keeping you anchored together like an emotional tether, a constant reminder of your love. 

Everything about the moment feels so intimate, his pace slow but still fulfilling. Each time Tom thrusts his hips to meet yours, you feel him in you deep, nudging against those spots only he could reach. Each rut presses you one step closer to heaven, and your praises come out garbled, dissolving into his mouth as his lips caress you, tender and warm. 

Tom pulls away after minutes of deep kissing to stare at you, brown eyes full of warmth. “I’m so lucky,” he stammers out, voice strained. You widen your leg, granting him easier access, and both of you groan as the position lets him in deeper. You can feel that telltale warmth building in the pit of your stomach. “Love of my life, you are. You and your- fuck, your perfect little pussy.” His cheeks are red as he kisses your jaw. “Can’t wait to fuck you for the rest of my life, love.”

His words ignite something inside you that goes much deeper than superficial pleasure, and you find yourself clinging to him, gripping his hand with renewed strength as your other twists down between your bodies. Your fingertips connect with your clit, and you glide them over the bud, moaning louder as you feel your orgasm jerk closer.

“Cum in me,” you find yourself saying, eyes trained on the spot between your legs where Tom’s cock meets with your cunt. “Wanna feel you fill me up.” 

His head finds the crook of your neck, sweaty forehead pushing up against your skin as he grunts. “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“It’s okay.” You squeeze his hand as you gasp for breath. “I’m close.”

Tom peaks a few moments later, and the action of his guttural groans spilling into the air coupled with the way his cock pulses as he empties his load inside you makes you spasm over the edge too. You whimper as you orgasm, a throbbing warmth spreading across you as Tom kisses your neck over and over, his fingers gripping yours tightly as you enjoy the high together, basking in it. Your mouth hangs half-open as you vocalise your climax, your body on fire as he fucks you through it, the moment spanning a short infinity.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, finally stilling. He stays nudged up inside you as he sits up, supporting his weight on his arms, your hands still joined. Tom kisses you passionately, and you feel him smile against your lips as you kiss him back. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

You bring your free hand up to his head, pushing his hair out from his face as you cup his cheek, looking into his captivating brown eyes. You look at him, and you know that there’s no safer vessel for your heart. You know he’s the love of your life. 

“Love you too,” you say, pausing to kiss him between each word. By the end, both of you are smiling. “You know you’re still in me, yeah?”

Tom chuckles, nodding. “Yeah.” He kisses your nose. “You’re warm.”

-

------

yeah you could say im soft for hoodie!tom...

masterlist linked in bio !

please let me know if you’ve got any thoughts :D askbox is always open; feel free to rb/comment (pls)

stay safe my lovely pals <3

#keyword tonight is: soft #can you tell i missed tom...? lmao #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland #my writing #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #smut

[parvulous-writings]

Not so Wyld morning // Bill S Preston + Ted Logan x M!Reader

Request:     can you write a fluff oneshot with bill (s preston) x ted logan x m! reader with like. a sleepy morning between the three?

Requested by: @mlmpunisher​

Summary: Starts off as the request, and then goes off on a trip to the Circle K. I may or may not have gotten carried away. 

Warnings: a brief joke about kidnapping/death.

Words: 3.5K

Notes:  I’ve been waiting for an idea/request for these two. They’re my comfort idiots. My love for them... Let’s just say I watch the movies a fair amount, eh? My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif 

You, Bill and Ted were spread rather haphazardly over Bill’s bed. Legs crossed over one another, hands on chests or in faces. You were all tangled together, not that any of you really cared about that at that moment.  You had all fallen asleep during a study session- you had been desperately trying to tutor your boyfriends Bill and Ted, so that they didn’t fail their history class and completely flunk out of school- mostly because Ted’s father, Captain Logan, was threatening to send the taller boy away to an Alaskan military school to whip him into shape should he fail the semester. That was now an all too real threat to the three of you, none of you wanted to get pulled apart from one another. You had been trying to quiz them on the philosophies of the great Athenian thinker Socrates (whom both young men insisted on pronouncing So-Crates no matter how many times you corrected them) when you passed out one by one. First Ted- who was up against the headboard, and whose head had slumped forward when you had gotten onto the fifth or sixth question. Then Bill, draped over Ted’s legs, after leaning back to protest about how the quiz was starting to become “A total drag,” around the tenth question. He had promptly passed out whilst you were telling him it was for their own good- you weren’t all that surprised when you were interrupted by a rather loud snore coming from the curly-haired Bill.You hadn’t bothered to try and wake either of them- not only would they both be rather irritable if you woke them up too early, but it was nearly one o’clock in the morning at that point, so you figured that perhaps they were both subconsciously onto something.  You had taken the range and array of textbooks off of the bed, creating a little more space for you to somehow work yourself between them and get more comfortable to get some sleep of your own. After some shuffling, and a few murmurs from both Bill and Ted, you had found the perfect position, where you had promptly fallen asleep with them.

You were the first to wake up. Ted had taken your arm in both of his in your sleep, cuddling it as if it were a teddy bear. Bill’s legs had somehow tangled with yours, and he had ended up nuzzled into the side of your chest, not that you minded all that much. Though Ted was the more affectionate of your boyfriends in public, Bill could be just as affectionate as him in private. You tried not to move at first, not wanting to disturb them- they could both be as bad as each other when it came to being woken up too early (too early was counted as anything before they woke up by themselves). So, for what you had gauged to be about twenty minutes or so, you just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. There were no thoughts of any importance that drifted through your mind at this point, not until you had finally grown restless enough to carefully push yourself up onto one elbow to check the time on Bill’s alarm clock- which he rarely actually used as anything more than just a normal clock. It had just gone half past ten, and you felt your eyes go wide- that was much later than you had anticipated. Thankfully it was a weekend, though briefly your brain had tricked itself into thinking it was mid-week, causing even more of a jolt in your chest. You would have to get up soon to make your way back home; it was bad enough that you had spent the night out without letting your parents know that you’d be out past eleven o’clock. Every moment past nine in the morning that you spent away from them, the angrier they would get with you.  With this thought in mind you tried to push yourself up a little bit more, fully prepared to undertake the rather massive task of trying to begrudgingly untangle yourself from the two men you held dear, but you were quickly brought back down again by an unseen hand. Your head landed on Ted’s stomach, and you glanced over to him, seeing him peering back at you through tired eyes and a rather messy head of hair. He gave you a rather dopey smile, and you realised he was the one to pull you back; mostly prompted by the fact that Bill was giving another round of freight-train like snores. Ted’s head fell back again when you didn’t struggle against his protests of getting out of bed, and he gave a yawn before beginning to speak. “Morning, chief.” He mumbled, voice still raspy with the last dregs of sleep his body was trying to cling onto.  “I don’t get why you call me that.” You replied in a whisper, trying not to wake Bill. “Surely I should be the one calling you that- given your dad’s job and everything...”  “Eh,” Was Ted’s simple reply, accompanied with a rather lazy shrug. It was about a minute before the only other boy awake in the room started to speak again. “I mean, it does kind of suit you, doesn’t it? You keep me and Bill in order...” He prompted, glancing over to you with that same goofy smile, before his gaze moved back to the ceiling.  “For the most part, I guess.” You smiled back at him, taking his hand and draping his arm across you, so you could play absently with his fingers. Ted never minded that. 

The pair of you fell into a comfortable silence, which was disturbed only briefly, and rather inconsistently, by Bill’s snores. You weren’t sure how long you laid there for this time, but the rather delightful monotonous repetition was ultimately interrupted by a quiet groan of protest from the blonde haired boy at the end of the bed. He rolled onto his front, trying to cover his eyes- he had fallen asleep rather inconveniently where the light peaked through the blinds in the early morning. “Someone close the blinds,” He complained, trying to turn away from them but ultimately failing.  “Bill...” You chuckled lightly, nudging him to get his attention. “They are closed. The light is coming through the gap.” Your words were only met with a groan from Bill, and a stifled laugh from Ted.  “You should get it fixed, dude.” The taller boy jested, nudging the boy again, and Bill responded with a half-hearted swipe at Ted’s foot.  “Shut up, Ted.” Of course, he didn’t mean this in an inherently horrid way, despite his gruff tone. He loved both you and Ted deeply, more than he could love anything else- or at least that was what he thought. Ted thought very much the same thing- though that was no surprise. More often than not, it was like the two shared the exact same brain. If they were not thinking of the exact same plan down to the detail when it came to schemes, they were at the very least agreed on the end result. Most of the time this wasn’t too much of a problem for you- usually you were at the butt end of whatever shenanigan they were plotting- but there were times when you did get a little bit overwhelmed by the pair of them. More often than not, the times where you got overwhelmed involved a very particular phone-booth, with some rather unique properties. Unless you were in it’s presence you tried not to think about it- the amount of times you had been put through mind-bending situations already made your head spin to even consider again. They’d predict something, it would happen immediately after said prediction, then they would turn to one another and proclaim a quick “Excellent!” before reminding one another that they would need to remember that later. You were still a little bit confused by it- especially when they sprung something random on you-but you thought you were slowly starting to understand, even though the concept of time travel didn’t seem quite real. 

You broke your train of thought upon feeling a sudden weight on your chest. Though you wanted to crane your neck to see who it was, you didn’t really need to, you knew it was Bill. You did it anyway- your eyes being met with the golden curls of Bill’s hair. “Bill, love, I’m going to have to get up soon.” You warned him, as your movement would definitely affect him more than Ted.  “No.” He replied simply. From his tone, you could tell he didn’t overly want to debate it.  “But I stayed over without letting my parents-”  “You’re fine, you’re safe, what do they have to complain about?” He grumbled, shuffling so that his chin was on your stomach, his arms wrapped around your middle. His deep green eyes met yours, before flitting briefly to Ted, giving you both a smile. “C’mon, dude. It won’t hurt to have a little longer with us, right?” He asked, and you moved your hand to quickly brush a stray curl from his brow.  “Maybe he should go soon- like, just to check in.” Ted piped up, ever in your corner. “Cause you know what happens if he gets in trouble. He won’t get to see us for like... A week. That is most heinous, and you know it.” At this rather right line of reasoning, Bill groaned, burying his face into the fabric of your shirt.  “Shut up, Ted.” This was quite muffled, and of course still not completely serious. You laughed softly, “Okay- what about this? One hour. Like this.Then, we can ask Missy to drive us back to my place, and I can let my parents know I’m fine, and you two haven’t like... Murdered me, or something.” You joked, and you can feel Ted nod enthusiastically underneath you.  “Yeah, that’s a good idea!” He agreed, and you could hear the smile that was in no doubt plastered onto his face. “Then we can all head down to the Circle K afterwards, right?”  “Sure we can, Ted.” You agreed, reaching up behind you to clumsily pat his cheek.  “Only if he isn’t in trouble, remember?” Bill pitched in, shuffling to get comfortable again. “What about half an hour? If we want to head to Circle K, obviously.” You all consider this new plan for a moment, before each of you gave a curt nod, in unison. 

So there you all stayed- you nearly even fell asleep again before you felt Bill roll off of you. He then took your arm and helped you up, and Ted quickly rolled off of the bed to grab his sneakers. Bill chucked yours at you, before going to get his shoes as well. Ted was the first downstairs- “Hey, Missy?” He called out, and he was quickly met with the young woman’s reply.  “Yeah? What’s up, Ted?” She asked, giving a warm smile.  “We were hoping that you could drive us to (Y/N)’s house?” He asked, briefly wringing his hands, as he eagerly awaited her response.  “Sure thing!” She nodded cheerily, “Let me just finish making these drinks, and I’ll be right with you. You guys go out to the car.” She nodded over to the door leading to the garage. As you and Bill started down the stairs, Ted eagerly gestured for you both to follow him.  It didn’t take Missy very long to finish making the drinks she was preparing, and you all piled into the car. “So- did you all sleep well?” The blonde woman asked, glancing back at you and Bill in the back of the car- Ted had a fascination with sitting in the front seat. Ted and Bill nodded individually; you were the one to verbally reply.  “Yeah, I think we all got a fairly good night sleep.” You give an almost awkward smile. Though, at one point, both of your boyfriends had had some form of crush on her- despite her being quite a few years older than all of you- you hadn’t entirely understood why. You never really mentioned it though.  “Good to hear,” She replied, still wearing that joyful smile. “Hey, Bill- you might need to use the spare key today, the one behind the plant, if you’re staying out late with the boys.” She took a turning as she spoke, keeping her eyes on the road. “Me and your dad are going out for dinner tonight.”  “Okay, Missy- I mean, mom.” Bill replied, quickly correcting himself on his mistake. “Just stop on the corner here,” He told her, gesturing to the side of the road a five minute walk from your house.  “Are you sure?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder as she spoke. “I can take you all the way, if you-”  “No, it’s alright, thanks, Missy.” You interrupt quickly, leaning forward. “Here is fine.” She shrugged, but begrudgingly pulled over. 

“Thanks, Missy!” Ted called after the now fleeting car, giving a wave as well, before jogging to catch up with you and Bill, who had already started to cross the road to get to your street. “I’ll quickly grab some money whilst we’re there,” You told the pair of them, and they nodded.  “I was thinking we could get some slushies.” Ted suggested, giving a wide smile.  “Blue and red?” Bill added, giving a smile of his own, and Ted nodded energetically.  “Our tongues’ll end up as purple, you two know that, right?” You teased with a grin, glancing over your shoulder as Bill laughed heartily. It took Ted a moment longer to get the joke, but he started laughing even harder than Bill when it clicked with him.  “Oh well,” Bill shrugged, a rather mischievous smile. You fell into silence again as you jogged up your driveway, almost wrenching open the door and calling out a hasty “Hey!” to announce your presence to the household and those within it. You quickly made your way to your room, as Bill and Ted quietly entered your home after you, choosing to stay in the hallway- even though they had visited and stayed over at your house many times before. They were both silently hoping that they were making their will to leave relatively soon clear. Your father came into the living room, glancing to the two boys standing awkwardly in the hallway. “Bill, Ted.” He greeted, calmly. Bill mouthed a silent ‘Hi’, whilst Ted just waved. Neither of them wanted to anger your parents- Ted, because he knew how authority figures could be, he’d had experience with his own father, and Bill just didn’t want you to be punished and kept away from them. You came back through as quickly as you could, palming some of your loose change in your hand, making sure you would have enough for a slushie for yourself, and for your boyfriends if they hadn’t brought any money with them- which was more than likely.  “Going out again?” Your father asked you, wanting to make some sort of conversation. You nodded, glancing to him and giving a smile.  “Yeah, heading out to Circle K with Bill and Ted.” You told him. He was a lot more relaxed with the rules than your mother- whom you currently assumed to be out for lunch with one of her friends.  “Did your study session go well, then?”  “Yeah- we went over Socrates again. We all passed out- that’s why I didn’t come home or call last night.” Your father laughed gently, he understood.  “I figured as much. Your mother was saying that you could have been kidnapped- but I kept saying you’re a smart kid, you’d know what to do if that were a risk. Plus, I don’t think there’s anyone in San Dimas who would want to kidnap you.”  “Even if they did want to steal him away, we’d take whoever it is on,” Bill stated, confidently- nudging Ted.  “Yeah, we would!” The taller boy confirmed with a nod. You giggled and shook your head at the pair. Even your father chuckled gently at them.  “Good to know my son is in safe hands.” Though your father was aware that these two weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed of San Dimas, he wasn’t about to take away some of your only company. Your mother had brought it up to him before, but he usually elected to ignore the comments. “Anyway- get going, before your mother gets back. If she sees you going off with these to again without checking in properly she’ll have a fit.” He gestured to the door, “Just be back by eleven tonight, alright?”  “We’ll have him back by then!” Ted told him, opening the door and striding out, followed closely by Bill, and then you. Your father gave a wave, before heading back into your family home. 

There were few words on the journey to the local orange ringed store, you only started to speak again when you had each purchased your chosen flavour of slushie. Bill with strawberry, Ted with blue raspberry, and you with another blue raspberry. You all took a seat on the curb, and you decided to fill the silence with one of the first thoughts that came to your head mid-sip. “So, are you two ready for the end-of-semester presentation Mr Ryan is going to assign?” You asked, and both of your boyfriends looked rather shocked. “What? He’s done it with every other year-group, and we’re not exactly different, specification wise....” You pointed out, and Ted groaned.  “I suck at presentations.” He complained, “Plus neither of us can remember anything that Mr Ryan has taught us!” He exclaimed, gesturing rather wildly with his slushie. “I mean, even with your help, dude, I don’t think we’re going to do all that well.” You were about to speak, but Bill was the one to step in first.  “We gotta try, man,” He placed an affectionate hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder, “If we don’t, it’s even more likely that you’re going to be sent off to that heinous school in Alaska.” Ted considered this, then nodded. Bill was right.  “I’ll do everything I can to help my boys remember all they can,” You told them, a fond smile on your face which they quickly returned. They loved being referred to as your boys, they couldn’t even deny it- you could see it in their eyes. Bill leant over and pressed a very brief kiss to your cheek- though not before checking the parking lot was clear, empty of onlookers- and Ted reached across Bill’s legs to grab your hand, squeezing your palm to show some affection; you were too far away for a kiss from him, and he didn’t overly want to get up whilst his slushie was still rather full. He took a sip from the plastic straw in his beverage, before clearing his throat. “So..” He began, starting to grin wider than usual. “Who wants to make purple?” He nudged Bill, who then quickly looked to you, wearing the same grin as your other boyfriend. You started to laugh- of course this had been something that neither of them had forgotten. 

Without another word exchanged between you, you leant to close the gap between you and Bill, letting lips and tongue tangle in a passionate display of affection. Ted stared on adoringly, not overly minding that Bill was the first to get your attention and affection- though now he had finished off the majority of his drink he scuttled round to your other side, carefully taking your jaw in his hand when you eventually pulled away from Bill to catch your breath. Your break didn’t last for too long, since Ted pulled you gently so your already kiss swollen lips met his equally soft ones. Bill couldn’t help the warm and love-filled smile that spread over his face, before he just had to press a kiss to your cheek, and then reach over to Ted’s cheek to make sure he wasn’t left out. You all separated after a minute or so, and you wiped your lip carefully, wearing the same wide and almost goofy smile as the other two. Your lips, and tongue, as predicted, had turned a rather strange shade of purple.  “I think we should get another snack,” Ted suggested, “Cause I’m hungry, and then we can get the colour off of our tongues,” He grinned, and Bill considered the preposition.  “I guess some food wouldn’t hurt...” He agreed, “Marshmallows?” He suggested, which was replied to with a nod from both you and Ted. “I’ll get them then,” Bill smiled at you both, searching his pocket for some spare change as he got to his feet; marshmallows were a fair bit cheaper than slushies, and he could afford them with what he had to hand. Whilst he went back into the Circle K, you shuffled closer to Ted, smiling lightly as he drew you closer with an arm around your shoulder. That morning had certainly been most excellent, as most of the time with your boyfriends always was- it was something that you always looked forward to; spending time with them, making memories that would forever make you smile. 

#bill and ted #bill and ted's excellent adventure #bill and ted's bogus journey #bill s preston esquire #bill s preston #ted logan #ted theodore logan #alex winter #young keanu #80s/90s keanu #keanu reeves #ted logan x reader #bill preston #bill s preston x reader #bill and ted x reader

[mattsunism]

nsfw! kozume kenma x female reader

warnings: cockwarming, riding, oral/facepainting (??is that the word)

“K-Kenma! Um, I’ve had a big crush on you for a while!” 

Piercing golden eyes bore back into your own, causing all your built-up courage to quickly wither away. You had held eye contact with him for a second (maybe two if you were being generous) before turning your eyes to look down at your shoes, suddenly being very aware of your burning ears and realizing that maybe, just maybe, confessing in the middle of the parking lot of your college campus was not a very smart move on your part. But, in your defense, it was better than asking him in a 200-person lecture hall. 

The target of your confession let out a low sigh, a hand coming out of his sweatshirt pocket to nonchalantly scratch the back of his neck.

To be honest, Kenma paid no mind to your confession. In fact, even in the midst of your sudden burst, the tired boy was more preoccupied with the upcoming shareholder meeting that he knew he would have to take part in. The matter of fact was, he barely knew you enough to care. All he could remember about you was that you would lend him pens during lecture and would give him a cute smile while doing so. 

Kuroo had been nagging him to do something other than play games... so he supposed that it wouldn’t hurt to accept your confession. Begrudgingly, he admits, he had been a bit bored ever since he stopped playing volleyball in high school. 

He suddenly let out a small laugh at his thought of comparing you to volleyball, bringing his sleeve up to cover his mouth. Your head raised slowly to look up at him, confused at his random action. 

“Ah, sorry. So, do you want to go out?” He tilted his head slightly, his eyes glistening with amusement. 

“Eh?” You were caught off guard. Yes, you were ecstatic, but you never 

“Oh, but I have one condition.” Kenma let out, continuing once he saw you shake your head fervently. He let out another chuckle at your puppy-like actions, before resuming his words. “If you get boring, I’m dropping you. Got it?” Without giving you a chance to question his words, Kenma gave you a knowing smile and turned around to head towards his red sports car. 

“See ya later,” he called over his shoulder, getting in his car and driving away. And there you stood, head empty and mouth slightly agape at the fact that your (objectively) lame confession actually worked.

Despite Kenma’s seemingly lethargic and quiet nature, he was rather… forward when it came to his desires. And such is partially the reason why you’re sitting on Kenma’s lap, one leg on each side of his body, the fabric of your underwear pushed naughtily to the side to make way for Kenma’s hard length.

Well, to be fair, it’s not as if you didn’t enjoy this side of him. A light sigh brought you out of your thoughts, and you pulled your head away from the crook of Kenma’s shoulders to look at the screen behind you. 

The taunting music that blared from the screen indicated the gamer’s loss, and you felt your thighs quiver in anticipation. “Damn it, so close too.” Kenma clicked his tongue, brows furrowing slightly at the flashing GAME OVER sign on the computer screen. He brought his fist down to lightly hit the arm of his chair, and you squirmed in his lap at the sudden jolt of movement.

He looked down at you, giving you a deceivingly sweet smile. “Give me a minute to save my data. You can wait a bit longer for me, right?” 

You bit your lip and gave him a slight nod, unable to trust your own voice. Kenma pat your head in approvement, murmuring quiet words of praise in your ear. “That’s my good girl. Thanks for keeping my cock nice and warm in that sweet pussy of yours.” He pressed a light kiss to the side of your face, wholly enjoying your submissive state.

An idea popped into his head, and he smirked before giving you a mock pout, golden eyes peering innocently into your own. “Hey, kitten. I’m a bit tired from playing, so can you move?” Seeing your hesitant face, he dropped his innocent facade to give you a sly smile. “C’mon. You know how much I like to see you bounce on the cock that you love so much, hm?” 

Eager to please, you bit your lip shyly and shifted on his lap to get into a more comfortable position. With one hand on Kenma’s shoulder and the other on the armrest, you slowly lifted yourself up, suppressing a moan at the way his dick slid out of you. You then began to slowly ride his dick, eyes fluttering at the way Kenma’s hard cock began to slide out of your achingly wet pussy. 

You were already sensitive from being forced to keep his cock warm during Kenma’s matches, and it didn’t help that the sound of your pussy sucking up his cock only turned you on further. In a desperate attempt to satisfy the unbearable heat that spread throughout your body, you increased your pace of fucking yourself on his dick.

Kenma put two fingers in his mouth, coating it with his saliva before bringing his slender digits down to rub at your swollen clit. The sudden stimulation brought you over the edge in no time, and you couldn’t help but moan Kenma’s name loudly as you grinded down onto him to prolong your second orgasm of the night. 

“Aw, did you come again? Already?” Kenma faked a sigh, mockingly shaking his head in disappointment. “You’re going to have to work harder so that I can come too, y’know. I’ve taught you not to be selfish, right kitten?” You nod fervently at his words, too immersed in the pleasure of his cock hitting your sweet spot over, and over, and over again. 

“Mhm, I’m a good girl, just for you, just for you Kenma,” you let out, moaning lewdly as you feel Kenma’s fingers flick at the swollen nub of your clit teasingly.

In an effort to prove your earlier statement you dip your head down, lips coming down to meet Kenma’s own. You moan into his mouth at the sensation of his tongue coming in contact at your own, and you lightly pull at his bottom lip, knowing his weak spots. You pull back only to travel further down, your lips nipping and sucking lightly at his jawline, creating a trail of marks down to his collarbone. 

Kenma let out a breathy moan, his head coming back to push against the headrest of his chair. Thin fingers press into your sides before roughly pushing you down to sink onto his length. 

“A-ah?!” You couldn’t help the yelp that escaped your mouth as you heard the base of his dick slap against your skin, and you shuddered at the overstimulation.

Kenma continued to bounce you on his cock, biting his bottom lip harshly to prevent himself from moaning. After a few thrusts Kenma pulled you off his lap, and you felt your legs quiver before falling down into a kneeling position onto the floor, unable to find the strength to stand. Kenma wrapped a tight hand around his cock, letting out a low growl as he palmed at the tip of his hard, red tip. 

“Come here kitten, take it.” 

You leaned in close enough that you were but a few inches from his cock, your mouth opening and your tongue coming out of your mouth. At the sight of you waiting so eagerly for his cum Kenma couldn’t hold himself back any further, forcing his eyes open through his orgasm to make sure he aimed properly. 

Thick ribbons of white spurted out all over your tongue and inside your mouth, and you couldn’t help but feel the tingles that spread throughout your body at the sight of Kenma pumping his cock and aiming his cum in your mouth.

He watched you with lidded eyes, taking care to make sure that you took all of his cum and swallowed it like the good girl you were before letting his head loll to the side, thoughts muddled from the overwhelming pleasure buzzing through his veins. After taking a few moments to come down from his high he raised his arms out towards you, eyes blinking slowly as a lazy smile spread across his lips. 

“The floor must be cold. Come here, baby.” Almost immediately you leap into his arms, your arms coming around to circle his torso and your head finding home at the crook of his neck. 

“Can we take a nap?” You murmur, your voice slightly muffled from your face being pressed into his body. Kenma nuzzled his nose into your hair, smiling at your cute request. Wordlessly, he gets up from his chair, carrying you to the bed at the corner of the room. He sets you down carefully, noticing your drooping eyes, and brushes a stray piece of hair away from your face. He takes a second to laugh at your quiet whines calling him to bed before going to the bathroom to dampen a towel to wipe down your tired body. 

Padding back into the bedroom, Kenma lets out a breathy laugh when he sees that you’ve fallen asleep, your arms wrapped tightly around his pillow. He admits, you’ve grown on him. To him, you’re far more interesting than any video game he’s ever played.

#kozume kenma #kenma #why did??? tumblr delete my post??? eyem #kenma x reader #kenma smut #kozume kenma smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu!! #hq #nekoma

[rentsturner]

Bruised Knuckles | Mark Renton

Warnings - Reader has punched a wall, mentions/descriptions of injury, mentions of (non-specified) scars, alcohol and drugs, content that some people may find as very similar to self-harm, reader is paranoid and insecure. If any of this triggers you pls don’t continue to read. I’ve tried to note all the possible triggers.

wc - 1.7k

a/n - I’ve had a pretty shitty few days tbh and I still feel the lowest that I’ve felt in months. So I’ve channeled all of that into this fic. It’s quite angst heavy but there’s fluff at the end (what can I say, hurt and comfort is my shit). You may find the reader’s emotions a bit dramatic but I’ve basically self projected on to this and I’m not rlly arsed. Read the warnings and if you don’t like it, don’t read it. I don’t want any shit over this

It’s a cold day in Edinburgh, the skies grey and cloudy over the city.It’s been a long day without Mark. He’s been out since the early hours with Sickboy, no doubt dragged into another of Si’s infamous schemes, leaving you to spend the day alone in your tiny apartment. As much as you don’t want to admit it, the isolation has gotten to you - you slipped, more than once. Yeah, you regret it, but also there’s that nagging need for more at the back of your mind. You try to push it out, to forget about it, but the cold in the air doesn’t help to ease the ache in your knuckles.

The door to the apartment shuts with a click and a jangle of keys, footsteps heading towards the door. He’s back. A wave of relief, before you remember and your chest clenches in panic.

‘Alright, love?’ Mark flops onto the bed with a lazy grin, stretching his arms up over his head.

‘Yeah, fine, you?’ Keep it simple. You busy yourself with a stack of books by the bed, straightening the pile of novels so it’s not about to topple over. Keep the hand busy.

‘Yeah, alright. Si led us on a fucking wild goose chase but we got there in the end, y’know?’

You didn’t know, but you nodded along anyway and let him recount the story. You’re admiring the way his lashes flutter against his pale skin and how his arms flex as his hands come to rest behind his head, when you realise that Mark’s stopped talking. And you’ve stopped moving.

‘Your knuckle...” his eyes dart down to the hand you’ve been trying to hide ever since he walked through the door. Busted.

‘Oh.’ You move to get up, anything to get his eyes away from your swollen knuckles, red lines criss crossing over the flowering purple bruises where your hand collided with a solid wall. Multiple times. The open cuts are still weeping, even though it had happened hours ago.

‘It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.’ You offer a small smile, but it doesn’t fool Mark.

‘No.’ He moves as you do, standing in front of the bedroom door to block your escape. His arms are crossed over his chest, stance serious , but the worry in his blue eyes betrays him. ‘Love. Let me see it.’

He holds out his hand, pale fingers reaching out to you, his skin just as scarred as yours - different actions, same result. He knows how to help. The hand reaching,an offer of support, reassurance, love, all those things that you crave but can never admit. Emotions aren’t your forté - never have been.But Mark knows that. There’s no secrets between you. You almost laugh out loud at the thought. No secrets, but you won’t even show Mark your hand.

Mark would do anything for you, you know that - he tells you all the time. Days spent in bed chatting shit to each other.

‘I’d run to John O'Groats and back for you, y’know?’

‘Would you now, Mark? What about down to Land’s End?’

‘In a heartbeat.’

Bright eyes, wide smile. Your Mark. He’s joking, of course, but his tone is so serious, his answer without a second of hesitation. Your heart skips a beat.

So now, you give him your hand (and your heart).

He takes it tentatively, one cold hand underneath, the other poking at your raw knuckles gently. When one of his prods reaches a tender spot, you wince and he moves his finger away, meeting your gaze in apology.

‘You punch something?’ His brow creases, a hand running instinctively over his closely cropped hair, before scratching at the back of his neck. He refuses to grow it out, no matter how much you try to persuade him, still getting his razor out every other month like clockwork.

‘It’s easier this way.’ He insists. Less hassle in the morning is what he means.

The sting in your hand brings you back to the present.

‘No.’ You look away from Mark’s gaze, knowing that in doing so you’ll give yourself away, but not having the energy or willpower to stop yourself. Much like the ‘incident’ earlier in the day.

‘I’m going to take that as a yes.’ Mark huffs, not in anger, but in frustration - frustration that he wasn’t there to help, to calm you down. ‘Let me clean it up, give me a sec.’

His hand rubs at his eyes, scrunched shut for a moment. There’s dark bags marring his pale skin there - he’s tired too. He goes to move to the bathroom, but you grab his arm with your good hand, gripping it as tight as you can. Don’t leave.

‘No, Mark, it’s alright, I’ll sort it.’

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t look happy. Not that you’d expect him to, but...he’s frustrated with you, you can tell.

‘You can’t clean yourself up with one hand. Just wait here, alright?’

The inkling is worming its way in now, from your subconscious to your conscious, until its at the forefront of your mind. He’s angry, he’s disgusted, he’s going to leave. He’s not going to the bathroom, he’s going to the front door so he can get out of here. You’re sure of it.

‘I’m sorry.’ The whisper escapes you and you have to bite the inside of your cheek so no tears will spill. The words are almost silent, your hand dropping Mark’s in defeat.

But Mark turns his head at your weak apology, stopping in his tracks.

‘What? Why -‘

With a jolt, he notices the way you’ve changed - unable to look at him, arms beginning to wrap around yourself, one fist clenched. He knows what’s happening.

‘No, no, love, I’m not angry.’

He’s back at your side in a heartbeat, bringing his hand up to your chest, thumb carefully wiping away the rogue tear that’s tracking a salty path over your cheekbone.

‘I love you. I just want the best for you, alright? I don’t like seeing you hurt, just like I’d fucking hope you wouldn’t like seeing me hurt.’

His face breaks into a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you realise he’s right - of course he is. You don’t want to see him hurt, he’s been through enough, but that’s what you’re doing. He’s hurting just from seeing your hand, it’s obvious from the crease in his brow, the blue of his eyes dulled and flat. Mark’s got too much to deal with already, you’re just one extra problem to add to the mix. You don’t want to be his problem.

And suddenly it’s all coming up to the surface, ready to combust, explode, these emotions that you never really have a grip on. You bottle them up and push them down, so far down that the only way they can escape is through a rush of anger, jagged and uncontrollable.

But instead of that, you bury your face into Mark’s neck and let it out as slowly as you can.

‘I’m sorry, I was angry, I just wanted to feel something. Some pain. I don’t want to make you feel like this. I’m sorry.’

You’re clutching onto the worn fabric of Mark’s shirt like your life depends on it. You can’t possibly let go of him, the only one you have left.

Mark is steady, your rock in a storm of emotions. He listens, stroking your hair, pale fingers threading through the strands to knead at your scalp, knowing it tends to calm you down.

‘You’re alright, I promise. I promise you, love. I know you get angry. I know you. And I know what it’s like to want to feel something, trust me. We can get through it together, or we can be a mess together. I don’t care, as long as we’re together, honest. I’m not going anywhere.���

And the sincerity in his eyes, those familiar bright blue eyes, it convinces you. He means it.

You stay like this for a few minutes, your good hand clinging onto Mark’s ratty jumper, the other grasped tightly (but not too tightly) in Mark’ grip. His right arm is around your waist, pulling you closer, as if in doing so he can pour all of his reassurance, all of his love, directly to your heart. He knows it’s not possible. But he tries anyway. Because he’ll do anything for you. Your Mark.

Mark helps you clean your hand later, shushing you everything you wince (though that isn’t often). His hands are steady and practiced as he dabs at the cuts with alcohol, wrapping the gauze over your knuckles and securing it with some tape, humming to himself as he works, the steady tune in time with his deft movement. He doesn’t look up until the job is done - and a good job it is too. He knows what he’s doing, probably after years of wrapping Sickboy’s hands up in the same way - late nights out in the rough streets of Leith, fuelled by alcohol and amphetamines (and worse)

Mark kisses the bandages gently when he’s done - a silent ‘I love you. I care for you and I love you.’

And you smile, a smile that fills your whole body with warmth, a smile that drowns out the demons, if only for a little while. Because how can you not, when you have Mark. He tries his best and so do you - neither of you can ask anymore. You’ll be a mess together.

‘Let’s order Chinese and watch Dr No, eh?’

Or you’ll get through this together

*~*~*~*

@callmearwen @ohhellokenobi @darthserling @stardancerluv @goldenkenobi @lunarthoughts @saintlaurentkenobi @million-dollar-legs @i-am-i-am-obiwankenobi @letmybabysleep @haydens-moles @alideetoo @all-hallows-evie @junkieboyfriend @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @star-whores-a-new-hoe @arianalilyblack @sigynragnarsdottir @funkytxwn @drinksomecoco @darlingkenobi

#mark renton imagine #mark renton x reader #mark renton #mark renton headcanons #trainspotting #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #fic recs #my writing #scotland #mark renton blurb #mark renton one shot #alex law

[sadoeuphemist]

Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment 

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2)  to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order. 

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair’ or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

#fiction #dumping grounds

[hansolmates]

jjk; angel’s trumpet [06]

summary; one second, your life is flashing before your eyes and the next, you’re transported into a world exactly like your own. but the jungkook you meet in this world isn’t a renowned singer or your former almost-lover, in fact he has no clue who you are and why you know him so well. as you work to find your way home lost and confused, you conclude that you’re either dead or in the middle of the most wicked drug trip of your life. pairing; idol!jk x reader (f), alternatively film producer!jk x reader genre/warnings; fluff, angst, supernatural, idol!au, non-idol!au, alternate universes, themes of fate, language, alcohol consumption, in this chapter—partial nudity, dry humping, sad tears  w.c; 3.5k a/n; a little steamy in the beginning but soft and gooey in the end! enjoy the softness while it lasts bc we’re getting close to the end!! and to satiate your curiosity yes cheesecake factory was ultimate date night 

[05] [06] [07] -> masterpost

Abiding by the dress code, you show up at Jungkook’s doorstep with your rattiest sweatpants, Adidas slides and a plain black t-shirt. You hold your night pack in one hand, and a pint of taro ice cream in your other. 

Before you even have a chance to knock the door is flung open, Jungkook ushering you inside with his marigold oven mitts. Aside from the frilly pink apron that you’re half sure is Minghao’s, you and Jungkook are unexpectedly matching in overworn sweatpants and oversized t-shirts. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” he’s hot under the stove, sweat beading from his temples as he concentrates on simmering the cream for your pasta. He’s carefully spooning the angel hair pasta from the pot to his saucepan, mixing the sauce vigorously in order to emulsify the contents. You wonder how many Binging with Babish and Joshua Weissman he watched to get to this kind of expertise in the kitchen. 

You hug his torso, peeking up from his elbows, “It smells divine.” 

“Thanks, baby. It’s almost done. Mind finishing up the table?” 

A smile quirks up when you see the coffee table cleared, apart from two wine glasses and a Bath and Body Works candle lit in the middle. Off the table you see a plastic bag with a takeout strawberry cheesecake. You quickly move through his kitchen to grab some plates and cutlery, setting the table that is lined with a simple white table cloth. 

“I’m getting the whole Olive Garden treatment today, huh?” you say as you uncork the wine, pouring two hearty glasses. 

“Nuh-uh. We’re going full-out Cheesecake Factory tonight.” 

You set out the coaster for him to place the pasta pan between you two. The pasta is mixed with a hearty aroma of your favorite aromatics and with plenty of fix-ins to declare a hearty meal. Jungkook also pulls out a basket of bread with a pad of butter in the middle, and your mouth salivates as you pick up a dark brown one. The bread is still hot from the touch, like a little pillow in your hands as you rip it open. 

The two of you converse mindlessly over dinner, talking about various things and catching up with the week. Warm, flushed with affection and wine, you bask in the simple but sweet dinner with your favorite person. 

Eventually you two got lazy spooning pasta into your plate and cuddled up in the middle of the table, spooning each other twirled pasta until the pan’s licked clean. 

Jungkook’s quick to turn on Disney+ once you’re done, hopping on the couch to flip through his holy grail films. 

“Quick. Favorite Avenger?” 

“Well… I think Antman’s pretty—”

“Antman? Antman? You may be only one of three people in this world that like Marvel over DC,” he wags the remote at you like a child, “I’m sorry but I think we need to re-evaluate your sanity.”

“Hey! It's a cute movie, okay? He’s sacrificed everything out of love for his daughter.” 

You sit up on your knees, putting your hands atop your boyfriend’s thighs as you explain your earnest opinion. You’re nestled between his legs, looking up at him with a determined look on your face. 

Jungkook on the other hand, can’t help but view this precarious situation as anything but innocent. But seeing the pout on your face and your insistence to defend the superhero has him melting. 

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you up. 

You immediately let him tug you to his lap, fitting your legs between his torso like a puzzle piece. It’s a perfect fit, and you immediately thread your fingers through his head, feeling like a koala as you cling to the scent of his fabric softener. 

“Wanna know a secret?” he faux whispers.

You hum against the collar of his shirt. 

“I really, really like you.” 

“That’s a terrible secret,” you deadpan, “I already knew that. You gave me the whole Cheesecake Factory treatment, after all. In high school, going on a date there confirmed you were serious.” 

“I guess this is me confirming how serious I am about us?” he tugs you away from his neck so he can press his forehead to yours. He lets his eyes flutter shut, and your finger goes to trail down his nose to his lips, “because I am,” he whispers, words moving against your pointer, “very serious about us.” 

“I am too,” you reply earnestly, the pads of your thumbs brushing against his soft cheeks. As you stare in his eyes, you feel a shift in your chest, a sign. 

Hoseok was right. He’s Jungkook, but not your Jungkook. You try not to let your smile falter as you trace the planes of his skin, noting the clear, stress-free skin and lack of eye bags. 

You try to pin your incessant thoughts for now, Jungkook put a lot of effort in this date. He presses his lips to yours, and you immediately let yourself relent under his touch. His hands are warm and needy, trailing from the waistband to the bare skin of your back. His hands fumble to where your bra is supposed to be, and he breaks from your kiss. 

He raises an eyebrow, “You really committed to the dress code tonight, eh?” 

You reach for his hand, letting him palm your bare breast. “I–oh,” you bite your lip at the way he kneads the tender flesh, his wide doe eyes fixated on your facial expression, “always like to be prepared.” 

Squirming in his lap, you let yourself sink against his crotch as you fumble to rip off your t-shirt. Jungkook drinks you in, petal pink lips parting like a kitten starved for milk. One large hand settles on your waist, and his lips latch onto a nipple. 

You cry out, instinctively rolling your hips against his as he brings you to a slow, sensual pace. 

“My pretty girl,” he praises, marveling at the way you immediately respond to his touches. “You look so, so beautiful like this.” 

He snaps his hips up, and through the thin material of your soaked sweats, it’s apparent that he likes this as much as you do. You bite your lip, getting lost in the way Jungkook tends to your body. 

“Baby,” he rasps against your neck, dampening the skin, “hold tight.” 

And his hands move to cup your cheeks, lifting you up in one swoop and bringing you to his room. You immediately cling to him like your life depends on it, and you both giggle and laugh as your boobs bounce with every step and how he suddenly got a cramp in his calf for getting up too fast. 

Jungkook quickly throws you on his twin, and for a second you feel like you’re floating. The sheets smell like floral fabric softener, and you’re encased in an ocean of seashell white blankets and fluffy pillows. Jungkook crawls over to you, looking absolutely smitten as he trails a stream of kisses from your bare belly button all the way to your lips. 

“God, I’m so lucky,” he husks against your collarbone, and you can feel the smile on his lips melding into your skin. “I’m so lucky to have met someone like you, and you’re all mine.” 

At the second he says that, the whole moment feels like an out of body experience. Not in the way two minutes ago, when you felt like you were on cloud nine as Jungkook ravished your body. This feeling is akin to drowning, making you all choked up as you try your hardest not to let the man above you notice. 

“Hey,” he brushes against your cheeks, the pads of his thumbs gathering the moisture welling from your eyes, “baby, are you okay?” 

“Oh,” you sit up slightly, roughly scrubbing away the tears from your face. A strong flush overrides any hint of pleasure that you felt, effectively ruining the moment. You feel terrible, angry at yourself for getting so caught up in your emotions. “I—I’m sorry, it’s just…” 

“Is it me?” he looks a little hurt, sitting on his heels to give you some space, “did we go too fast? I’m sorry—” 

“No, no Jungkook!” you fling up, finding the strength to wrap your small hands around his. “You, you’ve been wonderful. Honestly, I couldn’t ask for more. You’ve done so much for me in a short amount of time,” you squeeze his hands, feeling the warmth of his fingers sink through yours. You wish you could hold onto him, keep this moment tangible for as long as possible. “It’s me, Jungkook. I’m a little messed up in the head.” 

“Is it him?” 

You can’t tell from Jungkook’s expression if he’s feeling slighted by W1 Jungkook. Despite not knowing the situation fully, he really does have a good grasp on how much this has been affecting you, and how much you’ve been trying to avoid it. You have it good here, you can’t deny that. But you can’t be here forever, it isn’t fair to anyone. 

“Some of it, yeah,” you let go of him, hands falling at your lap as you dampen his sheets with your continuous bout of silent sobs. “I’m so sorry, Jungkook. You must think I’m awful and you’re the second choice and fuck—you don’t deserve any of this. I’ve been so selfish wanting to be happy after so long and—”

Patient, loving Jungkook pulls you into his arms, forcing your head between his so he can stroke your head. You’re now full on sobbing on his chest, succumbing to his touch as he soothes you like a baby. 

“What’s so wrong about being selfish for a little bit?” he asks, tone light. He rests his chin on your crown. “At the end of the day, this is your life. Do what makes you happy, save yourself.” 

You don’t know if you can form coherent words so you nod fervently, nuzzling your nose into his collarbone. 

“I’m not going anywhere. Take your time with me, y/n.” 

Is there even time left to take? 

The two of you stay like that for a while. You don’t know how long, but eventually your tears dry and Jungkook’s body is too furnace-like to be pressed up against. Moving so you can still face each other, you plop yourselves side-by-side on the mattress, facing each other. 

Fiddling with the sheets you ask, “Can I still stay here?” 

A soft smile resurfaces to Jungkook’s lips, immediately alleviating your hesitancy. “Of course, I wouldn’t want you to sleep alone if you’re still shaken up.” 

“Could you tell me something happy? So we can end the night on a positive note.” 

He chuckles, propping his arm up on the pillow and tucking his hand to support his head. He’s still shirtless, inadvertently flexing as he adjusts himself. You try not to stare, but Jungkook decides not to tease you just this once. 

“So, it’s kinda-sorta a secret. I’m not really confident about it yet but,” he blows on his black bangs, nervous, “I like to sing.” 

A small, tender smile worms its way onto your visage. “Yeah? I’m sure you’re a beautiful singer.” 

Jungkook snorts, “You’ve never even heard me.” 

“Hm, I still know you’re beautiful.” 

“Well, there’s this producer that works at the radio station. He’s a friend of a friend, and they hooked me up and I’m gonna collab with him. We’re gonna finally meet up and I’m gonna demo some of his songs. He needs a vocalist.” 

“That’s amazing. I can’t wait to hear.” 

“Yeah,” and a dreamy smile overtakes his lips, his eyes floating to the gold LEDs decorating his room as if they are stars. “It’s just a hobby, but I wanna give my all in this.” 

You hum, tucking your hands between the cool pillow, “Can I hear you sing?” 

He frowns, “I’m not even warmed up.” 

“C’mon, just a ‘lil sample!” 

“What do I get out of it?” 

“A happy girlfriend. And if you’re that uncomfortable I’ll sing for you after. I make a pretty mean rendition of Happy Birthday.” 

A pause, and he relents, reaching over to squish your cheek. “Only because you look so peaceful right now,” he sits up a little, “any requests?” 

“Lost Stars, by Maroon 5.” 

“Oh, so she has taste.” 

He takes a deep breath, willing himself to be vulnerable around you. You almost tear up again, hearing the sweet sounds of his voice as he starts off with the pre-chorus of a cover near and dear to your heart. He’s right, his voice is rough and untrained, but the potential is there. But it’s the one thing from home that you’ve missed, and just a couple notes is enough to make you feel at home. 

Once his sample ends, he throws you a small smile and buries himself in the blankets. His face pops up cutely, embarrassed. 

You throw yourself onto the mattress with a flourish, clutching your chest as you make a show of swooning. “That was beautiful,” you say sincerely, “please post a full cover on YouTube. They’re gonna swoon over you.” 

He rolls his eyes, “As if. Only K-pop idols get that kind of attention.” 

“I suppose,” you shrug. 

“But you, however. I remember you saying you were gonna sing for me in return,” he laughs when you groan and flop against the cushions. “C’mon, I wanna see that Happy Birthday remix!” 

You playfully sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Alright, but you only get one line.” 

“Mhm, hit me with that Happy Birthday.” 

No, you are not going to sing Happy Birthday. You take your time, and reach a hand to caress his face. He easily leaned into your touch, placing his hand on top of yours. 

“Take my hands now, you are the cause of my Euphoria.” 

Whether your singing talents are good or not did not matter, Jungkook is equally enamoured. “That’s a nice song,” he says simply, “I’ve never heard it before.” 

You shrug, scooting closer, “Maybe you will one day.” 

The length of the day starts to edge you off to sleep, and you feel your eyes fluttering in and out of consciousness. Jungkook seems equally exhausted, but patient as he watches you fight to stay awake. He pulls the blankets over both of you, reaching forward to pull you closer. 

He looks at you in consent, hands hovering over you as you nod. He starts with your shoulder, trailing his palms down your smooth skin before it reaches the curve of your waist. 

“G’night, Koo,” you mumble, snuggling into his warm chest, “‘M sorry again, we’ll talk about it soon.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” how could he possibly be upset, when he feels how much you care for him right here at this very moment? He presses his lips to your forehead, “everything will be fine, pretty girl. The way I see it, the way we met was fate.” 

•━━━━━━»•»💮💮💮«•«━━•••

W1. 

Jungkook jolts awake, as if lightning pierces his system. 

Instinctively, his hand reaches for yours. Despite the weather getting warmer, your hand still remains uncomfortably cold. He rubs a hand across his face, sweeping the sleep that so desperately wants to take him. 

Things have changed. Your superficial wounds have healed, however you still appear pale and lifeless, twitching occasionally in your sleep. 

Your position has been replaced, right off the bat. There’s a new language teacher to guide the rookies, who has big shoes to fill as they take long hours to ensure that they’re worth keeping. He isn’t sure you’ll have a job to come back to when you wake up. 

It’s been well over a month since he’s seen you. The first couple of days he refused to leave your side, insistent on cleaning your skin with a warm cloth and putting lavender lotion on because you couldn’t. After that, he had no choice in the matter. Life had to go on without you. 

If anyone was in pain from your hit and run, they’ve so far masked it really well. Everyone other than Sehlyung however, whose roots have grown in and her stitching has slowed considerably, as if always interrupted by mere thought. But smiles continue to be exchanged, performances are full of unbridled energy, and he immerses himself completely. Except today when he gets a break, he insists to drive straight to the hospital to keep you company, even if you don’t know it. 

At that time Jimin placed a soft hand upon his sunken cheek, pale due to overexertion and lack of sleep. “Jungkook, you can go home with us and rest for a few hours,” he tried to convince him, “she’s not going anywhere.” 

“I know,” he felt like a child, fiddling with his hangnails as he’s pressed between Jimin and Hoseok in the back of their van, “just don’t wanna waste any time doing needless things.” 

“Like showering, eating, making sure you’re still a human being?” Hoseok tried to lighten the mood, staring out onto the city as they made their way to their apartment complex. “C’mon, I’m sure y/n can still smell how much you stink right now.” 

Someone chided Hoseok, and threw a bag of Cheetos in his lap. The conversation on their side started to morph into something else, completely forgetting the conflict Jungkook was going through. Jungkook sunk further into his seat, thighs brushing against Jimin’s as he continued his spiel. 

Jimin offered him a tentative smile, “In case she wakes up, y’know? I’m sure she doesn’t want to see you like this.” 

Jungkook’s not even sure if you’d want to see him at all. 

Nevertheless it’s six against one, and with a quick shower and a granola bar he’s already Ubering to the hospital. Initially he was going to bring his work computer to get some stuff done in your room, but he figured your family would be in your room and he didn’t want to impose. 

Thankfully, he could avoid another awkward conversation today (he didn’t want to remember the first one)  as the nurses told him that your family already left for today. That much was evident when he spotted a garbage bag by the door, filled with pizza boxes. Courtesy of the company you’ve been moved to a VIP room, large enough for your visiting family to spend their days in. 

The desk that he usually occupies to do work is filled with coloring pages from your younger cousins, renditions of you awake and playing dress-up with them. He doesn’t bother pushing them aside, instead plopping his bag in its chair and going over to the sofa chair closest to your bedside. 

Fast-forward to now, he doesn’t know when he fell asleep holding your hand. He opens your bedside drawer to search for something to wake him up. You always kept a tin of breath mints in your purse, just in case. 

Your purse is splayed out across the drawer, stray items rolling back and forth. Immediately finding the forest green tin Jungkook pops two spearmints in his mouth, slamming the drawer shut. 

He hears glass shuffle between the wood. Confused, he opens the drawer again, slowly. In the very back corner, there’s a bottle he’s never seen before. He picks up the tiny container, weighing it between his palms. A wilted, once sunset orange flower is floating sadly between the clear liquid. There’s a little bit of the liquid left, and it almost looks like a novelty item you keep in your purse, like a good luck charm. He pops open the lid and brings it to his nose. Maybe it’s his propensity to get sick more often, but he can’t smell its contents. 

With a shrug, he throws it back and takes a swig. 

He immediately coughs at the sudden and unexpected tang of floral alcohol. Some of the nurses passing by ask if he’s fine, but he waves them off and reaches for the glass of water on the counter. After downing half the glass he quickly caps the jar and shoves it back in your purse. 

Resting his head on the thin mattress, he reaches for your hand again. He whispers your name. 

“Can you hear me?” he says, halfheartedly trying to get you riled up like old times, “when you wake up, you owe me an explanation of whatever poison is in your bag.” 

When he closes his eyes, he dreams of you. It’s like he’s swimming, present but not. But it’s definitely his gaze, from his point of view. He sees you, naked in an unfamiliar room with warm yellow LEDs, reaching to caress his messy hair. Jungkook’s hands are splayed over your body, and he can almost feel how soft your skin is, slightly damp but comfortable enough to hold you. He can’t make out whatever you’re saying, but you flash him a tired smile and snuggle further into his chest, as warm as can be. 

#jungkook fic #jungkook angst #bts fic #goldenclosetnet #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook smut

[thegrimmgrimm]

oh im sorry did you think i was done with this?? 😂😂 https://thegrimmgrimm.tumblr.com/post/620532449904132096/an-idea-bouncing-around-in-my-head-for-the-last

Fair (I'll Stand Here With You)

Jaskier lets himself into the apartment, loudly declaring his entrance, and fairly sure he's left the two lovebirds enough time to finish up their morning celebrations. (Which he is certain will have involved pancakes, and copious amounts of maple syrup and whipped cream.)

Thankfully for his sanity, it appears he's correct in the assumption. He hears Yennefer call him into the kitchen where she stands nursing a fresh cup of tea, hair still damp from the shower and frame dwarfed in an obviously stolen shirt. Jaskier can't see any more of her from behind the counter, but he has to imagine that's all there is to the outfit. She gives him a lazy grin and a wink as greeting

Behind her, Geralt is quietly swearing at their perpetually-broken coffee machine and mumbling about infernal machines, wearing nothing but the most colourful pair of unicorn-patterned boxers Jaskier has ever seen. He turns to greet Jaskier with his own warm boneless-seeming smile and Jaskier can't help but laugh affectionately at the pair.

"Do you two still need a bit longer? I can go for a walk around the block and come back later?" Jaskier teases, watching Yen roll her eyes and Geralt huff out a silent laugh. Geralt just pushes a steaming cup of coffee across the counter towards him, looking fond and exasperated already.  

"So, year number five, eh? I, for one, am pleasantly surprised you two haven't managed to kill each other by now." It's Geralt's turn to roll his eyes at the line, but he's well versed in Jaskier's style of affection by now.

"What are we in for this time, Jaskier? More maudlin tunes to send us to sleep?" Yennefer asks, though the fondness in her expression takes the bite from her words.

Jaskier puts a hand to his heart in mock-horror. "Yennefer, you wound me. I have it from a good source you love all my songs."

Yennefer eyes him skeptically, then turns a suspicious eye on Geralt, who is suddenly very interested in the coffee machine again.

The three of them polish off their drinks whilst catching up around the kitchen counter, and soon enough Jaskier finds himself ushering his dearest friends into the living room to sit over on the couch.

He sets himself up on their sturdy coffee table, one leg tucked under him that he knows will fall asleep before he is finished but can never bring himself to care. Yen and Geralt sit watching him with the expression of school children told to be on their best behaviour.

Jaskier pokes his tongue out them and pulls out his phone to rest on his knee with lyrics he won't need, while they settle themselves down more comfortably and naturally. Yennefer sits forward with her knees tucked under her, and Geralt lounges back against the sofa with an arm thrown around her waist.

Jaskier smiles at them fondly before clearing his throat, "Right, now don't get all judgey-judgey. I've worked hard on this and no, I will not accept criticism."

They just laugh softly and Jaskier shakes off the barest of nerves daring to threaten him. It isn't really stage fright, or anything like that, and nor does he think they would be cruel or mean about it, not really. But Jaskier really has poured his heart into the song, and it'll feel inadequate if they don't end up liking it.

"Right then." Jaskier clears his throat again and starts plucking away at his guitar.

"It's what my heart just yearns to say In ways that can't be said..."

He watches his friends' reactions as he sings the first few lines, though he soon finds himself uncharacteristically overwhelmed by the attention and he looks down sightlessly at the words on his phone screen.

There are lines that draw small sounds of amusement from the two, but mostly they're silent as they watch and listen. Jaskier's eyes drift closed as he holds each line in his mind and tries to focus on keeping his voice steady. Each time he feels his voice strain or crack he fights a wince, as strong emotion threatens to choke his voice away.

There's just something about capturing how Jaskier sees the love between the two, and offering it back to them, raw and bare and honest.

"...Oh how, oh how unreasonable How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do I'll spend my days so close to you cos if I'm stood here Then I'm stood here And I'll stand here I'll stand here with you."

He fades off into a dreadful silence and waits for a moment before looking up, hiding only a little behind a hand he cards nervously through his hair. Yennefer and Geralt are staring at him with wide, shocked eyes.

"So, it was... good?" He ventures, tension growing in his stomach. He'd expected a much more jovial response, perhaps he'd overstepped? Maybe they're just that impressed. Completely lost for words. Jaskier is confident, but not that confident.

Yen and Geralt turn to look to each other in such synchronicity that Jaskier almost laughs aloud, and they share an indecipherable look before turning back to their long-suffering friend.  

It's Yennefer who moves first. She rises from the couch to stand in front of Jaskier and gently takes the guitar from his hands. Confused, he hands it over without complaint, did she not like it? She leans the instrument against the coffee table and her hands come up to cup both sides of Jaskier's face, her expression serious, yet somehow awed.

"Is that truly how you feel?" Her voice carries the same awe as her eyes, and Jaskier swallows round a lump in his throat, unable to answer with more of a jerky nod.

Something alights in her expression and all of a sudden, her hands are sliding back into Jaskier's hair and her mouth is on his mouth and she tastes of too-sweet tea and mint toothpaste and she's kissing him.

She pulls back and it's Jaskier's turn to stare in shocked awe. His traitorous voice remains elusive and his eyes flick to Geralt who looks so astoundingly soft and fond as he also moves forward, brushing his thumb gently across Jaskier's cheekbone, before he also captures Jaskier's lips in a kiss.

It's soft, and hard, and sweet. When he pulls back Jaskier eyes flick back and forth between amber and violet, slowly losing his mind. His hands are clinging to the fabric of his jeans, knuckles white, and he's sure he doesn't even have the leg he's sitting on anymore. "Hm." Jaskier finally manages.

"That's my line," Geralt rumbles back, and it's like the breaking of a dam. Yen's laugh ripples like a river over rocks and Jaskier can't help but join in, even as she pulls him in for another kiss, and Geralts hands pull him up off the table. He stumbles a little on his sleeping leg but is caught and held fast by strong arms. Cheeky ones at that.

Hands tease at the hem his shirt, and there's a mouth attached to either side of his neck, which is lovely, but might also kill him. Finally regaining the use of his hands, Jaskier twines them with one each of Yen and Geralts, briefly halting their fervour.

Jaskier clears his thoughts with the slight shake of his head, but the only discernible thing is, why on earth would you want to stop this? And Jaskier is hardly one to argue with himself, especially on such matters.

He gives an encouraging squeeze to each of the hands grasped in his and nods with a somehow shy and sly smile towards the bedroom door. "Should we, uh...?"

Yennefer's grin is cat-like and almost feral, and the rumbling groan he hears from Geralt is almost enough to make his knees give out, but like so many time before, but also like no other, Jaskier finds himself dragged after these two. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

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

Sometime later, (Minutes? Hours? Days? Who can say?) Geralt is, predictably, fast asleep, and Jaskier lies tracing meaningless shapes on the soft skin of Yennefer's back with his fingertips.

"So, I take it you liked your gift," Jaskier teases, mouthing softly at her shoulder.

Yennefer preens like a cat, dark curls falling about her shoulders. "Definitely the best one so far."

Jaskier gasps mockingly at her candour and she nudges him away with a laugh, sending him dramatically sprawling backwards, though careful not to wake the sleeping mountain. Yen just scoffs and rolls her eyes at him.

"Though, I'm not sure who out of us really got the better end of it." Yennefer teases back, and her smile turns devious. "We shall just have to endeavour to have you beat next year."

Warmth spreads through Jaskier at the implication, "You're on." He challenges, and he returns to doodling on her back, this time words forming under his quick fingers.

"What are you writing?" Yennefer asks, though she can probably sense the answer.

"Next year's song, of course." Jaskier hears the low rumble of laughter from behind him and Geralt's warm forearm wraps around his waist, stubble scratching between his shoulder blades as Geralt softly presses his face in.

"A hard act to follow," he murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. "But I'm sure we'll think of something."

#Geraskefer #Yennskier #Geraskier #The Witcher #modern au #rip my fic apparently yall get 1500 words of fluff instead #ohohoho #happy friyay #enjoy

[lu-undy]

May we have the homeymoon then?

Yis! Here is an idea of the honeymoon! I hope you’ll like it!

"Ah, you are finally awake, good morning, you lazy kangaroo." 

Mundy dragged his feet to the kitchen and dropped himself on the chair next to -

"Oh wait… I still have the ring…" He said, more to himself than to Lucien, staring at his own hand hovering in front of his eyes. The feeling of the silver ring between his fingers was still new.

"Oui, you are supposed to keep it for as long as we are both breathing on this Earth, you know?" Lucien joked as he poured the coffee for Mundy. 

"Wait… We're really married?" 

"I really hope you were fully aware and convinced when you said 'Je le veux' yesterday…" Lucien teased.

[I do.]

"Oh, love!"

"Oof-Mundy!"

Mundy had pulled Lucien off his chair and made him sit on his lap, cuddling him like he would a teddy bear. 

"We're really married!" 

"Oui, oof! Mundy, too strong, too strong!"

"Oh, sorry…" Mundy eased his hug on his now husband. 

"Merci, mon Dieu, your hugs could kill me!"

"I'm sorry, love, I didn't mean to hurt you…" 

Lucien smiled and put his lips on Mundy's, his fingers sliding between his brown locks of hair. Mundy leaned back on his seat completely. 

"Hmmm… I'm the happiest man alive, darl'." 

"We are two." Lucien answered as he laced his arms around Mundy's neck and leaned his head on the Aussie's shoulder.

"So…" Mundy took a sip of his coffee, an arm still around Lucien's waist. "Any plans for today?" 

"As a matter of fact, oui, I do have a plan for today and you are part of it."

"As I should, eh. This ring here says it!"

They exchanged a smile and Lucien grabbed a toast. He spread butter on it and got it close to Mundy's lips. He bit into it enthusiastically.

"Hm-mh!" 

"I guess that was a thanks."

Mundy nodded with a smile.

"Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" He put his mug down for a second. 

"Do you know what comes after a wedding?" 

"Oh yeah, yesterday night was a real treat, love. And it lasted for so long… I think it's the best night I've ever spent with someone, ever."

"Well, first, I indeed hope it was. But that wasn't what I meant, mon amour. What comes after a wedding and the wedding night?" 

"Uuh…" Mundy's eyes shot up as if he was visibly searching through the drawers and cupboards in his head. "Being happy?" 

Lucien chuckled at how clueless his husband was. 

"I meant the honeymoon, mon amour."

"Oh, ah… I see… Wait, so what?" 

"Put your hand in the pocket of my gown." Lucien said and Mundy obeyed. He pulled two plane tickets. 

"What the hell are you doing with those?" 

"I am taking you on a honeymoon. Our honeymoon." 

"What?! Where?!" Mundy tried to open the tickets to see but Lucien stole them off his very fingers. 

"You will see when you arrive there." Lucien answered and as Mundy tried to get his hands on the tickets, he got them further still. "Uh, uh, uh! No need to try. This is a surprise. We are due to leave Paris today, so let's prepare a suitcase and off we go." 

"When is the flight exactly?" 

"In barely enough time for us to make it!" Lucien said, climbing down his husband's lap. "Now, follow me!" 

They got a change and Lucien noticed that Mundy was standing in front of his pile of clothes in the cupboard, doing nothing else but staring and frowning. 

"Something is the matter? We don't have much time, mon amour."

"No I… I just don't know what to wear, I mean, are we going somewhere hot or…?" 

"Put on whatever you would usually." Lucien said.

"Well, that means poloshirt…"

Before they exited the flat, with their suitcase ready, Lucien grabbed Mundy's wrist and pulled. 

"What?" 

"Embrasse-moi."

[Kiss me.]

The next thing he knew, Mundy's lips were pushed by Lucien's but when he withdrew, the Frenchman removed his aviator glasses and replaced them with black ones. He also put a white cane in Mundy's hand and he put earplugs on him. 

"What the hell?!"

Lucien removed one, just for Mundy to hear him. 

"Those aren't sunglasses, I can't even see the tip of my bloody nose with them!" Mundy exclaimed.

"That is the point, I will reveal where we are when we get there, and if you dare even just think about removing those earplugs or the glasses, I swear I will make you eat them all."

"Wait, so I'm blind and deaf until we get there?!"

"Correct." Lucien put the second earplug and guided his husband outside. 

About an hour later, they were both in the airport. Mundy had felt the sun on his skin and the seats of the taxi they went on. But God knew where they were going… Later still, he passed security checks and boarded the plane. Lucien was next to him, he could smell his expensive perfume. Mundy bent on his side, looking for Lucien's ear and whispered.

"Lu'?"

"You are supposed to be deaf and as a consequence, you cannot know how to speak, Mundy." 

"I love you." 

Lucien's eyes snapped wide under the surprise but then, his usual serene smile came back. 

"So do I." 

Mundy heard the muffled noises of the captain of the plane speaking, then the safety instructions. After that, he felt some fabric on his hand, Lucien's jacket no doubt. He was about to put it between his legs but Lucien held it back. Mundy was confused… until he felt his husband's hand slither under the jacket and on Mundy's thigh. They held hands, out of everyone's sight and Mundy blushed under the glasses. Their fingers slid between each other's, and Mundy relaxed. Wherever Lucien was taking him, he had made absolutely sure it would be one hell of a surprise. 

"Lu'?"

"What?"

They whispered again. 

"How long's this gonna take?" 

"We have about eight hours left, here, lean your head on my shoulder and you get some sleep." 

"Eight hours?!" 

"Oui, and don't be so loud, half of the plane is already asleep."

"Bloody hell… Alright, I'll sleep. You wake me up when we get there, eh?" 

"Non, I will go and enjoy my honeymoon with the next kangaroo man I will see." Lucien teased. 

"You…"

"Shh… Now, sleep." 

Mundy leaned his head on Lucien's shoulder and did as he was told. He spent the rest of the flight sleeping as deeply as a log on his husband's shoulder.

"Mundy?" 

Eight hours later, the Aussie opened his eyes before realising that yes, the glasses were still there and he still couldn't see a thing… 

"Are you awake, mon amour?"

"Yeah… Did you sleep?"

"Un peu. Let me guide you out…"

[A bit.]

And then stairs and long walks and lifts, again and again until finally Lucien stopped and Mundy could feel the heat of the air outside of the airport. 

"We out?"

"Oui, we are." Lucien removes Mundy's earplugs. "Mundy?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you have any idea where you are?" 

Mundy listened carefully. Cars passing by, buses… He sniffed as it was the last sense he could use. 

"Doesn't smell of the seawater too much, so not somewhere along a coast…"

"Anything else?" 

"It's hotter than Paris so someplace south?"

"Indeed, it is further South from France altogether. Anything else?" 

"No, not really…"

"Mundy, there are two people in front of you. No, don't take your glasses off. Can you guess who came to the airport for you?"

"I don't even know where I am!"

"Fine, give me the cane now. Bien. And now, remove your glasses."

As he did so, Mundy's eyes snapped wide. 

"Bloody hell!"

"Welcome home, son." 

Mundy threw himself in his parents arms under Lucien's loving eyes. 

"Are we in Australia then?" 

"Oui, we are."

"Are we going home?" Mundy asked his parents.

"Well, Micky, your friend here told us you had something to tell us that was very important and that you should be the one deciding if you wanted to go home or stay somewhere else." Mundy's mother explained. She was a short lady, quite old but her face radiated kindness and benevolence at her son. 

"Oh, uh, what d'you want me to tell them, Lu'?" 

"Well, maybe tell them who I am." 

"You organised all this and you didn't tell them?!" 

"Non, I just said I was a dear friend of yours and that we worked together for Mann Co."

"Tell us, Micky." Mundy's father insisted as he put a hand on his son's shoulder. He was old too, which wasn't surprising. But he was tall and thin, and wore a pair of glasses. His hair had almost completely gone off his head and the few locks that remained were grey and white. 

"Well, I don't know how to say this… Mom, Dad, this is Lucien, I call him Lu'. He uh… He and I, we… I mean…"

"Oh my God! Congratulations, Micky!" Mundy's mother came to her son and wrapped her arms around his stomach, her son was so much taller than her!

"What? What is it?" Mundy's father asked. 

"Mike!" Mundy's mother answered. "Look at his hand, haven't you noticed?"

"Oh, bugger!" Mike's eyes went to Mundy's ring finger and it snapped in his head. "Congrats, son! Come here!" The embrace repeated. 

"But wait, Lu', you said you were takin' me to our honeymoon…?"

"It cannot be a honeymoon before you tell your parents about us." Lucien simply answered. "I know they count a lot for you and you have been missing them." 

"Oh, Lord…!" Mundy was panting, still looking keenly at his parents as he had missed them a lot. "But wait, what's the plan now?"

"I have a hotel room booked for us somewhere you will appreciate, but if you want to spend time with your parents first, it is up to you." Lucien said. 

"I'm quite tired actually…" Mundy turned to his parents. "D'you mind if I come and see ya tomorrow or somethin'? I just need a shower and some sleep." 

"Of course not, Micky." Mundy's mother said as she pushed herself to the tip of her toes and stroked his cheek. "You go and get your rest. And if it's your honeymoon, then you should think of you two first."

"And you're here in Australia now, son," Mike added, "so it'll be easy to see each other. Come with the mister tomorrow, we'll have a good chat and I'll ask your mum here to bake us somethin' nice."

"Mike, the doctor said you should watch your sugar…" Mundy's mother said. 

"Caroline, it's not for me, it's for Micky!" Mike winked at his son as if his wife couldn't see him and they all smiled. 

"Right, we'll leave you here. See you…!" Caroline concluded, as she hugged Mundy and Lucien before turning away. Mike shook their hands and left. 

Lucien and Mundy went to get a taxi and were on their way to the hotel Lucien had booked.

"You're a lunatic, Lu', an absolute mad bloke.” Mundy said to his husband.

"I love you too, Micky." Lucien answered, with a smirk. “I didn’t know you had a nickname.”

“Only my parents use it.”

“I shall not use it, don’t worry.”

“You could if you wanted.”

“Non.”

“Why?”

Lucien chuckled before answering. 

"I can't call you the same as your parents do. Besides, I don't like 'Micky'."

"Oh?" Mundy's disappointment was audible. 

"It sounds too English." Lucien added with a wink. 

"Pfff…" Mundy chuckled. 

The taxi stopped and Mundy exited it. He raised his head following the impressive column of glass windows of the building in front of him. 

"Woah… Is that the place?" Mundy's head was still looking up, his jaw open in awe. He removed his glasses as if to see better.

Meanwhile, the taxi driver had given them back their luggage and drove off, leaving the two men on the pavement. 

"Oui. This is the hotel, mon amour, why?" 

"It's bloody massive!"

"It's only the best I could find. Come along." Lucien started moving. 

"Uh-wait, the suitcase!" Mundy said and Lucien chuckled. He got closer to him and took him by the hand. Mundy blushed so hard he felt the sweat drip instantaneously. Lucien wasn't one to care about what people would say around him, the odd looks they would receive.

"Don't be ridiculous, mon chaton. Let's go."

[My kitten]

Mundy entered the hotel confused and dragged by his husband's hand. After stopping at the reception to get their keys, they hopped in a lift. Mundy wanted to talk to Lucien but the hotel employee in his red and golden uniform standing there with them prevented him from doing so. 

A few minutes later, they were finally in their room. 

"Lu'... What the hell is this…?" 

It wasn't a room at all. It was a suite. It was a house. It was a palace. 

"Their best suite." He simply answered with a smirk. 

Mundy took his time looking at every wall, every bit of ceiling and all the furniture. It was all extremely modern and classy. The colours were kept to black and white with touches of grey and beige. 

"Lu', what the hell is this place…?" Mundy repeated going in the bathroom and exiting again. 

Lucien observed him coming and going, a smile on his lips. 

"Mon amour, it will soon be dinner time. Are you hungry?" 

[My love]

"I… I don't know…" Mundy pushed the two doors for the living room and gasped. 

"What the-?!"

Lucien walked behind him and stopped next to him. 

"You like the view? We are on the last floor of the hotel." Lucien took Mundy's hand in his and they walked to the windows. Well, the entire wall on that side was windowed, such that they could enjoy the sight of the entire city in front of them. 

"It's bloody gorgeous…" Mundy put his fingertips on the glass. 

The sky was getting darker but the line at the horizon was still shyly golden. Lucien snuggled against his husband, and Mundy wrapped an arm around him. 

"So, how do you like this surprise trip so far?" Lucien asked. 

"Look luv', it's… It's just wild… It's a lot to take in… Two days ago I was still single. Now I'm married and on the other face of Earth, at the top of the tallest building I've ever been on…"

"You are forgetting the time I took you to dinner in the Tour Eiffel." 

"Ah, was it higher?" 

"Not the restaurant, but when we took the lift and went at the very top, oui, we were higher than this." 

"Ah, I see… But still, it's a lot to take in." 

"May I make a suggestion, to soothe your nerves?" Lucien looked up and Mundy nodded. 

"Yeah, sure." 

"What about a warm bath together?"

Mundy's shoulders sank as even the thought of it made him relax.

"Yeah, that'd be good I think." 

Lucien turned on his heels and a few seconds after, Mundy could hear the water running. 

"Still in front of the window?"

Mundy turned and saw his husband next to him, wearing nothing but a red bath robe. 

"Yeah, I got lost in thought a bit, sorry." 

Lucien smiled. That was always a side of Mundy that he had liked, the daydreamer, the young boy who used to watch the stars at night and grew up to still watch his surroundings with the same innocence, the same naivety.

"Here, go and get yourself comfortable." Lucien handed him his bathrobe. "I'll be in the bath waiting, d'accord?"

[Alright?]

"Right." 

Lucien headed back to the bathroom. The water had risen to a reasonable level. He touched it and the temperature was delicious, if slightly hot, but it would cool down, so that was perfect. The red robe slid to the floor and he slipped in.

Soon, the door opened again. 

"Oh, wow… You can't just prepare a simple bath, can you?" Mundy asked with a smile.

"It is simple. A few candles, bubbles, a few rose petals… What is hard in this? Now please, turn the light off and join me. I have missed you terribly."

Mundy flipped the switch off. 

"You've missed me? I haven't been away for long…" His bathrobe slid down and Mundy almost heard his husband gasp in anticipation. 

"It felt too long. Come here." 

Mundy slipped in the water, delicately breaching through the foam of scented bubbles and sat between his husband's legs, leaning his back on Lucien's chest. 

"Water's hot." He said. 

"Too hot?" 

"Nah, you're too hot, luv'." 

Lucien smirked. 

"So are you… Hmmm…" Lucien purred as he closed his eyes to enjoy the embrace with his husband.

"Lu'?"

"Hm?" 

"Thanks."

"For what?" 

"All this." 

"It's our honeymoon, it's thanks to us that this is happening. Don't thank just me." Lucien answered as his hands slithered around Mundy's torso, hugging him dearly. 

"Hmmm… Still, luv'... You're amazing."

Lucien smiled. He knew he was the type to spoil his lover and it was all the more so true with his now husband. He let his hands roam on Mundy's sides, his chest, through the thick short hairs there, underwater. He felt his chest rise and fall slower and more amply. Mundy took Lucien's left hand and guided it to his mouth. He kissed his knuckles almost reverently, his eyes closed for each little proof of affection. Lucien's head lolled back and rested on the edge of the bath. He was drowning in the delicateness of Mundy's pecks.

"Oh, Mundy…" He cooed.

Mundy slid his strong fingers between Lucien’s and let their hands sink through the bubbles and underwater again. 

"Love, I… Your hands… If you continue…" 

Mundy was struggling to speak. Lucien's right hand was caressing his thighs, his inner thighs, and it tickled him in a way that didn't fail to arouse him. The Frenchman was also lapping gently at Mundy's neck, on the side, and he felt the Aussie clench his hold on his left hand. 

"What will happen if I continue…?" Lucien whispered right in Mundy's ear and left a peck on the shell of his ear. Mundy rasped.

"L-love… You turn me-a-ah..."

Lucien snickered evilly as his hand closed between Mundy's thighs. The Aussie's breath broke out of any sync as he frowned, struggling against a body that started to betray how he craved more of his husband. 

"Let us dry ourselves and move to the bedroom, mon loup…"

[My wolf…]

The Australian night was spent very hotly, sweat dripping off of them as they threw away all the bed covers. The night was hot, they were steaming and they couldn't have dreamt of a better way to spend their honeymoon, clawing into each other's skins.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 42

The dress was a buttercup yellow with white rimmed sleeves that dragged on the floor. Nenani stood very still as Lolly carefully pinned the dress in several places to get the fit just right. Her mother stood to the side, watching with an odd mixture of emotions.

“You look beautiful, Nenani,” she said. But there was something in her eyes that made her look sad.

“The sleeves are so long,” Nenani said, tilting her head to look at Lolly and flapping her arms. “I look like a bird...”

“It’s the fashion right now,” Lolly said with a suppressed grin. “All the ladies at court are wearing them long. You will be turning heads when they see you.”

“Why do I need to be turning heads?” Nenani asked, feeling nervous. After her talk with Jae and Farris about the upcoming dinner, she was beginning to have serious reservations about the whole ordeal.

“Because you’re going to a dance,” her mother told her straight faced. “And it’s better to go wearing the proper shoes.”

Giving her mother a befuddled tilt of the head, Nenani asked, “Huh?”

“This dinner will be our first introduction to the Vhasshalan court in an official capacity,” Oira told her. “It would be better to make a good impression. And clothes are the first thing they will see. Well, aside from us being human that is. People at court have a certain capacity to be shallow and cruel. It was true in Silvaara and it’s true here in Vhasshal. We have to present to them a carefully painted picture so we can’t give them anything that might come back to haunt us later.”

Nenani looked up at Lolly with an anxious look. “I don’t think I want to go...”

“Don’t fret, Nenani,” Lolly told her gently. “All you need to do is stand there and look pretty. His majesty and your mother with handle everything else.”

As Lolly finished the fitting, Nenani could not strike the feeling from her mind that she was not going to enjoy any of it.

…………………………………………………..

It was a little awkward carrying her dagger and the roll of leather, but even as Jae asked for the fifth time if she needed help carrying anything, she assured him she was fine. But as they rounded the edge of the guard barracks and made their way to the smithy, Nenani turned to stared at Jae as he walked beside her, noting the bottle in his hand. When he looked over and saw her staring, his brow furrowed. “What?”

“I thought you were going to get rid of that,” she said, pointing to bottle of whiskey.

“I am,” Jae replied with a dismissive shrug. “I’m givin’ it to Connar. To try and bribe him into making your belt for you. Not that I think he would refuse you. But a little bribery never hurt. Plus, it’s easier to give this away then just dump it.”

“I don’t understand how you could drink that stuff,” Nenani scrunched her nose up and adjusted the roll of leather under her one arm. “It smells terrible.”

“Wasn’t drinking it for the flavor,” Jae assured her. “But a lot of folks swear it’s the best tasting whiskey you can get. Keral’s famous for it.”

“Still smells bad.”

“Funnily enough,” Jae shot back with a smarmy grin. “So does Keral.”

In all her time living in Vhasshal, Nenani had met all the resident humans save for one; Connar. He was a metal and leather worker in the King’s smithy alongside his guardian, Hev. Another name Nenani was familiar with, but had no face to match it with. The metal medallion around her neck, Jae’s neck, and all other humans in the castle were all made by Connar. Ostensibly due their smaller size, the job was much more suited to human hands than a giant’s.  

And as they drew nearer to their destination, the steady beat of metal striking metal became more pronounced and there was a metallic bite to the air itself as though she could smell the forge in the smithy just as she could smell the ovens in the kitchens. But instead of crusty loaves of yeasted breads, the only thing being pulled from the mouth of Hev’s fiery forge were the glowing bars of heated metal.

The smithy was a wide squat structure more reminiscent of a barn than a proper workshop. There was no door, rather the whole front of the building was left open. Tables were strewn with tools and weapons of all kinds and all in varying states of manufacture or repair. There was a barrel off to one side filled to the brim with flat metal blanks in the vague shape of a sword, only waiting to be heated and shaped into their final form and given a hilt. The walls were filled as well with swords and daggers, axes of varying sizes from a small hatchet to an enormous battle ax. And then beneath all of it, Nenani could heard the great breathing bellows of the forge and waves of heat hit her face as they approached.

They passed under the shadow of the smithy’s interior and Nenani scanned the walls as they pushed inwards. So much metal and weaponry and leather. It reminded her of the first time she was taken into the kitchens where she saw all the knives and cleavers therein, but even that paled in comparison to the sheer number of blades hanging from the walls and laying atop tables.  

“It’s pretty nice coming here in the winter,” Jae told her. “Stays nice and warm. But the summer is just brutal.”

Nenani paused to look over at a mace casually leaning against the leg of the table, marveling at the idea that anyone could pick up something so lumbering and heavy. It looked like it would be a challenge even for a giant.

Beside her, Jae slipped the bottle of whiskey under his arm and cupped his hands around his mouth. “HELLOOOOO!”

From further into the space came a response. “Hello?”

Jae turned to her and grinned before yelling back, “Hello!”

A pause and then a confused sounding, “Hello who?”

“Hello you.”

“Hello me?”

“Yeah.”

Another pause and an amused response came back. “...Jae? Is that ye?”

The young man laughed and called back, “Yeah, its me.”

There was a series of clanks and the sound of something shuffling around the dirt floor before a giant head peaked out from behind a wall near the back of the room. He had a round pleasant face and a dark, short cut beard with streaks of grey. His long black hair had been pulled into a long queue and it swung out from behind him when he poked his head out. Large brown eyes stared at them and then there was a flash of white teeth. “Well so ye are!”

The rest of the giant’s body followed his head from around the wall and he walked with long legged strides over to the pair of humans. A dark leather apron covered him from his chest down to his shins with the tawny fabric of his sleeves rolled up over thick burly arms. Despite considering herself very well accustomed to giants by this point, Nenani could not quell the sudden nervous bubble that form inside her as he bore down on them. He was more broad shouldered than either Farris or Bart and perhaps even taller. He towered over them for only a moment before he dropped down to one knee, leaning forward even more to be closer to their level. His face and arms were deeply tanned and there was a faint dusting of metal shavings stuck to his face and beard.

“Been a while since yev been down this way,” he said to Jae with an easy smile. “Was startin’ to think ye didn’t like us no more.”

“Nah, nothing like that. Things have just been kind of...hectic?”

The giant threw his head back with a loud short bark of a laugh. “So I heard. Some nutter tried to kill ye? Threw ye off the roof was it? Must be goin’ up in the world if someone found ye important enough to try and assassinate, lad. I’d congratulate ye, but it sounds like it’s more a pain in the arse than anythin’.”

“Nah, no such luck. I was just collateral,” Jae replied, gesturing with his thumb to Nenani. “He was after this one. Hev, this is Nenani.”

The giant’s thick eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ah! So yer Farris’s lil’ squeaker? Ah, well, I suppose yer a Princess too, eh? Please excuse the state of me, yer grace. Always get a bit manky in the shop.”

“I’ll make you a deal. Don’t call me ‘princess’ or ‘your grace’ and I’ll forget everything else,” Nenani replied with a small smile.

“Oh?” Hev asked and then looked to Jae in confusion.

“She hates the titles,” he explained. “Best to just drop them.”

“Ah, well. I’ll try to do that, but forgive me if I slip once or twice. I don’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Is Connar about?” Jae asked, holding the bottle up with a grin. “We got a commission for him.”

Hev dipped his head and huffed in amusement before lifting up again with a nod. “Oh, sure. He’s just nappin’ over near the rag pile. Cold weather makes his leg ache, so he likes to build himself a lil’ nest over there. I’ll get ‘im fer ye.”

Hev pushed himself back onto his feet and after a few quick stride of his long legs, disappeared back behind the wall. His voice could be heard clearly enough. “Connar, ye up? Come on then, wake up. Oi! Ye lazy bum. Put yer shirt back on. How can ye be complainin’ about the cold when he ye haven’t even got yer damn shirt on? Now get dressed and try to pretend yer civilized fer all of a few minutes, eh? Ye got company.”

There was a fainter groan and then a curse. “Huh? Wait...Really?”

“Yeah, Farris’s ward’s is here t’see yer sorry arse. Y’know...the Princess?”

“The...Princess? Wait. What?! Ah, shit!”

Hev gave a loud laugh.

“Where’s my shirt? Hev, where’s my shirt?”

“How should I know?”

“Well, I put it there and now it’s gone!”

“I didn’t steal yer grimy little shirt. What’d I even use it fer?”

“I dunno. Hide it for a laugh?”

“Ah, not this time.”

“Dammit...I know I had it...”

“...ye check yer pants?”

“What?”

“I said did ye check yer pants?”

“...wha…? Why would I check my pants for my shirt?”

“Because it’s tucked into yer arse, ye fuckin’ dolt.”

“What? Oh! Hey! There it is!”

There was a pause and the Hev said in a contemplative tone, “Sometimes I wonder how ye ever managed to miss seein’ that trap. And sometimes, like now, I don’t wonder quite as much.”

“...fuck you, Hev.”

“Love ye too, lad,” Hev replied cheekily and then shouted back at Nenani and Jae. “OK, yer grace. He’s decent enough. Oh, sorry. Already forgot about the title thing. I mean...yeah, yer good to come on back.”

Nenani shot Jae a look of confused amusement and he just grinned back. Rounding the wall that Hev had disappeared behind, the floor dropped two steps and opened into a large round room with a cone shaped ceiling that ended in a sharp point. Flat openings near the pitch of the roof were opened to the outside, letting smoke and heat escape. The farthest wall from the entrance was dominated by a round bricked forge that, to Nenani’s eye, looked very much like one of Quinn’s ovens, only much much larger. Around the lip of the forge were long black metal poles. Some were nestled into the glowing coals or leaning against the forge itself. Off to the left side was a large bellows, sitting on the ground and positioned perfectly for a giant to step upon it with their foot to breath air into the fire. Next to that sat a giant black anvil with on large hammer resting upon it.

To the right of the forge was an open barrel of water and just beyond that was a large pile of rags, all colored black from soot and dirt and it was there that Hev stood, looking down at a human as they adjusted their shirt and quickly tried to force their messy mop of hair into something presentable.

When Nenani and Jae hoped the last step and down onto the dirt floor, Hev looked up at them and flash a grin. “Ye might need to forgive the state of this one’s dress as well. I’d say he’s just feelin’ under the weather, but...he never really looks any better than this.”

“Shut it you.”

Nenani found herself slightly taken aback when she finally laid eyes on Connar. She had expected an older man by the way everyone spoke of him, but he was surprisingly young. Older than Jae, but perhaps more Riley’s age. Perhaps even a bit older, but only just.

Connar was a lean, dark haired young man with thin gray eyes and his face was marked with faint white lines across his tanned skin. Old scars. His hands were similarly marked, but the most prominent feature of his person was the distinct absence of his left leg. In it’s place was a carved wooden replacement. From his left knee down, his leg was gone and he stood instead with a false one peaking out from the folded fabric of his gray trousers. However, instead of a plain round peg as Nenani had seen before on some sailors, Connar’s fake leg was carved as though to mimic the real leg he had lost. It had even been oiled and polished and he wore a shoe as well to match the one on his right foot.  

He must have seen her staring at it, because when she looked up to meet his eye, he wore a knowing expression. “Lost it to a snap trap a couple years back,” he explained. “Some fucker was pouching on the King’s land while I happened to be trespassing through it and snap! No more leg.”

Her eyes widened in horror at the prospect. “That’s terrible!”

“Oh it was,” Hev agree vehemently. “Lil’ fella almost bled out in my arms.”

“But you’re not here to listen to my sob story,” Connar said, waving a hand and looking down at the roll of leather under Nenani’s arms. “Have a project for me, your grace?”

Hev bent down and tapped Connar on the head.

“Ow!”

“She doesn’t like titles.”

“Fine! You just needed to say. Ugh, that hurt!”

“Ah, I didn’t get ye that bad.”

“Says you,” Connar shot back, rubbing his head and wincing. He shook off the pain and annoyance and turned his attention back to Nenani and Jae. “So, what’ve you got for me, your-not-grace?”

“Nonna gave me this,” she said, holding out the dagger. “And I was wondering if you could make me a belt for it.”

Connar reached out and took the dagger, pulling it from its sheath and inspected the blade. Holding it to the light, he turned his eyes to Nenani. “You’re Thorn?”

“On my father’s side. Yeah.”

His eyes drifted down to the amulet around her neck. “And what about that?”

“It’s a fire opal,” she explained. “It helps keep my magic from spilling out all at once so I don’t die.”

Above them, Hev grunted, his eyed wide. “That can happen?”

“Yep,” Jae answered for her. “Almost did.”

“Well, that would be bad,” Connar replied. His eyes lingered on the metal chain. “Might want to swap that chain though. The links are far too thin to be holding up something that heavy. It’s gonna bust loose if you’re not careful.”

Connar slipped the dagger back into its sheath and then inspected the leather work of it. He hummed appreciatively. “They’re well made. The metal is very good. The blade needs sharpening, but I don’t think they really sharpen these. They’re ceremonial if I’m remembering right. Can’t have little kids stabbing each other, I suppose.”

He handed it back to Nenani, but as she tried to reclaim the dagger, the roll of leather fell from her arms. Connar picked it up and let it unroll. Holding it up, he whistled. “This would do well for a nice belt. But, is that all you’re wanting? Just a belt? There’s a lot more material here.”

She shrugged. “What else could you do with it?”

Connar gave her a devilish grin. “Oh, so many things. Tell you what. If can trust me enough, go on and leave me this here leather and come back to see me in...oh, about two days? I’ll have something for you.”

She nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

Jae stepped up and held out the bottle to him. “Here. Something to sweeten the pot.”

Connar’s eyes lite up. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yeah,” Jae replied. “Promised Farris I’d keep away from it. So I’m back sucking lime flower leaves.”

Connar quickly rolled the leather back up and slipped it under his arm before eagerly grabbing up the bottle. “Well, that’s your loss,” he said and then looked back to Nenani. “Let me revise my previous statement. Come back in three days and I’ll have something you’ll absolutely love. And I’ll see about getting a better chain for your amulet too.”

“Thank you!” she said excitedly.

Conna held up the bottle. “No, thank you.”

………………………..

Despite the cold weather, the repairs on the west wing were coming along at an astonishing pace. All the broken roof tiles had been pulled off and the masonry underneath taken apart, stone by stone, and finally the fire damaged wood beams. Large new timbers had been delivered and installed to replace them and the masons were now laying back the foundation stones with fresh mortar. But as the giants worked, their craftsmanship was not the focus of Nenani and Jae’s fascination.

“How would it even have gotten there?”

“It must be part of the original structure. Like the tunnels.”

“You’re saying that the humans who built those tunnels would have also been the ones to build that?”

“Well, who else would have?”

“There’s no way!”

“They must have, though. Unless ancient Vhasshalans did.”

“It’s huge!”

“What? You don’t think humans can build big things? Have you ever seen castle Nethwyn? Well...I guess you haven’t. But’s it’s freaking huge too. The great hall was big enough to fit a hundred people and thirty giants comfortably. At least that’s what I always heard.”

From the vantage point of a high gable, Jae and Nenani stared down into the open wound of the west wing’s roof and at an enormous stone head that rose up from within the thick walls. It was nearly as tall as a giant and three times as wide. The damage done by the dragon’s attack had revealed it when work began on the repairs and more astonishing was that there seemed to be more the further down they went. The back of its head faced into the corridor and was the majority of what was visible while its face, still obscured by the outer stone wall, looked out into the valley.  

“I thought Warren was just having a laugh when he said they found a giant head in the wall,” Jae said. “Or that maybe I just understood what he was telling me. Yaesha had given me some potent tonics.”

“Do you think there’s more of them?” Nenani asked.

“Maybe,” he said lightly. “But seeing how dug in that one it, it might take another dragon attack for the others to be dug out.”

Nenani made a face. “I wonder if he’s gonna have them wall it back up.”

“Don’t know. Seems a pity to cover it back up again.”

“Yeah.”

A short silence fell between them.

“So,” Jae said, breaking the quite, and tilting his head to peer at her curiously. “You ready for your official debut at court?”

“No,” she replied, her eyes watching one of the workmen slather a trowel with mortar and place a vaguely square shaped stone into place and giving it a rapid tap with the butt of his trowel before turning back to his bucket and beginning the process again with the next stone. “But I’ll be there. I’m just gonna do what Lolly said and just...sit there and look pretty. I guess. The dress is pretty heavy so that might be all I can do anyway. Are you going?”

He sighed. “Warren asked me if I would come and I tried to make an excuse, but Rosanna answered for me. So I’m going. And she’s already picked out my clothes for me and everything. And I swear she’s deliberately choosing the doublets that are just constricting enough for me not to be able to have any free movement. It’s like what I imagine wearing a corset’s like.”

Nenani laughed. “She knows you better than you give her credit for.”

“I mean...it’s nice not having to look over my shoulder all the time, but really. She’s starting to act like she’s my mom. Just this morning for example! When I went to talk to Warren, she didn’t like how I combed my hair and then did it for me. And Warren had the biggest shit-eating grin. It’s been years since I’ve had the urge to hit him, but ugh...got really close then. Could have done with that arm of yours. Wouldn’t thrown my damn shoe at him.”

“Yale must be right, then,” Nenani giggled. “Maybe she’s practicing being a mommy on you.”

Jae glared at her with an unimpressed look.

“So, speaking of the dinner,” Nenani said, steering the conversation away from the subject of the Queen. “Do have any pointers for me? On what I should and shouldn’t do?”

“Oh sure,” Jae replied. “A warning: a lot of courtiers might try to mess with you.”

“Mess with me?” Nenani frowned. “How?”

“Nothing too bad. And I don’t think Eldherst will bother you. I’m gonna bet he’ll be pestering Warren about the armory again. I just mean a lot of the Lords in power now were there during the war and some still harbor...ill feelings towards humans. Though not overtly. They’re a lot more...subtle about it. One or two of the older ones just saw me as Warren’s pet when I first came. One of them even asked me once wear my leash was and why I wasn’t on it. Should’ve told Warren about it, but I was still a kid and just wanted to leave. But I told Keral the next day. Supposedly he crushed up a dried red dragon pepper and slipped it into the Lord’s snuff box.”

With a look of horror, Nenani put her hand to her nose. Her mind supplying the mental image of someone snorting even just a small bit of regular pepper sounded horribly painful. But her horror turned into giggles and Jae grinned with her.

“For you though, the one I’d look out for most is Lord Calem. Tallish guy. Always wears this hideous yellow coat and wears too much cologne. You’ll be able to smell him long before you see him.”

“Why? Does he not like humans?”

“No. Opposite in fact. He is...very friendly.”

She looked at him askance. “How...is that a bad thing?”

It was Jae’s turn to make a face. “He’s a well meaning, but totally condescending idiot with no sense of personal space. And when he drinks, he gets all...cuddly. Especially with humans. I’ll tolerate Kol’s nonsense to a point. He’s my friend. But not Colem. He’s one of the main reasons I stopped going to those things.”

“What?” she laughed.

“Yep. He’ll want to pet you. Like...a pet. Like a dog. After two glasses of wine, he’ll get all up in your face and try to pet on you,” Jae said with a grin and then shrugged. “And since you’re small and cute, better watch out.”

She blinked at Jae’s choice of words, feeling her face flush.

“What?” he asked, looking at her.

“Nothing,” she replied quickly.

“...serious. You all right? I mean, the guy’s annoying, but he’s no Thrist.”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“...you just...well...you called me cute.”

“Uh huh..?” He drawled, squinting at her and she felt the heat in her face increase and she turned away from him to try and hide it. He leaned into her field of vision, a single eyebrow raised. “You feeling okay?”

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Yup.”

“Because you’re red.”

“I’m fine.”

“Like...beet red.”

“I said I’m fine!”

He smirked at her suddenly. “Oh.”

“Shut up,” she snapped and rose to her feet, turning to the open window behind them and hoping down onto the table below.

Jae leaned over to peer at her. “But I didn’t say anything...”

She glared at him. “I said shut up!”

With a smug grin so reminiscent of Keral that she felt the very real urge to punch him, he said, “You...you don’t fancy me do you?”

“No!” Her fingers sparked as she slammed the window shut and then pulled the latch down for good measure.

“Hey!” Jae got to his feet and pushed at the window. “Open up! Geez, Nenani, I was just joking!”

Nenani pretended she couldn’t hear him as she carefully climbed down the table leg, too angry and mortified to feel any pride in having gotten down off of a table all on her own.

“Nenani! Come one!”

“There are other windows!” she called back as she rounded the corner to find the tunnel door.

....................................

BONUS ART: Oh look! It’s ol’ Hev. 

#Dumpling #G/t story #g/t #Giant/tiny #g/t fantasy story #Hev #Connar #Nenani #Jae #Lolly #Oira #g/t writing #Dumpling art

[here4theheartbreak]

Heaven in Your Arms (YoonMinSeok)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: YoonMinSeok (Hoseok x Jimin x Yoongi) Genre(s): smut, fluff

Rating: Explicit

Tags: polyamory, pwp, fluff, smut, getting together, first time, dirty talk, oral, rough, coming untouched, threesome, bottom!Jimin, switch!Yoongi, top!Hoseok

Summary: Jimin’s always had a crush on Hoseok and Yoongi. They’ll never notice. Until they do.

Word Count: ~3.8k

Hoseok stuck his head into the tent. “You two up?”

“Of course. Come in,” Jimin sat up on his cot, smiling brightly. Yoongi peeked out from his sleeping bag.

“Did you warn the crew?”

“Yeah – they know we’ll shut the camera off.” Hoseok stepped in and zipped the tent, setting a couple of bottles down before moving over to the camera. He waved before shutting it off. “Don’t need fans to see everything, eh?”

Yoongi snorted. “They wish. Get over here.” He sat up, kicking himself out of the sleeping bag.

Hoseok climbed onto the cot with him, their mouths meeting in a gentle kiss.

“You know, I can sleep with Jungkook tonight if you guys want to spend some time together,” Jimin offered, rubbing the back of his neck. He was happy for his friends, truly. Finding love with as busy as their lives had become was near impossible. But he was a little envious, if he was telling the truth.

“You don’t have to, I won’t sleep here. Just wanted to hang out with Yoongi a little,” Hoseok said. “You should stay. Turn on some music.”

Yoongi stepped over and grabbed the drinks, handing one to Jimin and Hoseok before settling back down on the cot. “This has been such a fun vacation,” Hoseok admitted. He bopped his head a little when Jimin turned on music on his phone, setting it on the floor of the tent between the cots.

“It has. It’s so beautiful here,” Jimin agreed.

“And I feel like everyone is pretty relaxed.”

“Namjoon-hyung’s a little tense,” Jimin admitted, and Yoongi nodded.

“I noticed. We should try to help him out when we can. He’s taking a lot of heat from the company to get our next album in order.”

“It’s a big deal, I get it. But he doesn’t need to do it all on his own,” Hoseok said.

“We’ll talk to him tomorrow. Find some time without cameras around,” Yoongi suggested. Jimin nodded in agreement.

The three grew silent, sipping their drinks and listening to the music. Jimin leaned back and looked up, letting himself relax. The night was silent save for the sound of their music, and he could see the moonlight filtering through the fabric of their tent. A quick glance over told him what he’d assumed; Hoseok and Yoongi had succumbed to their own needs for the moment, bodies pressed together as they shared deep kisses.

Jimin closed his eyes, beginning to sway to the music. Maybe someday he’d be as lucky as them. He had always harbored feelings for Hoseok, and for Yoongi, if he was being honest. Polyamorous, the internet had called it. Not like he would ever get to experience that feeling of fulfillment – not with his life. But maybe someday he could find someone as good as at least one of them. Someone that made him smile the way Yoongi did, or laugh the way Hoseok did. A man who got his heart racing the way those two did when they touched him or held him. A man who he could kiss the way they kissed each other, who had a soft mouth and firm hands, that could hold his own when Jimin had his moments, that Jimin could take care of and be taken care of equally. He let himself get lost in his own daydream, rising and beginning to dance in the small area between their cots.

With music, Jimin tended to forget everything else. The feeling of the beat through his bones and muscles, the way his body swayed, the feel of his hands on his hips, under his shirt, the tempo that licked his joints and urged them onward.

It wasn’t until Yoongi made that soft noise that Jimin remembered. He snapped his eyes open, still dancing, and smiled sheepishly at the two. They’d stopped kissing and were watching Jimin intently, their eyes dark.

“Should I go?” Jimin asked, stilling his body.

“Don’t stop,” Hoseok whispered. His voice had a lower, gritty tone to it. It went straight to Jimin’s stomach, knotting it and making him think far less than chaste thoughts about his best friend.

“Don’t you two want… A moment?”

Yoongi shook his head. “We were watching you.”

“Make it sound so dirty.” Jimin laughed a little, but continued to sway to the music. He kept his eyes open this time, watching the two.

They were focused entirely on him; their heads close together. Hoseok was rubbing Yoongi’s thigh in lazy, circular motions. Yoongi leaned over, whispering something Jimin couldn’t make out in Hoseok’s ear.

Hoseok rose, moving over to Jimin. He began to dance with him, and Jimin smiled sheepishly. They danced together all the time, there was no reason that this felt so intimate… Except for the way Hoseok was touching his stomach and hips, the intensity of his gaze. Jimin felt his own heart begin to pick up speed as the song ended and another began, something a little slower, a little deeper.

Hoseok leaned close to Jimin as he danced. “I know you think about us, Jimin.”

When Jimin tried to pull back, Hoseok wrapped an arm around his middle, holding him close. They were more grinding than dancing at this point, and Jimin was a bit concerned his heart was about to jump from his throat into the cool New Zealand air when Hoseok’s lips brushed over his ear. “You know, we want you too.”

Yoongi rose then, pressing himself against Hoseok and Jimin. Jimin gasped, meeting his dark gaze.

“You okay?”

Jimin shook his head no. “You—You’re together.”

“Mhm.”

“This isn’t—I can’t—”

Hoseok stepped back, as did Yoongi, giving Jimin a little breathing room. “Why not?” Yoongi asked.

“You two are so happy together. I couldn’t come between that. I didn’t mean to show it. My feelings. I was dealing with it. I would never – You two are family.”

“Jiminie,” Hoseok cooed. He stepped a little closer and grabbed Jimin’s hands. “We are family. And we are together. We have been for years. You think we haven’t seen the way you look at us? The way you’ve been suffering in silence so we’re happy? We don’t want that.”

“So—What?” Jimin asked, looking between the two.

“So… Think your heart’s big enough for two?” Yoongi asked softly.

The silence stretched between the three, broken only by the quiet music on his phone, the distant noise of other campers, and the soft scratch when the wind brushed the tent. Hoseok and Yoongi waited as Jimin looked between them. He was waiting for the punch line, the laugh, something. When it didn’t come, he reached out, touching Hoseok’s cheek, and then Yoongi’s.

“Please don’t be teasing,” he finally whispered.

“We weren’t planning on bringing it up here, but… This is something we’ve been discussing,” Hoseok said.

“You deserve to be happy too. And we—We can make you happy, we think,” Yoongi said.

“Both of you. And… Me?”

The two nodded. Jimin sagged a little, laughing breathlessly. Hoseok wrapped his arms around him, grinning. “You gonna make it?”

“Only if you both kiss me this very second.”

Hoseok laughed then. He pulled Jimin closer, brushing his mouth playfully over Jimin’s parted lips. Jimin groaned and grabbed the back of his neck, pushing their mouths together harder. He reached out with his free hand, grabbing for Yoongi as his tongue brushed over Hoseok’s bottom lip. He pulled back and turned enough for Yoongi to move forward, their mouths meeting in a kiss just as desperate. Hoseok planted kisses against Jimin’s neck as he kissed Yoongi, their bodies pressed together as they stood in the middle of the tent.

Back and forth, Jimin shared kisses with each, pulling back to let them kiss one another every few moments. His entire body was on fire, warm despite the cool air. He needed more – and he could feel that they did as well, their bodies firm against his own. He glanced at the cot.

“That won’t be comfortable for all of us,” he lamented.

“This will work.” Yoongi backed up and grabbed his sleeping back, unzipping it. He grabbed Jimin’s and did the same, laying them on the floor of the tent. Hoseok shoved the cot out of the way and nodded. “It will… But we don’t have to, Jimin—Don’t feel like you need to do more than this.”

“I’ve been fantasizing about this for years, hyung.”

Jimin stripped his jacket off, tossing it down to add more padding to the sleeping bag pile. Yoongi and Hoseok did the same. Jimin stretched out first, looking up at the two.

“Be right back,” Yoongi said. He hurried over to his bag while Hoseok stretched out next to Jimin, their mouths meeting again. Hoseok slid his hands over Jimin’s back and waist, grinding their hips together as they kissed. Jimin could feel his hardness through his pants, his own aching in the confines of his jeans. He whined, reaching down and cupping Hoseok’s cock.

“Don’t forget about me,” Yoongi grumbled with no venom, settling behind Jimin. He placed a little bottle of lube nearby. Jimin opened his mouth to speak, but it was lost in a gasp when Yoongi pushed his hips against his ass, letting Jimin feel just how needy he was.

Hoseok and Yoongi worked together to strip Jimin of his clothes as quickly as possible, laying over him and kissing him to quiet him and keep him warm in the cool air. Jimin struggled to grab for their clothes, whispering their names as their lips traced patterns over each inch of skin that was revealed. When Hoseok pressed a kiss to his cock, however, Jimin cried out, his hips snapping up.

“Please—”

“You’re so responsive,” Hoseok teased. He gripped his cock and stroked it firmly, laughing a little when Jimin writhed against their makeshift bedding.

“God, he’s gonna come so pretty for us,” Yoongi praised, tweaking Jimin’s nipple in his callused fingers.

“Hyung—” Jimin whined. He looked up at Yoongi, then down at Hoseok. “Please… I need you.”

“Which one of us?” Yoongi teased.

“Both.”

“Fuck.” Hoseok’s curse was almost a breath. He rose, dragging Yoongi to his feet before stripping out of his own clothing. Yoongi stripped as well. Jimin laid still, trying to take in every moment. They’d all been naked together before – it was inevitable living as close as they had for the past seven years. But this – this was new. He sat up when the two were in their boxers, reaching out and stroking them through the fabric. He had fantasized – sure, but having them both in front of him, so hard and willing – Jimin was entirely overwhelmed. He reached for Hoseok, then hesitated, reaching for Yoongi.

“It’s okay,” Yoongi said. He stroked his fingers through Jimin’s hair. “Just take your time. We’re both here.”

Jimin took a steadying breath at Yoongi’s words. He grabbed the hem of Hoseok’s boxers, pushing them down. The air pushed out of his chest when his cock sprang free, long and curved, as hard as could be. Jimin stroked it once gently, experimentally, and Hoseok hissed.

He moved to Yoongi, pushing his boxers down with a bit more determination, confidence building the further he went. Yoongi was just as long, but a bit thicker, the tip welling with precome the moment it was exposed.

Jimin took each in his hand, stroking gently. He placed a chaste kiss to Hoseok’s tip, then Yoongi’s, before wrapping his lips around Yoongi’s tip and sucking gently. Yoongi grunted, burying his fingers in Jimin’s hair.

“Gentle, hyung,” Hoseok warned.

Jimin pulled back, looking up at them. “He doesn’t have to be… Neither do you.” Jimin shifted, taking Hoseok into his mouth and sucking as well. Hoseok swore, setting a hand on the back of his neck.

He took turns, moving between the two with his mouth, sucking the one that he wasn’t giving attention to. His entire body was flushed and warm, the quiet moans and grunts of pleasure urging him on. Their fingers tensed and relaxed, their tones changed as he tried new things, learning their bodies for the first – but not the last – time.

It was Yoongi that pushed him back first. “Lay down for us. It’s our turn.”

Jimin obeyed, stretching out on his back. Hoseok and Yoongi shared a glance, seeming to speak without words. Yoongi sank to his elbows and knees, pushing Jimin’s legs apart and dragging him close. Jimin made a small noise, his cheeks beginning to burn when the reality hit him.

“You don’t have to,” he worried.

“Well how else will you be ready for us?” Yoongi asked, his gaze dark and playful. Jimin swallowed hard. Hoseok settled behind Yoongi.

“Don’t worry… He knows what he’s doing, baby. Hand me the lube.” Hoseok held his hand out. Jimin grabbed it, passing it down to him. He laid back, closing his eyes and breathing deep to relax.

“Have you never…” Yoongi’s voice was soft, unaccusatory. Jimin shook his head.

“No. I mean sex, sure. Girls and guys, I’ve... Topped. And my own fingers, but… Never… Another person like this.”

“Do you want to?”

Jimin hesitated for a moment, then looked at the two. He nodded. “I do. Be gentle at first, okay?”

“Of course. Tell me if you need me to stop,” Yoongi said, soothing his hand over Jimin’s stomach.

He dropped his head, planting kisses along the length of his cock before moving lower. He held Jimin open and brushed his tongue over his opening, dragging a surprised gasp from Jimin’s mouth.

Yoongi groaned contentedly then, and set to work, shifting between kitten licks and determined nudges. He used his fingers as well, nipping and kissing the tender skin of Jimin’s thighs and ass to distract from the insistent press of his digits. Jimin writhed under the attention, burying his fingers in Yoongi’s shaggy hair, his name a mantra as he begged for more.

When Jimin finally opened his eyes, he very nearly came from the sight alone. Yoongi was gazing up at him from between his legs, his muscles bulging as he worked two fingers into Jimin’s ass. His own ass was in the air, held open by Hoseok as he ate him out.

Yoongi chuckled against his thigh. “Like what you see?”

Jimin nodded, not trusting his voice.

“I’m so fucking hard,” Hoseok whined. He leaned back, laying his cock over Yoongi’s ass. Jimin whined.

“Aw, you want it?” Yoongi teased. “I think you’re ready... Who do you want first?”

“I don’t care,” Jimin panted.

Hoseok and Yoongi shifted, each moving so they were straddling one of Jimin’s legs. They stroked themselves lazily, looking down at Jimin like he was a dinner spread and they were starving.

Their attention shifted to one another, sharing an almost sweet kiss. “You go, Yoongi-hyung. You’re the eldest,” Hoseok said.

“I don’t have condoms,” Yoongi worried. “I could see if the crew—“

“Bare is good,” Jimin said a little too eagerly, his cheeks burning immediately. “I— I mean I know you’re clean, and... I don’t mind.”

“Want us to pull out?”

“No. The idea of someone coming in me...” He shrugged. “It’s a turn on.”

“Goddamnit, you’re perfect,” Yoongi mumbled. He leaned down and kissed Jimin’s mouth. “Just relax, let me know if it hurts.”

“Of course.”

Hoseok moved, letting Yoongi settle between his legs. He positioned himself behind Yoongi, kissing his shoulder. He reached around, slicking Yoongi’s cock for him.

“Make our Jimin feel good, hyung,” he murmured, lining them up. Yoongi gripped Jimin’s legs, letting Hoseok guide him in, nudging past his rim, stretching around the thick tip. All three gasped when Jimin’s body gave in, letting his tip slide home.

“There we go, gonna fuck him good, huh?” Hoseok praised. Yoongi groaned, letting his head fall back. He began to thrust gently, driving more of his cock in on each twitch of his hips.

Jimin whined and moaned, his back arching as Yoongi’s cock filled him. A deep, needy ache had settled into the pit of his stomach, desperation sparking like fire each thrust.

“Is it good?” He asked when Yoongi was able to pick up a steady pace, driving deep each time.

“So good,” Yoongi praised. “So fucking tight, I just wanna...” he grunted, shivering. “God, I wanna take you so hard, Jimin.”

“I can take it,” Jimin whispered. “I wanna make you both feel good.”

Yoongi pulled back slowly, hissing when his cock slipped free.

“Please—“ Jimin whispered. Hoseok took his place quickly though, and Jimin cried out when he was flipped onto his stomach.

Hoseok laid over him, pressing kisses to his shoulder. “Wanna be fucked, baby boy?” He asked. Jimin whined, nodding.

Hoseok lined up and drove in, laughing when Jimin screamed his name. “Too rough?” There was a teasing edge to his voice that had Jimin’s cock throbbing.

“Never,” Jimin panted.

“Good boy... Now suck our hyung’s cock.” Jimin looked up, meeting Yoongi’s gaze. He opened his mouth, letting Yoongi slide his cock over his tongue. He began to suck with vigor, his cries muffled as Hoseok began to snap his hips forward.

Jimin was jerked between the two, gagging on Yoongi’s cock each time Hoseok slammed in. His own cock ached, pinned under his belly, desperate for release. Hoseok’s teeth found his shoulder, biting a bruise as he fucked into him. Jimin pulled back, crying his name. He reached out, finding Hoseok’s hand. Their fingers twined, a gentle touch despite the rough moment.

Hoseok pulled free, holding Jimin open. He spat on his hole, whispering a soft praise.

“Yoongi-hyung... Come back here.”

Yoongi helped Jimin onto his knees and kissed him deeply.

“My turn... I’m gonna come in you, okay?”

Jimin grinned crookedly, nodding.

“You come whenever you need to.”

He moved back and the two settled Jimin back onto his back. Yoongi slid back in, moaning softly.

Hoseok laid next to him, lazily making out with him as Yoongi began to thrust.

Their tongues brushed together, fingers twined even as Jimin whimpered for Yoongi, his cock leaking onto his belly. Hoseok pulled back, brushing his hair out of his face. “Look so pretty, Jiminie. Gonna come so nice for us.”

“Please—“ Jimin kissed him again.

“I know. Yoongi-hyung will take care of you, baby. I’m gonna go take care of him now.”

Hoseok rose and settled behind Yoongi, slicking his cock. Yoongi slowed his thrusts, meeting Jimin’s gaze. He moaned soft, low and drawn out as Hoseok pressed into him, and Jimin felt his heart skip a beat. He’d never seen a more beautiful expression on Yoongi’s face. He leaned up, kissing Yoongi hard.

The three moved together, guided by Hoseok’s thrusts. Yoongi held tight to Jimin and Jimin writhed under him, watching both move above him. He was fighting his climax, not wanting this to end.

Ultimately, it was Yoongi that came first. His cock began to twitch hard against Jimin’s inner walls, and he gasped. Hoseok swore, his own hips twitching.

Jimin stroked over his back, moaning soft praises as he was filled for the first time.

Yoongi pulled his softening cock out gently, and Jimin whined.

“Don’t worry, baby. We won’t leave you hanging,” Hoseok assured him. He helped Yoongi settle next to Jimin before taking his place and sliding into Jimin’s used ass. He picked up a deep, hard pace, dragging a moan out of Jimin.

Yoongi grabbed his hand, kissing his shoulder lazily as the two chased their orgasms. Jimin threw his head back, gripping Yoongi’s hand hard. His ass clenched around Hoseok’s cock as he came, spilling hot and thick ropes onto his stomach. Hoseok swore, his thrusts becoming erratic at the sudden tightness. He came while Jimin was still in the throes of his orgasm, the steady throb of his cock against Jimin’s prostate dragging the pleasure on further.

Hoseok barely shifted enough to flop next to Jimin, looking just as boneless as Jimin felt. His entire body felt loose and relaxed, and he wasn’t sure he could move even if he wanted to. He reached out his free hand, finding Hoseok’s and twining their fingers.

“You were amazing,” Yoongi whispered, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin grinned, not even bothering to hide the way the compliment made him swell with pride.

“It felt so good, I— I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted.

“Say we’ll do it again,” Hoseok said. “Say you’ll be our boyfriend.”

“What? Yes, of course,” Jimin laughed a little. “Do you even have to ask?” He kissed each of them gently, his heart pounding a mile a minute. He had dreamed this would happen someday, with someone comparable… But he got his wish. He got the men he’d longed for for so many years; they were his. He was theirs.

Hoseok groaned softly, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I have to go back to the camper.”

“Do you? Can’t you just make up some reason you stayed in our tent?”

“Nah, I promised the crew I’d go back.”

“Cuddle with us a while more,” Jimin asked.

Yoongi rose slowly, groaning. “Let me clean us up first.” He padded over to his bag, digging out a packet of wet wipes to clean off their bodies before a shower became a complete necessity. When he was finished, he flopped back down, snuggling up against Jimin’s side. “He’s gotta go but you’re sleeping with me,” he buried his face in Jimin’s neck, making Jimin laugh and shove him playfully.

“Sure, but when the camera goes back on we should probably be in our own cots.”

“No fun.”

Hoseok and Yoongi both chuckled. Jimin sighed. “Will we tell the others?”

“Of course. No need to hide it.”

“They’ll understand.”

Jimin nodded. “I know but… What if someone else finds out?”

“Hobi and I managed to hide it this long. We’ll do just fine, Jimin. No need to worry.”

Jimin smiled a little, shifting to rest his head on Hoseok’s shoulder. He took Yoongi’s hand, rubbing small circles on his palm. “You guys really chose me.”

“Of course we did, Jimin… We’re sorry it took us so long,” Hoseok said. He kissed Jimin’s forehead. “But we have plenty of time to make up for it.”

“It’s a dream come true.”

“You know, for us too,” Yoongi said. “We’ve talked about asking you for a while, but we were worried you’d say no, or your crush was fleeting or you liked one but not the other… Knowing you want us both… You care for us both… This is heaven for us, Jimin.”

Jimin felt his heart clench. Yoongi was a man of few words – they all knew that. To hear him be so open, to not only agree with Hoseok but admit such a personal thing. Jimin closed his eyes, cuddling deeper into the warm cocoon of his boyfriends. His family. He knew they would make it work, one way or another. Hoseok had been right, they had plenty of time… And Yoongi had never spoken truer words. This had to be what heaven felt like.

#bangtanxm #bangtanarmynet #thebtstown #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #btsguild #bangtanhq #kwritersworldnet #armiesnet #btswriterscollective #yoonminseok #sopemin #hoseok x jimin x yoongi #smut #bottom!jimin #switch!yoongi #top!hoseok #mxmxm

[friendlyfrat-boy]

The Straw-Hat Among Us

A One Piece/Among Us crossover starring:

Usopp, Shanks, Buggy, Kizaru, Teach, Zoro, Marco, Caesar, Doflamingo and Smoker

Chapter One:

Cyan, Marco the Phoenix

Two, to be precise. Marco didn’t know who they were, but he knew they were among them. And, as Chief of this expedition, it was his duty to inform his comrades that they weren’t alone any longer. Hence, he headed to the meeting room, situated just above the Admin room, flicked off the clear plastic protection and pressed the large red button.

Five minutes later, and all members of the Polus Expedition had gathered. Marco had never seen their faces, didn’t know their names, and that was all according to protocol.

Having their lives threatened by a pair of imposters was not.

Marco pressed a few buttons on the side of his cyan helmet and popped the whole thing off, revealing his yellow hair and tired face. The collected members all swayed, casting anxious glances at each other. After all, their Chief had just broken protocol and revealed his face. “-I am aware that I am committing a grave sin, likewise, I have a grave reason for doing so.” Marco let his eyes bore into the assorted members. “We have two imposters among us. Two inhuman threats masquerading as our very own crewmates.”

The rather short person in the orange suit, known only as “Orange” shivered and swayed at the accusation. Marco chose to ignore it.

“-My name is Marco, and I am the Chief of this Exploration.” He turned to the man beside him, a large fellow in a black suit. “Go on, Black.”

The man shook his head, but quickly relented, popping the circular helmet off. He had a broad, stubbled face, tanned and shabby with curly hair that matted to his forehead. “-’Name’s Teach. Marshall D. Teach. I work with stabalizin’ the seismic activity ‘round here.” Teach crossed his arms, the rubbery fabric squishing together. “Now, mind tellin’ me what the Hell you’re on about?”

Marco did not, in fact, tell Teach what the Hell he was on about. He met the eyes of Yellow, and nodded for him to reveal himself as well. He did so without the slightest fuzz.

“Ohh, uhhhh, hi! Nice to meet youuuuu, I’m Borsalino but all my friends call me Kizaruuu~” he said in the most drawling voice that Marco had ever heard. With a lazy grin on his face and a pair of squinted eyes, Kizaru gave off the impression that he was not quite a man to be trusted, neither was he entirely suspicious. More of the high sort. “Oh, and, uhh, I work in the Securityyyy.”

White had already removed his helmet before Marco even looked at him. “The name’s Smoker. I’m the one making sure we can go without our helmets inside the facility.” In other words, he worked in ventilation. Before Marco called for this meeting, he actually went ahead and told White about this, telling him to make sure the air inside was absolutely breathable. Though, that didn’t quite explain why he was smoking two cigars. Inside his helmet.

Purple squirmed a bit under Marco’s stern gaze before reluctantly revealing his face. “I don’t trust any of this! You haven’t even told us what’s going on!”

Sure, Marco could easily argue that he had, in fact, explained the situation, but it was still far from clear. Not that he truly understood the situation himself. So, Marco surveyed Purple. His hair was long and black, standing in complete contrast to his ghastly skin. If it wasn’t for his oddly-coloured purple lipstick, one might assume he was already in rigor mortis.

“Alright. As odd as it may seem, we do actually have protocol for this situation, as it has happened once before. The survivors reported that the imposters, which could be any one of us, are looking to end us from within, whether it be through deception or murder. Our only option for getting rid of these and surviving is to find the two imposters and kill them before they kill us. Therefore, we require great honesty, courage and rationality. We will not be suspecting each other without basis, and assuming someone is an imposter on account of lackluster evidence will only divide us further.”

“What’s the protocol, exactly?” Smoker asked.

Marco scratched his head. “There isn’t much. Stick together, but continue with your tasks. Make sure to keep an eye on your fellow crewmates, whether it be for their protection or your own. If you find a body, which you very well might, report it and we will all meet here to discuss the leads or see if anybody witnessed anything.” He turned back to Purple. “Now, name and occupation?”

Purple huffed. “Caesar Clown. Scientist.” Marco nodded, happy with the answer. Next one…

Pink removed his helmet, revealing a wide grin and a pair of sunglasses. How he’d been able to see in this darkness with those glasses only the Czar may know. “Imposters, eh? Interesting! Finally something happens!” After giving a cackle, Pink continued. “Donquixote Doflamingo. I’m the doctor aboard, of the medical sort!”

With that said, Doflamingo slapped Caesar’s back endearingly, and Marco could only assume it was a scientist thing. People like that were weird.

Next up… “Hold on, there can’t be TWO clowns!” As it turns out, Blue was also quite… clown-like, if that nose was anything to go by.

Caesar sputtered. “I-, I’m not a REAL clown! Unlike you, you big-nosed freak!”

“WHAT’S THAT YOU SHEEP-HORNED BASTARD!?”

“Hey, cool it! Don’t get in a twist already!” Marco said, stepping between the feuding pair. He looked the red-nosed clown up and down. “...And you are?”

“Buggy!” he said proudly. “Buggy D. Clown! I work in O2!”

Caesar’s eyes went wide. “B-, brother?...”

“No way, jerk!” Buggy said, bearing his fist threateningly. “I’d never be associated with a sheep-horned know-it-all like you!”

While those two went at each other, Red removed his helmet in turn. “I’m Shanks.” He smiled idly. “I’m the one who flew you all out here, and if I can get the Shuttle up and working again, I’ll gladly get you out of here as well.” Somehow, Marco could already trust he was a good fellow. There were only two more, namely Green and Orange.

Green had barely reacted to any of this, simply standing there with his arms crossed, so when he removed his helmet and revealed a tired, uncaring expression, Marco couldn’t honestly say he was any surprised. “Roronoa Zoro. Electrician.” His eyes were already suspicious, even though not a single person had done anything at this point. “And I don’t trust a single one of you.” Ah, there it is.

“N-, not even me?! Zoro, aren’t we buddies?” Orange mewled. Zoro took one look at him, taking in his round, innocent eyes, curly black hair, long nose…

“Oh! Usopp!” Zoro exclaimed, a smile overtaking his features before vanishing as soon as it appeared. “...No, I don’t trust you, either.” He frowned before glancing away. “If I can’t trust one of you, I can’t trust any of you. Sorry, Usopp.”

Orange, or Usopp, as his name apparently was, stuttered for a few moments, betrayed. “I-, um, uh…” Everybody was looking at him. “-Oh! I’m, well, I’m Usopp! I’m the botanist, even though there’s only one tree to tend to…” His anxious eyes glanced over the people collected, finally landing on Marco himself. “Uh-, um, Cyan-, no, Chief, can I have someone to go with? Just-, just for protection!”

Marco nodded. “Of course. Is there anyone else headed to the West Wing?” Two people, Kizaru and Buggy both raised their hands. “Great. You three will keep together. I assume the rest of you will return to your posts. I will wander about, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary.” There was a moment of tense silence. “Don’t worry,” Marco smiled slightly, “we’ll get through this, as long as we work together.”

And with that, the meeting ended.

Marco, along with Kizaru, Buggy, Usopp and Zoro went to the West Wing. Apparently, Zoro had some brief business there, what with the wires. Once they got inside, Kizaru quickly went to the security cameras, and Marco followed Buggy and Usopp to O2.

Marco watched them get settled down, Usopp tending to the tree while Buggy worked on other things in O2. “Y’know, this is a real special tree. It’s actually not a tree at all, but an oversized Special Bonsai. What? You haven’t heard of the Special Bonsais? Well, they’re these tiny trees that have been modified to absorb as much carbon dioxide as a regular sized tree. And this one has been specially grown to be big enough to both produce enough oxygen for the whole crew and-”

-And that’s where Marco stopped listening to Usopp rambling about trees. While leaving, in the company of Zoro (who had finished his work in West Wing by now), Marco found Teach squatting in the snow just outside.

“-Everything alright there, Teach?” Marco asked, fearlessly stepping closer to him.

The large man jerked at the sudden addressal, hopping up to stand on his both feet. “Oh! Um, nothing much, Chief. Just, um…”

And then Marco noticed the little snowman Teach had made in the snow. “...Got nothing to do?”

Teach scratched his neck. “Well, not really, but… it isn’t important! Bye!”

With that, Teach ran off into the dark. Marco put to mind that Teach ran towards the Central Building, but that shouldn’t matter much. It was a pretty cute snowman, but if he had work to do, he really should be working on it.

Zoro crossed his arms. “-I don’t trust him.”

Marco perked an eyebrow. “You don’t trust anybody.”

“Yeah, but…” Zoro gave Marco a look. “You really don’t think that wasn’t suspicious?”

Marco shrugged. “Not really, but I think I can see where you’re coming from.”

With that said and done, they headed for the Central Building, making sure to check inside the Storage just in case there was somebody there. It had been Zoro’s idea and Marco didn’t object to it. Before they got to the Central Building, however, Marco remembered a certain somebody who should be in a certain place.

“Let’s head to the Shuttle.”

Zoro nodded, not questioning it in the least. He seemed like a clever enough fellow, although a bit too cautious for his own good.

Inside the Shuttle, they did actually find Shanks! Marco had almost expected him to be gone, but he was happy to see him, knowing he was clever enough. “Oh, hello there, Marco!” Shanks said with a grin, not afraid in the least. If Zoro was too cautious, Shanks might almost seem too lax. However, Marco could tell that he was anything but. Underneath that idle grin, a shark prowled.

“Everything going alright?” Marco asked, to which Shanks nodded.

“Certainly so! Why, Teach went by just the other minute, asked me the very same thing. A most agreeable fellow, wouldn’t you say?”

Before Zoro could say something rash, Marco answered in his place. “Oh, agreed. You should see the little snowman he made, absolutely adorable.”

Shanks nodded, and promised to check it out if he had the time. With that done, Zoro and Marco left once more and entered the East Wing through the Laboratory. The second they stepped inside, they heard something… interesting.

“I’m TELLING YOU, the smoke is bad for the ventilation! How can you possibly be a smoker WHILE WORKING WITH VENTILATION??” Caesar screeched at someone Marco could only assume was Smoker. Not that Caesar wasn’t correct about smoke being bad for the ventilation, but Smoker was in charge of it, not him.

“Hey, the worse the lungs, the better the insurance!” Doflamingo added unhelpfully.

Smoker gruffed. “It’s fine. I don’t got nobody to take out my insurance.”

Caesar huffed, something he seemed prone to doing. “FINE! Sure! Just fix it, okay? I need to boil these samples properly, and your disgusting smoke isn’t helping!”

This was the moment when Marco and Zoro entered the main part of the Laboratory, the one connected to the little Medbay and furthermore to the Disinfection area. “Everything alright?” Marco asked, taking in the scene. The people present were indeed Caesar, Smoker and Doflamingo, all standing around.

Doflamingo smiled. “Sure, sure, everything is perfectly alright! Nothing to see here. That is, unless Smokey here fixes things like he should.”

Smoker shrugged, heaving a toolbox on top of the counter covered in samples and liquids and things. “Let’s take a look here.” Caesar seemed just about ready to shout something at him for putting something dirty on top of the sanitized countertop, but he chose to keep silent. At least, that’s how Marco understood it.

A few minutes later and the ventilation worked properly, allowing Caesar to do whatever it is he was supposed to do. Marco nodded, and prepared to leave for the outside. He kind of wanted to find Teach again, since being out and about like that couldn’t possibly be safe, not for him, not for anything. “I’ll be leaving to find Teach, is everything going to be alright here?”

“I’ve got some wires to fix in the stalls,” Zoro reported, the unsaid message being that he wouldn’t be able to follow him.

Marco smiled softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. And the rest of you?”

Doflamingo and Caesar shared a glance. ““We’ll be in here.””

“I’m heading to the Sample room, I noticed the southern Disinfection seemed ineffective,” Smoker said.

Marco nodded, and left, striding into the dark outside with little fear. Snow littered the ground, falling in large tufts like frozen cotton. Although it was sub-zero, Marco’s suit easily protected him, keeping him warm and breathing and alive.

Darkness. Cold, silent darkness. Buildings loomed just out of sight, hidden by the falling snow.

The already fallen snow crunched under his feet, leaving little footprints in his wake. It felt hard to keep an eye open, even though his helmet defended him from the outside. Maybe walking out alone had been a bad idea? No, he’d be fine. The only one out and about other than himself should be Teach, and as long as Teach wasn’t it, he should be okay.

The shadows lurched. Marco crept around buildings, keeping himself out in the colds. After a while, almost too long, he finally found something.

A little snowman.

Along with a pair of almost-covered footprints. It seemed the falling snow had been covering them up, but… here they were.

Marco followed the footsteps, letting them lead him towards wherever their owner was, through and around and beside buildings, growing weaker the closer he came, fainter with every step he took, his pace quickened, growing faster and faster until he broke out into a sprint, desperate to know where Teach was, desperate to know he was alright, seeing an empty shadow of his black suit around every corner until, finally…

He stood by the pool of lava. His chest heaved. It was warm. So, so, very warm. It penetrated his suit. It was made for keeping heat in. Not out. If he fell in…

He swallowed.

It was okay, Teach was surely around here somewhere.

Marco glanced about, but he couldn’t even turn around before an arm clasped around his neck and a knife plunged into his chest.

The darkness took him.

#one piece #among us #fanfiction #smoker #usopp #kizaru #doflamingo #caesar #shanks #marco #buggy #zoro #marshall d. teach

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 17)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 5,800    

Section Content: fluff, flirting, angst, nightmare, PTSD, smut, R-rated language, all the sex

~~~~~

Dean had been merciful to her - or mean, depending on how you look at it - and kept his t-shirt and boxer briefs on when they prepped to share his bed. “Should grab you something in case you don’t want to sleep naked.” He offered. “I won’t talk you out of it, though.” Her heart almost exploded when he dug the red plaid flannel out of his closet. He remembered me mentioning that one. She could tell by the smirk on his face when their fingers glided over each other for the exchange.

She’d tugged off the skirt and kept on her panties. Once the shirt was buttoned over her chest she performed that age old magic trick and extracted her bra from the sleeve. He smiled, dipped into what was obviously his preferred side of the bed, and tapped the mattress. A stretched arm readied to cradle her. She curled in, careful not to hit him with a faceful of her hair which she’d normally have in a ponytail to sleep. I’ll give him this tonight, since he likes it down. He was the big spoon in this particular scenario, the other arm draped around her waist, locking her into position. She sighed. Just the right amount of warmth.

Her heart sped at the closeness. Anticipation built, expecting the inevitable exploration of her skin, curves, folds, wetness. She waited, trying to regulate the stilted breath. That’s when it happened.

Dean snored.

His heavy, steady breathing blew near her ear.  

Hero, yes. Superhero? Eh. Still falls asleep pretty quickly after an orgasm. Poor guy. It certainly took a lot out of him. A smile crept over her lips. God, his face was absolute perfection when he came. If a look can trigger ovulation, that did it.

She closed her eyes and took in the scents of the room along with sounds of Dean slumbering. The underlying spice and mix of whatever pheromone Dean gave off sleeping next to her was heady and made it hard to smell much else. Even his sweat is a turn-on. She focused to pick out the other odors layered beneath. Bourbon, leather, something metallic, and maybe gunpowder?

The desk lamp had been left on, forgotten. Her gaze returned to the tiny pictures on top of the simple oak dresser. She wanted to get a better look at his family in the morning. Wanted to ask why he never mentioned his mom. Nothing recent. Old pictures. Old memories. Old heartaches? Maybe she left a long time ago? Died? The thought made her heart ache for the little boy who looked so happy in his mom’s embrace.

She was on edge from having given him head, expecting Dean to finish what they’d started quite soon after. She was slippery and swollen between her legs. Julie always enjoyed that particular act; especially with Steve, who’d been fairly well-endowed himself. But, not as big or pretty as Dean’s. Never thought I’d call a penis pretty.

Dean adjusted, curled up even tighter against her. His dead weight leaned into her. The sounds of his breathing; the promise of him being inside her; they all made it difficult to drift off to sleep. But she did. Eventually.

Julie shifted the car into Park once she found a good spot in the shopping center lot. Ina had pointed out her own car down the row. Her forlorn expression from the passenger seat stared out the windshield. “He’s such a friendly boy. He’ll run to just about anyone willing to show him a lick of affection.”

“Don’t assume the worst. There could be a good samaritan who’s taking great care of him right now.”

Ina sighed. She was such a tiny, slim little thing, even shorter than Julie’s mom. The compact car seat she occupied appeared massive in comparison. “You’re right. And, it hasn’t even been a day yet since he got out of the yard.”

Julie unbuckled her belt. “Where did you say you live again?”

Ina wrapped a few strands of her long and shiny, raven-colored hair behind an ear. Her mocha brown complexion was flawless, ageless. Julie was curious as to how old she actually was. “Um, just down the road in Fairwind.”

“Nice neighborhood. I couldn’t find anything available when I was looking months ago.”

Ina only nodded.

Julie waited, expecting a dump of information. She’d only met this woman three times, but she’d been a flood of words the other two instances. When there was none, Julie cleared her throat. She had a busy day ahead. And a man she was dying to see later. “Well, how about you grab me some flyers so I can drop them off at a few places?”  

“Yep, I’ve got ‘em in the back seat.” Julie nodded, expecting her to exit, retrieve, and bring them back. All of a sudden, Ina burst into tears. Her narrow shoulders dropped forward and hands covered her face. “My Cocoa Bear.”

God, she was taking it really hard. Julie patted her on the shoulder. “It’s going to be alright, Ina. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car. Sooner we get them posted, the sooner you get him back home.”

She sniffled, stared at Julie, and nodded. “Okay.”

The day was sunny, warm and a tad humid. Julie shut her car door and followed Ina to her spot. A good workout would focus the tension and excitement she was battling within her mind. The night before had been restless. All she’d thought about was Dean, his hands, mouth, and that voice encouraging her to let go and whispering filthy promises before Cas showed up.

The chirp as Ina unlocked the car door melted Dean’s green eyes from Julie’s vision. Ina opened the back door and motioned to the seat. “Got a whole box full. Spent most of the morning at the copy store.” She was still sniffling. “Take as many as you want.”  

Julie smiled and leaned in. A strong whiff of incense hit her nose. The back seat was not the tidiest. She drifted back to being in Dean’s immaculate Baby the night before. She lifted the lid off the folder box and grabbed a handful. The black lab’s smiling, panting face stared back from the papers. “Cocoa certainly has a great mom.” The offhand comment left Julie’s lips as she pulled out of the car and turned back to face Ina.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.” Ina smiled and grabbed Julie’s wrist. The touch was strong and quite unexpected from the petite woman. A flash of blue filled in the black irises of Ina’s eyes. Julie shook her head. Maybe she was more exhausted than she thought. Her mouth opened at the strange henna colored markings emerging, pushing through Ina’s skin. She felt cold. A stinging. Like bees. “Such a help you’ve been, Julie.” Her eyes flashed electric again. “Hm. You’re going to taste so sweet.”

Julie woke, gasping for air in the low light. The arms wrapped tight around her were huge. Her heart pumped. She heard the snort behind her and slowly recognized the space.

Dean.

He stirred and grunted, pulled her closer. “Hm.” It was not a moan of concern. He sounded content.

What the hell was that shit?

“Jules?” His lips were by her ear now. “Okay?” His deep voice scratched out the question.

She nodded into the pillow, feeling his biceps clench under her neck. “Yeah. I’m good. This-this is nice.” She brushed the hairs along his forearm. “I’m... just going to go use the bathroom.”

He pecked at her neck. His head dropped back. “This is nice.” He affirmed in a far away voice. She slithered out from under his embrace and stood by the side of the bed, inspecting his relaxed face. Closed eyes, slightly parted lips. “Coming back?”

“Of course.” She whispered, frowning at the question. “Go back to sleep, Dean.”

“K.” He nudged his nose into the pillow. The sight made her heart ache. He looked peaceful, younger, cares washed away if only for a short while. She wondered how soft and still his cheeks and lips would feel then, not clenched in heated anticipation or want. He floated into his own dreamland. She wondered as she spotted his eyes tracking something under his lids. But she didn’t dare disturb. Something tells me you deserve all the good dreams, Dean Winchester.

Julie tiptoed out of the room, grabbing her phone off the desk before she left, and headed into the bathroom. She clicked on the overhead light, shut the door and sat on the toilet seat. Cool porcelain against the back of her thighs was reminiscent of Ina’s frigid grasp in her dream. Nightmare? Memory? What the hell was that? A shiver started at her shoulders and trickled down her spine. She sat up straight.

One of the way too long sleeves drooped over Julie’s hand. Bringing the fabric up to her nose, she inhaled the embedded Dean scent under the detergent. The inhales and exhales dragged out slow.

Her eyes took in the functional, clean surroundings of his nicely updated bathroom. Modern, smokey grey subway tiles, lined with a lighter grey grout, had been installed with care on the floor. Her toes dug into the cushioned powder blue rug that ran the length of the walk-in shower and ended in front of the throne. Actually a pretty comfy seat.

There were fancy chrome faucets and sprayers behind clear, pristine glass doors. Those doors were a pain to clean at the old house. I was always lazy about that. Got dull and filmy. But, these? Not a water spot to be spotted. Impressive. A veined grey and white marble shower interior looked sleek and expensive. A pedestal sink and rather large mirror resided next to a repurposed bookcase storing rows of plushy grey and white towels, toiletries and male necessities. She made a mental note of the cologne he wore. The robe on the door hook produced a grin. He’d look like Hugh Hefner in that.

I wonder if he did all these updates. If not, he paid someone a decent amount of cash to renovate and make it really nice. Was it in horrible condition when he moved in or is this a really important space for him? File that question away for later.  

The nosey inventorying of Dean’s bathroom had distracted her. She then realized she should probably pee and dropped her panties and situated for the task. Her hands grabbed the forgotten phone lying nearby on the tile. She rifled through messages. There had been a handful from Cat, who’d been checking up on her daily since finding out about the ordeal.

How you holdin’ up? Let me know if you want me to bring Sal and Pep by to run amok in your backyard.

I’m not sure if this is going to help… found something, I think, related to Dean.

Check in with me soon, K?

I think it’s important for you to have all the details.

Ciao Bella.

Her stomach flipped at the one line she read over and over. I’m not sure if this is going to help… found something, I think, related to Dean.

“No.” She whispered. “Shit.” She wanted to remain ignorant. Live in this fantasy space with him for a little longer. Reality was only going to complicate things and make her question everything.

Maybe, though… maybe this is fate intervening.

She groaned.

But, he’s hot and sweet and even makes grumpy sexy. Makes me laugh. Makes me feel safe. What details are going to change all of those inherently authentic things about him?

Maybe it’s something about his family. His mom. Could fit some pieces together.

A low rap on the door shot her head up. “Jules? You okay in there?”

“Y-yeah.” She squeaked out. “Why?”

“Been gone twenty minutes.”

Shit. She frowned, stood, and pulled her panties up. A quick flush and washing of hands followed.

Upon opening the door, a wary smile met her in the dark hallway. Dean leaned into the door frame and inspected her. “Your side of the bed was getting cold.”

She waved her phone, identifying it as the culprit. “Lost track of time.”

“Can’t sleep?” He stepped closer, hesitant. He’s feeling me out. Waiting to see if I’ll hit the panic button. “Do you want me to take you home, sweetheart? Maybe you’ll sleep better. This bed’s not the comfiest.” He sighed. “I miss my memory foam.”

“Do you want me to go home?” she asked.

“God, no.” His still not quite awake features frowned. “I haven’t slept that solid in forever.”

She grinned. “That’s not because of me. That’s because you waited weeks to do what you should have been doing.”

His face lit up at her lightened attitude. “You had a little something to do with it.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt right above Julie’s knees. “Come back to bed, baby.”

Julie swallowed down a moan. Reality can wait until tomorrow. She nodded.

That smile flashed. The one that gave her a front seat to all his pearly whites. He led the way back down the hall. Low light from the open bedroom door split right between his bowlegs. He was a bulk, wholesale package of muscles and strength. She laughed when he spun and flung his body on the bed, making the headboard creak and the mattress bounce. It took some seconds for the motion to subside.

“Are you trying to break it?”

He shrugged and smirked. “Just prepping it for the workout it’s going to get soon.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You really haven’t…”

He shook his head. “No one else’s been in this bed except for me… until now. And, you’ve got me fully believin’ there’s a lot more in store. Italians do do it better. At least this full-blooded Italian sex kitten standing right here in front of me does.” He waggled his eyebrows.

Even with the comical expression on his face, she managed to feel heat rush to her cheeks. “How do you know I’m full…” She shook her head and strolled to the bed, dropping onto the mattress with as much grace as she could muster. A suggestive scoot closer had him do the same. She leaned her head upon an elbow to match his positioning. “You’ve investigated my ancestry, too? What did you do, grab a DNA sample?”

His free hand cupped her jaw. He leaned in and licked her mouth open. “Both parents from Italy. That’s as far as I went. This is as close to banging Sophia Loren in her heyday as I’m gonna get.” Peridot eyes sparkled in the dim light. “Say something in Italian.”

She groaned. “I don’t speak it well. I mean, I’ve listened to my mom and dad speak it a ton growing up. But, it never really stuck up here.” She tapped the side of her forehead. “And, Sophia Loren, really?”

Dean shrugged. “Lots of Sunday afternoons in front of the television growing up. Plus, she was smokin’ hot.” The hand skirted over her neck and shoulder, along the curves and dips of her back to rest on an ass cheek. “Try. For me.” He pushed her body in to meet his, fingers squeezing the globe. “Please.”

She sighed and shut her lids. Electric pulses flowed at the feel of him everywhere they connected. He was tight and rigid. Hot and hard. Her eyes opened, drowning into those beautiful eyes, and then she whispered, “Che cosa vuoi?”

She watched his smile double in size. “What the hell does that mean?” An innocent wonder filled his face, in direct opposition of the clothed erection he rubbed into the slit of her thighs. “And say it again.”

She giggled and moaned at the same time. “It means what do you want? Che cosa vuoi?”

“Che cosa vuoi?” He repeated. The deep throttle in his voice strummed into her core. She bit her lip at how sexy the foreign words, though stilted and choppy, dripped from that luxurious mouth. Dean’s eyes narrowed in focus. A thumb swiped over her bottom lip. “How do you say ‘kiss you’?”

The apples of her cheeks rose. “Ti bacio.”

“Ti bacio.” He repeated that as well, planting a delicate kiss, cradling her jaw. “How about ‘be inside you’?” His brows did a quick double rise.

She moaned, flustered at the request. “I don’t know. Inside is ‘dentro’. I’ll work on my translations for next time.”

Using his bodyweight, Dean collapsed Julie onto her back in a second. Air whooshed out of her lungs. He’d tucked his forearms under her armpits, the crook of his elbows wedging in place. Strong hands emerged alongside and caged her face and forced her back to arch into him.  “Hm.” He licked her mouth. Her jaw dropped open at the way he manipulated and immobilized her head with those meaty fingers. The tongue swirled and dipped in the wetness of her mouth. “Dentro.” He mumbled. His ability to dominate and overpower ignited her skin. Lumberjack thighs parted her comparatively smaller ones. The boxer briefed cock rutted against her damp panties, wiggling into position and only increasing her fluid production.

“Dean…” She whispered.

Lips moved to her neck. His scruff burned like sandpaper against the skin. “Say my name again, sweetheart.” The words poured out hot and impatient.

“Dean.”

Dean groaned. He bit into the flesh along her collar bone. Julie gasped. Then, he sucked and worried at the same spot of skin with pursed lips and the tip of his tongue. All the while sliding his erection into the material along the folds of her pussy. He leaned up and locked eyes with her. Whatever air left in her lungs released at the raw, worn beauty of this man. “Really wanna be inside you, Jules.”

Hands she realized she’d been using to grip onto his back clenched the rippling muscles.

His lips parted, breath even. “Can we? Will you be alright?” He searched her face, she knew, for some hint of hesitance. “If it’s too soon after all of it…”

“Dean…”

His lids closed at hearing his name. “I don’t only mean what's happened recently. I mean, that’s its own bag of crap that no one, especially you, should have ever had to go through.” Eyes opened as he continued to dry hump her in the most amazing way, unhurried yet purposeful. “But, all of it… after Steve…” He sighed, relishing the feel as much as she was. “We could just keep it fun, simple, easy… just like this.”

“Surface level?” Julie questioned, gauging him now.

He smirked. “That’s your guaranteed best experience with me. No muss, no fuss.” In an instant, the carefree gesture washed away. “You want me to be honest with you. There’s a lot, Jules…”

Her lids pressed tight together. “I did say that, didn’t I? Can you be honest with me, then, in this moment, right here and now?”

His arms untangled from his stronghold. She felt the shift of his body, him pull away, leaning into the crook of her side now. Shit, why did I ask him that? “Yes.” The word came out sure, laced with heavy conviction.

Julie took a deep breath and opened her eyes. When his eyes met hers, he didn’t waver, waiting, hovering.

“Any plans on hurting me?” He raised a brow. She shook her head and tried not to laugh. “Besides kinky plans.”

A curl of a smile. “No. Of course not.”

“Are you scared about being honest with me?”

Dean shifted on his elbow, his eyes breaking contact.

That was an answer in and of itself, but Julie tried again. You don’t ask a man like Dean Winchester if he’s scared. “Worried?”

Dean’s finger played with one of her curls. He breathed in, then spoke on the release of air.  “My life was… is, still complicated. Not many people would be able to understand. Or, want to.”

She nodded, took the words time to settle around them. “Why’d you put your life at risk to search for me?”

“Aside from it being in my DNA?” His eyes drifted back and stared at her mouth. “I didn’t want to lose you. I just found you.”

She smiled. A stinging in her eyes threatened to release tears. But she batted them away with quick blinks. “That’s all the honesty I need for tonight, then.” Dean smiled. His eyes were glassy, too, and that made Julie’s heart stop for some seconds. Fingers reached up and stroked his jaw. “Maybe another question.”

Dean’s head dropped in a dramatic fashion. His brows crinkled and his eyes narrowed, accompanied by a hard stare. “One more, sweetheart.” The authoritative tone was back and Julie’s arousal returned.

“Who’s made you feel safe?” She asked, her voice trembling.

His head tilted at the question. A foreign mix of wonder and confusion spread over his face. “What do you mean?”

“Who, in your life, made you feel really safe?” She rephrased.

Dean did that mental rolodex thing she’d come to enjoy witnessing. His eyes darted away and his lips did a slight tuck back into his mouth. Julie’s stomach twisted at how long it took him to find an answer. But, she saw him come up with one. His lips popped back out. The right side of his mouth angled up. When he turned to her he stated, “Baby.”

At first, Julie thought he was calling her another term of endearment. The word finally connected in her brain to the subject matter. “Your car?”

He smiled.

Julie could feel the frown form on her lips. “What about your parents?”

“No, sweetheart.” His smile remained, though it appeared forced. “They tried. I know they did. And, maybe I felt safe before I could really remember what that was... when I was really little.” He shrugged. “Baby’s always been there. Made me feel safe. Made me feel like I had a home. Somewhere I could hide, ride.” Dean collapsed onto the mattress, on his back.

Julie shot up, leaned on an elbow to study his face. The moment was awkward, clumsy now. I’ve fucked it all up.

Dean shook his head and chuckled.

“What?”

“Sweetheart, no one’s ever asked me that before.” His lips tightened. He reached up and grasped the side of her neck. Fingers threaded into her hair, leading her face so he could study her again. “Why would you ask me that?”

Her mouth opened, then closed. “I-”

“Why would you care?” Dean interrupted. No malice in the tone. Only genuine curiosity.

That triggered a response. “Why wouldn’t I? You make me feel safe. I wanted to know a little about the person that made you feel the same way. Figure out how-” she bit her lip and tore away from his eyes.

“What?” He prodded, tilting his head on the mattress to catch her expression under the waves of cascading hair.

She struggled with the words. “Figure out how I can make you feel safe.”

His brows knit together.

“When I left this bed earlier, you asked me if I was coming back.”

That distant, unsure look flooded his face again. “That didn’t mean anything.”

She smiled. And pushed. “I’ll always come back, Dean. If that’s what you want, what will make you feel safe. You deserve that, same as everyone else.”

His green eyes widened.

Her whole body was on fire, staring back at him. It wasn’t arousal or want. She felt exposed, emotions laid out to be either scooped up or tossed away. It had not been in any way how she expected this night to turn. But, now, in the moment, it felt necessary, needed. “I’m sorry.”

Dean’s face hardened. His mouth opened a fraction. That tongue swiped the back of his bottom row of white teeth. “We done with the questions?” The hold on her neck released.

She sat up straight and tucked some hair behind an ear. Confusion flooded her brain. “Yeah.” He hopped off the bed and wandered around the mattress to his dresser. All she could stare at was the back of him, which in any other circumstance would be quite pleasant. But she wanted to garner something, anything from his expression.

A loud sigh left his mouth. “You really are something.” His head shook. The profile presented itself as he bent at the knees to rifle through his record collection. “I don’t get anything out of you for weeks and then you hit me like a ton of bricks with everything in less than a day.” Dean didn’t look over, kept his eyes on the albums. His jaw clenched when he found something, slid out the sleeve from its confines and pulled out a record. A confident twirl of the album between his hands as he rose, the sleeve forgotten on the floor.

The record rested on the turntable. A flip switched. There was crackle and static. The record spun. The speaker waited for the track to play. Dean turned and stared at Julie. He flipped her heart the way he had the album. “I was hoping to make this last. But, you’ve made that impossible now, Jules.” Arms rose over his head. Fingers tugged at the collar and he pulled the t-shirt off in an elegant peel. “I was thinking, maybe, I could hold out for a few songs. But, it’s probably only gonna be one. And, if it’s only gonna be one...” He pointed at the flannel she wore. “Take off my shirt.”

“What?”

His right eyebrow cocked. “You said you were done with questions.”

Her mouth dried up.

Finally, a smile returned. “And, don’t say you’re sorry to me. Not again.” He shook his head. “Not ever.” A stride filled with that Dean confidence made its way to the nightstand. Two fingers pulled open the drawer. He bent down and rummaged. The tap of a foil package hit the table’s surface. A knee closed the drawer.

Julie knew this was coming tonight. Had been hoping, praying even, that nothing else would prevent this from happening. The nerves, the fright, the reality of it had made her hesitate with a pool of muddy, emotional thoughts instead of pure passion and action. Then, when she thought she had fucked it all up, with the words and the estrogen induced interrogation, this complication of a beautiful man had gotten the train back on track. But even scarier, he now seemed to be all aboard with the idea of making this night mean so much more.

“Come over here, baby.” He patted the mattress in front of his standing figure.

Julie gulped and crawled over the mess of sheets and sat on the edge of the bed. Her head tilted up. He grabbed her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “So very pretty.” She thought he must have been commenting on how he looked, perfection in light and shadow. “Take it off.” The command was soft.    

Her hands found the buttons and did not spare any time to strip herself of the shirt.

His smile widened along with his eyes. “Eager, too, huh?”

She smiled.

“Good. I won’t feel so bad when this is over in minutes.” He tore the foil package open and put it back on the table. His fingertips delved into the hair at the top of her head, combed down through to end at the swell of her left breast. He pressed his warm palm right over her heart. “You know how you hear a song and you connect it to a specific memory?”

She nodded.

Dean licked his lips and catalogued every inch of her breasts with a stare that melted her insides. “I have lots of memories with this one song. All good, maybe even great. Someone might even say this song makes me feel safe.”

Julie swallowed.

“Wanna make me feel safe, sweetheart?” He grinned.

“Yes, Dean.” She didn’t hesitate in her response.

“Alright, then.” Dean broke eye contact and walked back to the record player. He cocked his head and smiled at Julie. “We’re gonna work on our night moves, baby.”

Dean could have said they were going to work on their taxes and Julie knew it would sound just as fucking sexy.

He dropped the needle in place and made a beeline toward her. A guitar strummed and filled the room. He dipped down, caught her lips with his open mouth. His arms wrapped her up, laid her down on the bed. Once again, the weight of him pressed against her side. She moaned when he rose up to his knees on the mattress, disconnecting. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties, and pulled them down past her hips. She brought her own knees up to assist. His lips mouthed to the lyrics as he removed the last of her clothing. Her lips tugged up at the show.

She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes ***

And points all her own sitting way up high

He tossed the panties to the floor and ran his hands up the length of her body, stopping to massage her breasts and give her nipples a slight twist. He mouthed the next line.

Way up firm and high

Julie giggled. He flopped down on his back, flesh of their arms rubbing, and without pomp or circumstance, pulled off his boxer briefs, singing along this time.

Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy

Out in the back seat of my '60 Chevy

Workin' on mysteries without any clues

He fell silent now. Turned to stare at Julie. He held the open condom wrapper between two fingers and raised his brows again. She nodded. A low growl bubbled up from his throat. Her eyes dipped down to watch him work his cock. She knew it wouldn’t take long. She wanted to speak, say something. Every other time he’d wanted to hear her voice. But this time is different.

And we'd steal away every chance we could

To the backroom, to the alley or the trusty woods

I used her, she used me

But neither one cared

We were gettin' our share

He rolled the condom over his erection. His body rolled between her waiting thighs. The dominance and power was gone from the way he hovered. He kissed her lips, slow and easy. His fingers slipped into her wetness. He moaned into her mouth and lubed up his sheathed erection with her want. Every cell sparked under her skin. The tip of him poking with insistence at her entrance.

Tryin' to lose the awkward teenage blues

Workin' on our night moves

And it was summertime

Sweet summertime summertime

All of the instruments stopped for a second, then resumed their rhythm. Dean searched Julie’s face again. It was all there in those apple green eyes. The request, the need, the want. He wanted to speak, too, she could sense it. But this time is different. He pushed inside her, slow and easy, letting her accept, adjust, and respond to him as Mr. Seger sang.

And oh the wonder

We felt the lightning

And we waited on the thunder

Waited on the thunder

He didn’t ask if she was ready. He didn’t need to. Because this time is different.

He pulled back, eased inside again. His forearms held his body up for part of the sway. But when he tunnelled back, nice and slow at first, the delicious friction of his chest ran along her hard nipples. This wasn’t going to take long. Because this time is different. His pace increased, breath fumed out of his nose, jaw clenched every time he bottomed into her fully.

Dean’s rhythm was quick and steady now, firm and prodding, as the song did the exact opposite and slowed in its reminiscence. Heat rose in her core. He grabbed one of her legs, propped it up to hook onto his hip. His eyes never left hers through any of it. He found that spot deep inside. And worked. Hard. She gasped at how he lit her up from within. Grabbed his shoulders and held on. While he worked.

I awoke last night to the sound of thunder

How far off I sat and wondered

Started humming a song from 1962

She wrapped her calf tight, draped it over the curve of his tight ass muscles. He was using all of himself, drilling into her now. The sound of wood creaking, mattress springs straining. Moans toppled and stacked atop each other.

Ain't it funny how the night moves

When you just don't seem to have as much to lose

Strange how the night moves

With autumn closing in

The music stopped again. Dean stilled, froze. His forehead leaned against hers. “Baby?” He whispered.

“Yes, Dean.”

“You feel so safe.”

He pulled back and she got lost in his eyes. Her heart lodged up into her throat. He nodded with a smile and exhaled, sharp and low, as the guitar started up again. His fingers snuck between their bodies, strummed her clit. And he worked. All of him. With her. This is different.

She studied every movement of his face. The vertical line that formed between his brow, deep in concentration. The little craters that appeared above either side of his top lip, embedding into laugh lines, when he quirked up his mouth. The flare of his nostrils. The look she tried to define in his crystal green eyes boring into her, shining like glass. He brought her to release and rode the wave. His moans enveloped hers. She clenched her walls, tightening around him.

The end of the song was near and so was Dean. His mouth opened, he struggled out a strangled groan, body rigid in her embrace. And he came. Hard. His body shivered. He grinned, kissed her lips, and rolled them both to their sides. Still. Connected. This is different.

The song ended. Quiet for a few moments before the next track began. Dean swiped at her cheek. Julie felt the wetness under the pad of his thumb. She was crying. Oh, no.

Dean smiled. Pulled her in close and held her. He kissed her forehead. She forced away the tears, slowed her breathing. “Tell me those are good tears, sweetheart.” He whispered in her ear.

She nodded along the scruff of his jaw.

Kisses dabbed at her damp cheeks. “Good. Because we just made one hell of an awesome memory.”

She smiled. He kissed the apple of her cheek.

He moaned, pulled out of her, then stood up. Naked and glorious. He rolled off the condom as he spoke and tied it up. “Gotta use the bathroom. Coming back.” He wandered to the doorway, then turned back to look at her with a wide grin. “Always coming back.”

*** Lyrics from Night Moves by Bob Seger

~~~~~

Part 18

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#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester smut #dean x ofc #spn fanfic #spnfanficpond #spn fanfic series #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fluff

[taintjisung]

[11:23] jeongchan

words: 2153

top: chan

kinks: public, punishment

happy birthday jeongin🥴🥴

“i’m not a baby!” jeongin insisted, as was the usual at this point. having just turned twenty officially, he was really overdoing it, literally wearing a nametag that read ‘hi, my name is ADULT’. chan scoffed as he finished pouring the younger orange juice, only for it to be immediately slapped out of his hand and onto the floor.

“i’m legal now!” jeongin defended. “and you offer me a CHILD’S drink!?”

chan was stunned for a moment, then shook the juice off his hand and pointed at the floor.

“clean it up.”

“no.”

“i said—“

“what are you gonna do, punish me?” jeongin cheekily smirked, and starting to get pissed from all the chaos jeongin had caused in just a few days, chan’s hands curled as he tried to keep them stable at his sides.

“y’know what? you think you’re an adult, i will punish you,” he growled, and a soft “uh, oh,” left jeongin’s lips as he backed up slightly. chan grabbed him by the hips, turning him up against the marble counter behind them, breathing down his neck.

“this is how we punish big boys, isn’t it?” he growled, snaking his hand under jeongin’s hemline and wrapping his fingers around his length. it was small and soft, and chan was more than excited to play with it. god, he was going to have fun with him.

jeongin didn’t seem to be complaining as he bucked his hips up into chan’s hand, biting his bottom lip to hold in his moans.

“then i’ll be naughty all the time,” jeongin spoke lowly, eyes darkening as he looked up at chan with a rather lewd look about his face.

chan ignored his comment, simply saying, “open,” sternly as he brought two fingers to jeongin’s lips. immediately jeongin opened his mouth, accepting his fingers onto his tongue and working his saliva around them, examining the taste. tasted sweet.

jeongin grabbed onto his wrist with both hands, looking up at him with big eyes as he worked his mouth almost expertly around his hand.

chan turned jeongin around and the boy happily complied, leaning over the counter and sticking his ass out for chan to see.

“was this why you were misbehaving? you wanted me to treat you like an adult?” chan spoke as he eased a salvia-coated digit into jeongin’s entrance.

“not in the kitchen,” he mumbled. “what if someone sees?”

“then they see,” chan shrugged, adding another finger as jeongin tensed around him. he let out soft grunts as chan began to work them gently in and out of him, stretching the space and massaging the sensitive ring of muscle.

by the time chan got to three fingers, though generous with his time, jeongin was entirely bent over the counter in front of him, moaning and rocking back onto his hand desperately as he mumbled his name.

“ch-chan, hyung, please.. fuck,” he panted, and chan moved his free hand to the boy’s throat.

“please what?”

“i don’t... i don’t know... fuck...” the words mindlessly tumbled from his lips, him tired and craving more. more he looked for himself, fucking himself onto chan’s hand and using his own hand to control his wrist, eyes growing red and heavy as he found the spot he was looking for, crying out and moaning ever so loudly.

“hush,” chan hissed, but jeongin didn’t listen, moaning louder and leaning back onto him.

chan heard a door close down the hall and immediately took his hand out of jeongin, calmly walking to the sink to wash his hands, not a single suspicious look on his face.

“oh, hey, jisung,” he greeted the younger who nodded back, otherwise ignoring the two in search of food.

jeongin grabbed chan’s hand, bringing it over the aching bulge in his pants, and chan squeezed and stroked him through the fabric, acting as if nothing about it was strange as to not alert jisung.

jeongin was nearly braindead, though, quiet begs melting into chan’s neck.

“please, fuck me,” he whispered, but chan didn’t budge easily. he watched jisung leave with a granola bar in his hand and pinned jeongin back against the counter, this time fingering him from the front. the heel of his palm cradled the boy’s balls, wrist touching his aching length, making him louder than before as he moaned, holding onto his forearm for stability.

“you’re so fucking loud,” chan hissed, and jeongin mumbled a lazy, “so good. want you to fuck me.”

“here in the kitchen?” chan teased to see how desperate jeongin was, and the boy nodded with a whiny hum, bringing chan to the other end of the counter where they would have the time to cover up if someone walked in again.

chan’s hand lingered on jeongin’s waist before he walked away, heading to his coat by the door. he drew out his wallet, opening it to peer inside, and produced a condom from the inside pocket before returning to jeongin.

“do you have—“

“it’s lubed up already, baby,” chan cooed, pulling his length out through the now undone zipper of his jeans and easing the condom over himself as he started to harden in his hand. he pulled jeongin’s pants down slightly, not wanting to expose him too much; it was just enough for him to push inside of him, which he did with ease, the boy now stretched out rather well.

jeongin took it obediently, letting out a strained grunt as he leant down over the counter again, feeling the cold marble on his bare skin where the hem of his shirt rode up. he noticed that chan was very gentle with him, went slowly as his strong hands grasped his waist, and leant into his touch, soft moans humming from his parted lips as warm shocks ran like water throughout his body.

chan wrapped his hand around jeongin’s neck and gently pressed down on either side, his breath coming close to his skin but never touching it.

jeongin rolled his hips, wanting to feel chan’s tip rub against every edge of his inside, to feel him as close as possible. pft, this wasn’t a punishment. this was a reward. chan just wanted an excuse to be inside of him.

footsteps came from the end of the hall, and chan smirked; this is where his punishment began. since he’d been on his toes to reach the top of jeongin’s long legs, he know rocked back onto his heels, bringing jeongin’s waist with him under the countertop to hide what they were doing from whomever was about to walk into view of them. chan wrapped his arms around jeongin, placing his chin on his shoulder.

“oh, hey,” changbin’s voice came as he appeared in the doorway, and smiled as he saw chan, well... to him, backhugging their youngest. “we’re gonna watch a movie in a bit, if you’re interested. woojin hyung should be back with snacks and slushies and stuff soon.”

“what movie?” chan asked, pushing jeongin further so that his hips were tightly pinned against the marble in front of him.

“blue valentine,” changbin smiled, swooning, and chan raised his eyebrows. “it’s a romance.”

“...that has a sex scene,” chan commented, but changbin shrugged.

“eh, probably nothing you haven’t seen before.”

chan just laughed the thought. “yeah, we’ll come.”

“great! meet us in the lounge in fifteen.”

as changbin left, chan leant down into jeongin’s neck to whisper dirty words down his spine.

“you want to watch that sex scene, don’t you?” he cooed. “with me? wanna watch it while you sit in my lap? feel my cock inside of you? hm?”

“mhm,” jeongin hummed in response, pushing back onto chan. “‘f i last that long.”

he bit his lip as chan released his arms from around him and brought his hands to his hips again, guiding him back and forth over his size. jeongin couldn’t help but moan, especially as chan’s cold hand snaked beneath his pants and wrapped around his length, stroking him with their rhythm. fifteen minutes passed like nothing, and jeongin was panting, grabbing at the counter in front of him and moaning so, so loudly.

“gonna cum, gonna,” he whimpered, but chan showed him his watch and gently pulled away, stuffing himself back into his jeans.

“we should meet them downstairs now,” he smirked.

“no, no, finish first.”

“don’t you dare cum,” chan eyed him. “come with me.”

he took jeongin’s hand and led him to the lift, making sure to stop to grab the comforter off his bed first. once they made it to the lounge, all seven eyes looked at them expectantly.

“we were waiting for you,” hyunjin scoffed. “hit play.”

seungmin rolled his eyes and did as he was told then cuddled up to the older, and felix hit the lights before moving back to snuggle with jisung. woojin was laid between changbin and minho which left jeongin and chan, and the younger of the two was silently begging the older to finish him, not caring that the other boys were right there.

“alright,” chan whispered against the shell of his ear. “then sit down. do as i told you we would do.”

as chan took himself back out from the fold in his pant fabric, jeongin checked that no one was looking before drawing down the hem of his own pants slightly and slowly sitting down onto chan.

chan slapped a hand over jeongin’s mouth as he threatened to make sound and wrapped the comforter around them, hands on his hips and helping him to rise and fall on his lap.

every time jeongin came close to finishing, chan held him solidly in place. with the elder stronger than him, jeongin couldn’t move at all with chan’s hands on his hips like that, and it was slowly starting to drive him crazy, now understanding what chan had meant by ‘punish’.

“please, hyung,” he leant back and spoke quietly against his jaw. “let me cum.”

“you’ll have to wait for the sex scene,” chan responded. “then i’ll get you off like we’re watching porn.”

jeongin whimpered and his hands curled into chan’s thighs beneath him as he tried to hold himself together. chan was buried so deep inside of him and he wanted so badly to move, but had to sit there and obediently cockwarm him like he wanted. he really didn’t have a choice — it was either chan’s way or no way.

he handled the short time until the sex scene, and chan brought his hands underneath the boy’s shirt.

“you’ve been waiting so patiently to see this, huh?” he whispered. “wanna finish riding me like a good boy?”

“uh huh,” jeongin nodded desperately, and chan loosened his grip on his waist, guiding him rather than controlling him. well, he had to control him as it started to feel good and the cute subby boy nearly forgot they weren’t alone — naturally, wanting to see jeongin’s reaction to such an adult scene, minho turned around with a fingertip against his lips, and seeing jeongin bouncing softly in chan’s lap he caught on. jeongin looked directly at him and smirked, and embarrassed, minho turned right back around.

“see, you’re not the only one turned on,” chan whispered quietly, gesturing to felix and jisung beneath the light switches. felix was looking at jisung’s face as jisung looked down at the hand that was gently snaking up his thigh — there was so much sexual tension in the room that it was getting harder and harder for jeongin to stay quiet.

“hyung, i’m gonna—“

“you’re gonna make a mess,” chan sternly responded. “get on the couch and i’ll finish you.”

jeongin obeyed and chan checked that no one was looking before ducking under the blanket to wrap his lips around jeongin’s head, and the boy finished almost immediately, chan swallowing every last drop.

“my turn,” he grinned, gesturing to himself, and jeongin, all tired and fucked out, barely had the energy. chan guided him, and he slid off his condom, replacing it with his mouth as he gently sank down onto him. chan wouldn’t admit how close he was before, but jeongin could tell now as he twitched, hot and excited against his warm tongue, more intense as he flattened his tongue against the head and dug it into the slit.

chan grabbed onto jeongin’s hair and forced him down, making him gag slightly as he swallowed all of him, too.

as jeongin came up for breath with messy hair, wiping a bit of cum from his face, he noticed all the boys were looking at him as hyunjin paused the movie.

“what?” chan scoffed. “you guys told me to punish him. i just did.”

[sarah-writes-stories]

Chapter 13: Pack

A Post-Canon Inuyasha Romance/Adventure Epic

Find it on: Fanfiction.net / AO3 / Wattpad

Words: 2,254

Prologue  •  Chapter 1  •  Chapter 2  •  Chapter 3  •  Chapter 4  •  Chapter 5  •  Chapter 6  •  Chapter 7  •  Chapter 8  •  Chapter 9  •  Chapter 10  •  Chapter 11  •  Chapter 12  •  Chapter 13

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

As Inuyasha and Kagome approached Miroku and Sango's home they were greeted by the familiar, staccato rhythm of axe meeting wood.

"What the heck?" Inuyasha seemed completely confounded by the sound coming from around the side of the house. He moved towards it rather than to the door.

"What's the matter?" Kagome questioned.

"I think Miroku's chopping wood."

"And?"

Rounding the corner they found Miroku standing beside a small pile of split logs. As he paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, Inuyasha used the momentary silence to call out to him.

"Oi, you musta been desperate if you resorted to chopping wood!"

Miroku looked up to see his friends approaching and laughed. "Well, well. Welcome, my friends. I am merely seeing to my husbandly duties."

Inuyasha snorted at that. "Husbandly duties that you usually avoid like the plague." Jerking his thumb in Miroku's direction Inuyasha turned to Kagome. "This lazy monk usually tries to get me to do his wood-chopping, or else will trade already-chopped wood for blessings and other monk stuff with the other villagers."

Miroku tried to look affronted, "Inuyasha, my friend, you wound me. Should I not receive compensation for my holy works?"

"Ha! And yet here you are, axe in hand. Did it work? Were you able to keep yer trap shut?"

"If you are inquiring as to whether or not I gave any of your secrets away to my lovely wife, then the answer is no." He smiled sheepishly before continuing, "I have been much too busy with very important, very loud work to do much talking, as you can see."

Kagome laughed at that. "Well, thank you for your valiant efforts, Miroku. But we're here now. Do you want to take a break and come inside with us?"

"Of course, Kagome, of course. What kind of host would I be if I ignored guests to my home?"

Inuyasha smirked at him, "Better to ignore your husbandly duties, eh, Monk?"

Miroku's eyebrows waggled suggestively when he answered, "I assure you, Inuyasha, my… ahem… husbandly duties are one thing that I never ignore."

Kagome was laughing at the two of them as they entered the house. "Kagome, there you are! What's so funny?" Sango asked.

Sango sat at a low table, sorting out what looked to be small packets of seeds, a sleeping Ichiro strapped to her back.

"Oh, you know," Kagome replied. "Just Miroku being Miroku." She smiled at her best friend.

"Ojisan! Ojisan! Up!" Aki came running from where she and Yuki had been playing in a sunny patch by the window. She launched herself at Inuyasha fully expecting him to catch her before she collided with him. He hoisted her up gently till she was at face level with him. "Hey there. You being a good girl for your Okaasan this morning?" Aki's eyes widened a little as she nodded solemnly at Inuyasha before breaking into a wide smile and hugging him around the neck.

"Chichiue, up me, too?" asked Yuki, joining them at a more leisurely pace. She waited for her father to lift her into his arms before putting her small head down on his shoulder.

Kagome watched the two men. They were two of the most fearsome warriors in the region, if not the country, and yet they held the sisters so gently that her heart clenched painfully watching them. She shook her head, eyes growing misty before whispering, "Look at us. Look at them. Did you ever think, back when we were hunting for shards, that we would ever actually make it to this?"

Sango came up behind her dearest friend, pulling her into a hug, her own eyes misting over at Kagome's words.

"Oh, don't get me started! If I think back too much…" She trailed off shaking her head. "But we're here now, and you must tell me. How was your first night back?"

Kagome glanced at Inuyasha, who glanced her way at the same time, a small smile on his face.

"It was… eventful… though I don't think I'll be staying at Kaede's again tonight." Kagome said with a small smile.

Sango pulled back from her friend's embrace to look at her face in question, "Oh, no?"

Kagome's small smile turned into a full-fledged smirk as she said, "Naw, I think I'd rather stay in my own hut with my husband-to-be."

"Your…?" She paused for a split-second before understanding lit her eyes.

"Eeeeekkkkk!" Sango squealed in delight, causing Inuyasha to flinch and slick his ears down against his head. She paid him no attention, instead launching herself at her dearest friend for another tight hug… which was rudely interrupted by the wail of an affronted Ichiro who appreciated his mother's squeal about as much as Inuyasha did.

"Oh dear," said Sango on a laugh. "Kagome will you help me lift him out of the wrap?" Kagome moved to Sango's back, retrieving the fretting baby and placing him in his mother's arms.

Sango moved to sit down by the fire with Ichiro, motioning for the rest of them to join her as she said, "I'm so happy for you both!"

She looked across the fire at Inuyasha then, locking eyes with him. She would not say aloud how especially happy she was for him. How she'd watched him suffer without Kagome these three long years and how she was so proud of him for having the courage to confess his feelings to Kagome. Sango hoped her eyes would convey her message, and as a smile of embarrassment mixed with pride spread across Inuyasha's face, she thought maybe it had.

"Congratulations, Kagome, Inuyasha! This is truly auspicious news!" Miroku smiled his too-bright smile at the couple, hoping to conceal his slightly delayed reaction, but immediately Sango was suspicious.

"Miroku, did you know about this and that's why you were out there chopping wood?" She narrowed her eyes at her husband, watching as a slight flush crept up his cheeks.

"Oh, don't be angry at him, Sango, I swore him to secrecy. I wanted to tell you myself." Kagome broke in.

"I figured something must have been up when he said he was going out to chop wood. That man usually avoids physical labour at all costs!" She smirked at her husband then.

"You wound me, dearest!" Miroku mockingly held his hand over his heart.

Sango gave him a very unladylike. "The truth doesn't wound, husband of mine. It merely stings a little."

She winked at Kagome and the two of them laughed before she continued, "But back to the good news… You must tell me everything, Kagome!"

Inuyasha and Kagome shared a look at Sango's words… one that she didn't miss.

"What? What is it?"

They looked at each other again. Inuyasha gave a small shrug, as though leaving it to Kagome to decide how much she was ready to say.

Sango didn't miss that either. "Inuyasha, Kagome, whatever it is you're holding back, you better tell me right now." She growled a little. "If something is going on, Miroku and I want to know."

Kagome smiled at that. Sango hadn't changed either. "I guess I should just start at the beginning right? Well, when we left here, Inuyasha took me over to his hut…"

Aki and Yuki had quickly tired of the grown-up talk, going back to their patch of sunlight to play, and Ichiro had happily nursed his way into a deep slumber as Sango and Miroku listen to Kagome explain everything that had happened last night and this morning.

When she was done, there was a long moment of stunned silence.

Finally, it was Sango who spoke, "Are you saying you're immortal now?"

"No, I don't think so." Kagome shook her head, "I mean, youkai aren't really immortal just…less mortal. I could still die–"

"You ain't dying, wench," Inuyasha growled from where he sat.

Kagome rolled her eyes at him. "What I meant was that I'm not so fragile anymore. I'm harder to kill, less likely to age, like Inuyasha… but it's still possible for me to die."

Inuyasha didn't think this explanation was any better and scowled at Kagome, letting her know his opinion on the topic.

Sango ignored Inuyasha, "Still, Kagome, this is incredible."

"Indeed." Miroku who had been silent up till now, finally spoke, "Truly, Kagome, your new power is remarkable. And I am happy for the two of you that this accidental manifestation has granted you this wondrous, blessing."

He paused for a moment before continuing, "I wonder…" He trailed off again.

"Wonder what?" Inuyasha questioned, not liking the sound of that.

"We have seen and experienced too much in our lives to live under the pretense that there is such a thing as coincidence in this world. Why did the well allow Kagome to pass through now? Why not before, or sometime in the future?"

Kagome shivered slightly at Miroku's words. "Kaede said something similar, as though my being allowed to return was not an accident."

"I don't care what it was. Accident or not, you're here now and you ain't going anywhere." Inuyasha crossed his arms over his chest.

Kagome could tell he was worried. He only ever got this belligerent when he was worried about her. She shifted closer to where he was sitting, lightly placing her hand on his knee, silently letting him know that she here with him.

"What has me most concerned is this disappearance of all youkai that you spoke of," Sango said in a low tone so as not to wake the babe in her arms. "It's unnatural. It worries me that someone or something could be so powerful as to erase an entire race, and not just from our island, but from the whole world?!" She shuddered, "What can we possibly do in the face of that kind of power?"

Miroku chimed in, "And it is not just youkai and hanyou. To think that even human Monks and Mikos will be affected… It is as though the very fabric of heaven and earth shall be rewritten."

"I don't like the sound of that," Kagome said quietly.

Inuyasha had had enough. Worry was beginning to creep into Kagome's scent and he didn't like it. "Look, we've got 50 years head start, and we know it's coming. That's gonna be our upper hand. Sooner or later something's gonna slip and when it does, we'll be on it because we're ready. We won't fail. We can't, not when there's so much at stake."

Kagome smiled up at him, basking in the strength of his conviction, and allowed herself to be hopeful. "Inuyasha's right. Whatever the reason I'm here, whatever's coming, it doesn't matter. We're together again. We've got this."

Sango looked at Kagome, "We're family now, all of us who went through the battle with Naraku together. It's a bond that will never be broken." Then a hardened look came into her eyes, as she glanced down at her sleeping son, "And nothing and no one will ever threaten my family and get away with it."

"Pack," Inuyasha said the word quietly, almost to himself.

"What was that?" Kagome wasn't sure she'd heard correctly.

But Sango had heard. She was Tajiya and knew what it meant. "I– We are honoured, Inuyasha."

Kagome was still confused. She looked between Inuyasha and Sango. Inuyasha seemed a bit embarrassed, but Sango spoke in explanation. "Pack is the foundation of Inu-youkai culture. It's like family…. only more. It's an unbreakable bond."

Kagome understood then. She looked up at Inuyasha before speaking. "Like all of us."

Inuyasha looked around the room at the faces of his friends and their children, at the smile of the woman he loved. Myoga had explained Pack to him when he was young, and it had intrigued him. After he'd lost his mother he'd had no one, and when he'd finally gotten up the courage to seek out his brother for the first time, Sesshōmaru had rejected him instantly. Bitter, he'd given up on the idea of Pack after that. He was hanyou, after all. Tainted. Not belonging to one world or the other. He'd always been on his own. But now…? Now he wasn't alone anymore.

He smirked at Kagome before finally replying to her words, "Damn right."

Miroku looked around the room, taking it all in as well. Finally, he gave an exaggerated sigh, shook his head, and looked at Kagome, eyes filled with mischief and teasing. "Well, Kagome, I must say, you have been back with us for only one day, and yet already our fates have turned. I would say that it was truly astonishing… if I didn't know you so well." He smirked at her.

Kagome gave a sharp bark of laughter at that, before returning his teasing smirk, "I know, right? Did you guys miss me, or what?"

#inuyasha #inukag #inukago #inuyasha fandom #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha x kagome #inukag fanfic #sesshomaru rin #sesshomaru #sessrin #mirsan #sango x miroku #sango #miroku #kagome #kagome higurashi #higurashi kagome #rin inuyasha #shippo #Kaede #fanfiction #fanfic #ff.net #ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 writer #sarah-writes-stories #to fight for tomorrow #post canon #post manga

[thelastspeecher]

Hey look it’s another ficlet that I’m too lazy to come up with a title for.  This time, it’s the Angiewolf AU.  It’s basically just cute domestic stuff, but it also includes Stan asking Ford if he’s ever actually seen a baby.  And that’s all the info I’m giving.

              Stan entered Ford’s house.  As he closed the door, he caught sight of Angie dozing in his armchair in the living room.  Unbidden, a fond smile spread across his face.  He walked over to her and kissed her forehead.  Angie smiled faintly, then kicked her leg with a low growl.

              “She still dreamin’ of chasin’ cars?” Fiddleford’s voice asked.  Stan turned around.  Fiddleford stood in the entryway to the kitchen, drying a bowl with a dishtowel.

              “Seems like it.”

              “And here I was thinkin’ her sleepin’ habits were wonky before,” Fiddleford said, shaking his head.  “But I can’t blame her.  Bein’ pregnant is hard work with one baby.  With three…”  Stan glanced back at Angie.  Her large baby bump was evident no matter which position she slept in.

              “Yeah, she’s pissed that she mostly just feels like sleeping,” Stan replied. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets.  “She misses going on hikes.  Or walking for an extended period of time.”

              “Mm.  I’d say it’s the wolf in her, but she’s always been someone who don’t like to stay still.”  Fiddleford sighed.  “Well, she’s overdue, so any day now, she’ll be tired fer a very dif’rent reason.  Fer that matter, so will you.”

              “Mm-hmm.”

              “Say, how’s the house comin’ along?” Fiddleford asked brightly.  Stan grinned.

              “It looks great so far.”

              “‘So far’?  I’m guessin’ that means it ain’t done yet.”

              “No.  But it’s getting close.  I’ve been helping out here and there, but Dan keeps chasing me off, telling me to stick to cutting down trees for now.  Apparently he doesn’t think I have the appropriate ‘credentials’ to build a house,” Stan scoffed, sketching air quotes with his fingers.  Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

              “Would ya like yer babies to live in a house what was made by a professional? Or one what was built by a feller who didn’t even graduate high school?”

              “…Point taken.”

              “Any idea when it’ll be done?”

              “Not until September,” Stan answered.  Fiddleford grimaced.

              “Two months from now?”

              “Yeah.”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  “So, uh, whenever the kids decide to show up, we, uh, we might have to keep crashing here. Until the place is all done.  I mean, we could probably find somewhere else, but it’d cost money, and we already spent a good chunk of what we’ve got saved on the house and baby stuff.”  Fiddleford raised an eyebrow.  “Fine, a good chunk of what Angie’s got saved.”

              “Well, I don’t have any quarrel with y’all stayin’ fer a couple months until yer accommodations get in order.  You’ll have to talk to yer brother, though, since he’s the one whose name is on the deed.”

              “Eh, should be easy enough,” Stan said with a shrug.  “He’s been losing his mind over getting to ‘observe werewolf pups’. He might even be disappointed when we finally move out.”  Loud footsteps thundered down the hall.  Ford stormed into the living room.  “Hey, Ford, I just got back from the house and-”

              “Angie,” Ford said sharply, ignoring Stan.  Angie’s eyes snapped open.  She pushed herself into a more upright position.

              “Yes?” she asked blearily.

              “Care to explain something to me?”

              “…I can do my best.”

              “You haven’t transformed in nine months.  Why the hell am I still finding your fur everywhere?” Ford demanded.  He tossed a pile of fabric at Angie.  She picked up the fabric, revealing it to be one of Ford’s sweaters, caked in caramel-colored fur.

              “Yer guess is as good as mine,” she said after a moment.  She yawned and refolded Ford’s sweater.  “Maybe the old stuff is gettin’ kicked up.”  She laid her hands on top of the sweater.  “I take it yer fin’lly sick of havin’ a pregnant werewolf livin’ with ya?”

              “I wouldn’t say sick-” Ford started.  Angie waved a hand.

              “Sure, sure, you’d say somethin’ like ‘I’ve collected as much data as I can’. But it secretly means yer sick of me. Which ain’t a problem.  I’m as eager fer us to leave as you are,” she said airily.  Stan cleared his throat.

              “Yeah, about that…the house won’t be done for another couple months,” Stan said. Angie let out a loud groan.  Ford turned to face Stan.

              “Really?  Dan works so fast normally.”

              “It’s a bigger order than your place was.  We gotta make sure it’s accessible for werewolves.  Also, since we’re having three kids, we figured we should have more than one bathroom.”

              “Smart move,” Fiddleford said with a nod.  Ford ran a hand through his hair.

              “When exactly will it be done?” he asked.

              “September.”

              “September?  But that’s two months from now!”  Ford rubbed his face.  “Living with three infants and a postpartum werewolf will definitely impede my research.  They’ll be crying at all hours of the night and day, chewing up my shoes-”

              “Chewing your shoes?  Have you ever actually seen a baby?” Stan asked.  Ford ignored him.

              “I mean, living with a currently gravid and hormonal werewolf is already affecting it enough.”

              “Good Lord, do ya have to say ‘gravid’?” Angie griped.  She crossed her arms.  “Just say ‘pregnant’.  Or ‘expecting’.”  She rolled her eyes.  “And I’m so sorry that I’m makin’ yer research difficult.  Yer not the only one unhappy with the sit’ation.  I’m overdue with triplets, Stanford.  Would ya care to trade places?”

              “…No,” Ford said quietly, wisely deciding to back off.  But it was too late.

              “I haven’t shifted in months, which is somehow makin’ me even more uncomfortable than the pregnancy is!” Angie exclaimed.  “I can’t get up without help, I crave a million types of food I shouldn’t eat, I have to pee all the time, I don’t have nearly enough energy to do anything that I enjoy doin’, I-”  Angie paused, a strange look on her face.

              “Angie?” Stan asked.  Angie let out a cry of pain.  “Angie, what’s wrong?”

              “That- that was a contraction,” Angie whispered.  Stan’s heart plummeted to his feet.

              “It was a what?”

              “A contraction.”  Angie stared at him, her eyes wide.  “I’m in labor.”  Stan stared back for a second.  He finally registered what she had said.

              “Shit!”  Stan jumped forward to help Angie out of the armchair.  “Where’s the- you put the bag somewhere-”

              “The bedroom,” Angie instructed.

              “Right!”  Stan rushed away.

              “I’ll call Ma ‘n Pa,” Fiddleford said.  Angie nodded.  Stan ran back into the living room carrying a duffel bag.

              “Got it!”

              “By the way, Stanford, thanks,” Angie said.

              “For what?” Ford asked blankly.

              “Tickin’ me off enough that I fin’lly went into labor.”  She took the arm Stan was offering her.  “We’ll call when there’s babies fer ya to visit.  Don’t wait up.”

#I was inspired to write this while walking my pupper today #and honestly Ford pissing Angie off enough that she actually goes into labor #is the most in-character Ford-Angie interaction I have ever written #Angiewolf AU #Stangie #Stanley Pines #Fiddleford McGucket #Angie McGucket #Stanford Pines #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks