#a nice meal and a treat after his bath seems to change his mind though | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trashcanfanfics · 3 years

Note

Hmm, Angel Dust with an S/o noble overlord who managed to break Angel's contract with Val and take him away from him. fluff mixed with a little nsfw :)

I'm gonna be honest, whenever I think about Angel, all I wanna do is get him tf out of Val's reach

Also, only slight nsfw because I'm not confident in my abilities to write a full on scene for that, I'm sorry :(

Angel had come home, covered in bite marks and his own blood again. You watched from the couch with your book in hand as he walked in through the front door. It worried you, that he would come home like this, broken and defeated.

"Welcome home, my love," you spoke softly as you rose up to go greet him, setting the book aside. He mumbled out a half assed greeting in response. As soon as you were close enough, you hugged him tightly. Angel wrapped both sets of arms around you and let out a shaky sigh. It sounded like he was ready to cry.

"Would you like a bath? I'll draw you one." You gently let go before you grabbed his lower left hand to lead him to the huge bathroom centered around a giant clawfooted tub. Refusing to let go of his hand, you turned the knob to start the water and waited for the right temperature before plugging the drain.

Once the tub was full, you stood, facing him and gently helped him take off his clothes. You barely grazed your hand across one of the marks, making him hiss in pain. This made your blood boil. You were sick of this. Angel coming home beaten, marked, and in despair. You won't stand for this anymore. He had begged you not to get involved, said that it'd be worse if you intervened. You helped him into the tub once he was fully undressed.

"Ya not gonna join me?" He asked in a small voice, he was tryng to sound playful but it came out sad, defeated. You smiled weakly and shook your head.

"No, I thought I'd just wash you tonight, if that's alright with you." You liked doing this after he came home like this, offering him a choice. Giving him the freedom to ask for what he wanted. There was a sneaking suspicion you had that said he just wanted to wash off and sleep. The bags under his eyes helped this theory.

"That sounds nice." He sank deeper into the tub as you turned the knob off and helped him clean the blood out of his fur. The gentle motions of running your hands in his soft hair was enough to let his shoulders droop in relaxation. Your mind drifted off while you cleaned him. You kissed his head, healing his wounds, a habit now.

Valentino will no longer hurt your beloved. You would not allow him to do this anymore. These past few weeks you've been researching and studying dealmaking. The processes, terms, and ways to look into loopholes. All you have to do is get your hands on the physical contract to see what you can find. If you couldn't find anything, you'd just set the contract on fire and hit Valentino before running away.

After Angel was fully clean, you grabbed his favorite embroidered towel and helped him out of the bath. Once again grabbing his hand, you lead him to your shared bedroom and helped him into the softest pajamas he owns. He laid down under the silky sheets on the plush mattress and snuggled into it. You changed into your own pajamas before snuggling in with him. Your fingers gently brushed through his hair as softly sang him to sleep. You ran your thumb across the slight purple under his eye, noting how exhausted he looked even in sleep.

~*~

You woke up to the early birdsong of the morning glory in your garden and gently disentangled yourself from Angel's many armsnd made your way over to the edge. There, you stood straight and rounded the bed quietly to place a soft kiss to his forehead. With one last glance, and a whispered "I love you", you turned off the light and left the room, down the hall, out the front door. You're going to pay that bastard a visit.

~*~

Angel woke up feeling better and less sore than he expected. He sat up and looked over to his loving partner's side of the bed only to frown. They weren't there. Getting up, he stretched and decided to look in the kitchen. Maybe they had gotten up already and were making breakfast, though they usually would have the staff take care of it. He didn't know why, they were an amazing cook and it was always a treat when you did make meals.

"S/o? Ya in here, babes?" He opened the door to see the cooks already making breakfast, one handed him a coffee when they passed by to get to some more ingredients, but you weren't there. They looked pretty busy, so he decided to take his cup and search elsewhere.

He checked the dining room, library, living room, their study, parlor, hell, even the garden (saying hi to Nuggets in his own little mansion on the way), but they weren't in any of those places! Where are they? He was getting worried now.

"Uh, excuse me, sire?" Angel looked to the speaker of the voice to see a small demon that reminded him slightly of Niffty. "My liege has left a note for you, sire." The demon handed him a small piece of paper, bowed, and then skittered off. Angel will never get used to the treatment here. He shook his head and focused on the paper.

"My dearest love, I will be out for a short while, but don't fret, I'll be home soon with a surprise and a gift. I love you very much, S/o." He read aloud. "Aren't gifts and surprises the same thing?" He decided to not worry about that and smiled as he imagined when you'd be back.

~*~

You entered your home tired and frazzled, but with a smile beaming with happiness. You had successfully gotten rid of the contract between Valentino and Angel. Now it was time to tell your lover and give him the gifts you bought him.

"My heart? I'm home!" You called into the foyer as you went deeper into the house. You checked the living room and parlor before you were wrapped up in an embrace of four arms.

"Babes! Where were ya? I woke up an' you were gone," he mumbled in your ear. You smiled and pat one of his arms to release you. He let go and you turned to face him, holding out all the gift bags you were carrying.

"S/o, what the fuck happened to you? You're bleeding!" At his exclaimation you look down to actually take yourself in and realize he's right. You were so caught up in finally setting him free and getting him gifts that you didn't notice the small cuts. Laughing, you wave your hand and fix yourself up with your abilities.

"So I was, thank you, lovely. Now, here!" You, once again, offer him the gift bags. He takes them in his lower set of hands and uses the upper set to hold your shoulders.

"We ain't gonna roll past that you were hurt, even if ya can heal them. Who did it?" There was murder in his eyes. Your gaze softened and you laughed softly.

"I was going to wait until you opened the gifts and ask 'what's the occasion?' But you seem so eager," you paused to reach up and hold his face in your hands, "Anthony Messina, you are no longer under contract with the overlord Valentino. You are a free man, my love." The expression on his face was nothing short of shock.

"What? Are you serious?" His eyes fill with tears as he breathes and realizes you're right. Angel wouldn't be able to feel Valentino's chains anymore. He was free. "I can't believe it." He lets out a laugh and the tears fall, ruining his make up. Angel lifts you up and kisses you hard.

"My star," you whispered when you parted. He kissed you again with more passion. Your hands travelled through his soft locks, relishing in the feeling.

"Caro mia." He kissed you again, longer this time. The bags fell from his lower arms which then made their way to your thighs, wrapping them around his waist.

"Shall we take this to the room, sweetling?" You asked when you separated again. Angel nodded vigorously and carried you, all the while kissing you.

In the room, you hear him kick the door closed and then lock the door with one of his arms. You continue to kiss and run your tongue along his bottom lip, asking for entrance, which he happily gives. Hands found their way to the other's clothes, ripping them off in urgency to feel each the naked bodies beneath.

You wiggled your half naked form from his arms and separated the kiss. Before he could complain, you grabbed his lower left hand and yanked him over to the bed, effortlessly throwing him onto it. You crawled on top of him and kissed him lovingly, caressing his face and then down his chest and finally resting on his hips, giving a small squeeze. Parting from his lips, you said a sentence that set his body on fire.

"I'm going to show you what a true claiming feels like."

#hazbin hotel x reader #angel dust x reader #trashcan answers you

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mollymawkwrites · 3 years

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Eskel/Jaskier: AU where Jaskier met Eskel instead of Geralt and wrote Toss a Coin for him instead - scar kissing/appreciation - "guess love is a response/of the body it haunts"

This took me longer to write than I would have wanted, so thank you for waiting! This is... pure fluff. Hope it’s worth the wait, thank you for the lovely prompt!

CW: mildly horny towards the end, but otherwise it’s only fluff!

"I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood."

Eskel raises his head from where he’s been staring at his spit flavoured ale to meet a pair of twinkling blue eyes.

The bardling can't be more than eighteen, fresh-faced and smelling of arousal as he looks at the Witcher appraisingly. Eskel expects him to recoil at the sight of his scars in the low tavern light, but the bard's eyes only widen with interest, and he slides into the opposite empty seat, leaning his lute against the table.

"Oooh, you're a Witcher, aren't you?" He asks with barely restrained excitement. "I could tell from the other side of the room you were filled with stories. How about I buy you an ale, and you tell me some of them?"

Eskel snorts. "And how are you planning to pay for that ale? Stale bread?" He nods towards the bulges where the bard stuffed the food thrown at him after his less than appreciated performance.

"Well, no," the man deflates, but not for long, his carefree smile returning along a flirty wink, "but I'm sure we can find an arrangement."

The Witcher rises from his seat, leaving his untouched ale and a couple of coins on the table. "I do not bed teenagers."

That earns him an offended splutter from the bard, who doesn't take the hint and follows him through the tavern. "I'm not… I can assure you that I am a man. An adult man." His voice breaks a little on the last syllable and Eskel smirks.

"Want to try that again?" He asks, but before the bard has a chance to reply, a man interrupts them. There is fear in his voice when he asks for Eskel's help with a so-called devil haunting his fields, and the way his eyes keep going back to the Witcher's scars shouldn't make Eskel so uncomfortable, but it does. He still accepts the job.

After the whole debacle with the elves, Jaskier follows Eskel back to the inn, strumming his lute with a spring in his step despite the bruise on his forehead and the tears in his doublet. Eskel informs the man who hired him of his deal with the elves, collects his meagre pay, and immediately spends half of it for a warm meal. He sits in the same corner as this morning, and forgets all about the whole ordeal for the time it takes to fill his stomach.

His peace is temporary, as Jaskier takes back his place in the middle of the room, undeterred by his earlier flop, and starts strumming the same melody he’s been composing on their way back to Posada. And then he starts singing.

The song is… embarrassing. Jaskier doesn’t pay attention to the first hollers and insults from the patrons who recognize him, his eyes rarely leaving Eskel, who sits still, mortified, as he discovers the lyrics at the same time as everyone else.

By the end, the complaints have turned to cheers and stomping, and Jaskier’s cheeks are ruddy with exertion. He accepts to play the song a second time, then follows with popular jigs and bawdy tales that have the drunks singing and the others getting drunker. His attention strays from Eskel, though he still spares him smiles and winks when he happens to pass by his table.

Eskel should leave, he knows. The sun will go down soon, and he still has to find a place to set up camp. But he’s stuck to the bench, people throwing coins at him, clapping him in the back. The bartender even slides a free ale in front of him, with a grateful though reluctant nod. It doesn’t even smell of spit.

A warmth spreads in his chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol, and it only flares brighter every time Jaskier sends a smile his way. It takes him a while to identify this emotion, practised as he is at ignoring them. It’s gratefulness. Not for the people thanking him for ridding them of the elves, though that is a nice change. No, he is the one being grateful for the bard who met an old, grumpy Witcher and decided to see a hero worthy of ballads instead.

Eskel knows the bard benefits from it too, his pockets clinking with coin, knows the friendliness of the villagers will only last as long as alcohol fogs their stereotypes and superstitions, but he can’t help but revel in it, hoarding warmth and comfort as much as he can before he goes back to the cold loneliness of the Path.

Just after the sun sets, but long before the impromptu party is over, Eskel slinks outside, stomach full, a little tipsy on ale and joy. He doesn’t want to wait until alcohol makes the mean ones meaner and pushes them to try starting a fight with him. The bard has earned his success, Eskel won’t be the one to ruin it. He meets Scorpion on the outskirts of the city, caresses his velvety nose as the horse sniffs at his pockets for some treats.

“That was a good day, boy,” the Witcher tells his horse. “We shouldn’t get used to it, though. That’s how you get disappointed.”

Traveling with a human is a change Eskel struggles to adapt to, though it is admittedly nice. The boy is a smart one, cultured and quick-witted, but he doesn't know anything about life. His noble upbringing quickly becomes obvious to Eskel, the lack of basic knowledge like making a fire or cooking food revealing themselves on the first evening of their acquaintance. Eskel doesn't mind teaching the boy. It seems like the thing to do to thank the bard for the song, and for the company.

Before he finds himself maudlin longer, Eskel swings a leg over the saddle, and directs Scorpion to the South. Rapid footsteps echo behind him, and he turns to find the bard running in his direction, lute banging on his back and pockets heavy with the night’s earnings. The warmth that had bloomed in Eskel’s chest in the tavern buries itself deeper.

He doesn't expect the boy to stay long, maybe a week or two, until he's tired of sore feets and sleeping on hard ground, or he finds another "muse*, like he insists on calling Eskel.

But he stays, following Eskel everywhere, unless the Witcher insists he stays back at camp while he goes on a dangerous hunt, or he finds something of interest in a town they go through and decides to stay a couple more days. He always catches up, though, finding Eskel in whatever clearing he's set up camp and sitting at his side like they've never parted. It's nice, Eskel admits to himself. To have someone to talk to, about everything from music and art to monsters and magic. He finds himself brooding less and less, his mind focused on the colourful bard chatting next to him rather than on his own dark thoughts.

It comes slowly, he thinks, it buries itself under his skin, filling his every crevice without him noticing, but it's like falling from the edge of a cliff when he finally realises: he's happy.

He's been happy for a while. Since the ridiculous, optimistic, flirty bard entered his life.

He thinks about running, leaving Jaskier behind, before the inevitable happens and Eskel is left with a heart emptier than it was before. He could survive the loneliness when he had nothing else to compare it to; he's not sure he can go back to it now.

But he's not like his brothers, running from his feelings or translating all of them into anger. He takes the time to think about it, and decides that he'll take the risk. Jaskier doesn't look or smell like he has any intention of leaving Eskel's side for the moment, and Eskel has no intention of letting anything happen to the bard.

So he stays, and gets used to the company. It's surprisingly easy.

Winter is close, and Eskel finds himself feeling maudlin. Soon, Jaskier will head towards Oxenfurt to spend the season in warm lodgings, between some pretty girl's thighs, and wait for the sun to come back. Eskel will depart for Kaer Morhen, if he wants to get to the pass before it gets snowed in.

They've talked about it, and agreed to meet in the spring, but it doesn't keep Eskel from wishing they could stay together. He won't keep Jaskier from his plans, though, the bard sounding happy every time he mentions the friends he has at the Academy and his favourite inns to play at, where everyone, even the lowest drunkard, knows how to appreciate good music and poetry.

He shouldn't ask for more, he knows. The bard already gives him so much; his friendship and his songs and his smiles.

The day before they part, they pay for a room in an inn close to the crossroad where they’ll have to say goodbye to each other, and Eskel spends the afternoon knees deep in murky water to rid the local pond of a particularly aggressive bloedzuiger. It’s not dangerous, just long and damp, and his already foul mood sours even more. Back at the inn, Eskel leaves muddy puddles on the way to their room.

Jaskier hasn’t moved from the bed, where he is writing down his latest composition in the leather bound notebook that never leaves his side, along with his lute. He raises his eyes as Eskel enters the room, nose scrunching up at the Witcher’s state.

“I asked for a bath,” Eskel grumbles, unbuckling his armour and putting it close to the crackling fireplace to dry.

“Oh, good,” Jaskier chuckles. “Everything suits you, my dear, but I can’t say I like the smell of dead fish on you.”

Eskel snorts, but doesn’t reply, as the innkeeper’s daughter knocks on the door and sets to filling a modest tub with tepid water. He thanks her, and waits for her to close the door behind herself before undressing completely and stepping into the bath. It’s not Kaer Morhen’s hot springs, but it does soothe the ache in his bones that always settles when it gets cold. He sighs, relaxing after the frustrating contract, and doesn’t notice Jaskier has moved until he’s right behind him.

It should unsettle him that the bard can sneak up on his Witcher senses, but it has become a recurring occurrence, and Eskel doesn’t mind it so much. He likes being able to lower his guard with someone who’s not his brothers or Vesemir.

Nimble fingers thread in his hair, and he suppresses a shudder at the pleasant sensation. “What are you doing?” he asks without opening his eyes.

“Helping you clean that mess,” Jaskier replies in a low voice, almost a murmur.

Eskel hums, not seeing a reason to refuse the offer. The bard’s fingers on his scalp feel divine, and a purr builds in his chest as he slowly melts into a puddle. “That feels nice.”

Jaskier doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t stop either, even when he’s done with Eskel’s hair. His hands trail down to the Witcher’s neck and shoulders, digging into the muscles there with both strength and care. Eskel’s hard prick bobs in the water, but he doesn’t do anything about it. He knows the bard would accept enthusiastically if Eskel were to proposition him; he hasn’t stopped smelling of lust and ogling Eskel even after all these months, but that’s not what the Witcher wants at the moment.

The hands on his shoulders have traded their massage for featherlight caresses, trailing down old scar tissue and up again, teasing and tickling the sensitive skin. Touch purely for touch’s sake. Eskel hums again and Jaskier chuckles, a puff of air brushing the damp skin of Eskel’s neck. “What are you thinking about?”

“Come with me to Kaer Morhen,” the Witcher says before he has time to talk himself out of it.

The silence that follows is short but Eskel has the time to regret everything that has led him to that moment, until a pair of soft lips caresses the curve of his shoulder, where a werewolf bit out a chunk of flesh thirty years ago and left only a jagged silver scar. Jaskier follows it from one end of the half-moon to the other, then breathes against Eskel’s skin, “I’d be honoured.”

And the warmth in Eskel’s chest makes itself a home there.

#prompt fill #jaskel #jaskier #eskel #fic #the witcher

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chuckbass-love · 3 years

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can i request a super smutty one shot of chris evans and hes obsessed with doing anal and it's the filthiest hottest thing ever ??? i love ur work btw :))

Hi lovely anon, thank you so much for the request and i really apologise for the delay. I’ve been working on a couple other things and obviously Christmas time has been hectic too. However, it’s here now and i hope you love it. Also thank you reading my work, your support means a whole lot and i really appreciate you🥰

A/N: Not written smut in a while so please give feedback as i’m anxious and worried that this is shit. Also, part 5 for Only Love Can Hurt Like This will be out soon. So strap yourselves in for that.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Language, FILTH, anal fingering, anal intercourse, oral (f, receiving), vaginal fingering and daddy kink. 18+

Word Count: 3,054

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @myimaginesworld go check them out❤️

New Obsession

If you were to tell the truth about how you felt a week ago, then it would be that anal made you nervous. Well, not anymore.

You’ve been with Chris for around a year now, which to many wouldn’t seem like a long time but to the two of you, it feels like a lifetime.

He had a way of automatically putting you at ease with everything. Especially in the bedroom or whenever it came to opening up emotionally and even now, that’s still the case.

He treats you like a queen.

Last week whilst the pair of you were lounging around his Massachusetts home with Dodger nestled in between your legs as you lay in between Chris’s legs. He randomly asked you some rather explicit questions.

Ones mostly about your ass and what you’d let him do to it. It started off with him asking about eating your ass, playing with it and then eventually he asked if you’d ever have anal sex with him,

The mere thought had your puckered hole clenching and your tight cunt slowly starting to drip with your honey like arousal. Yeah sure, you were terrified but you’d always been curious and wanted to explore new territory with him.

You love him and you trust him with your life so you agreed to try.

And after a nice romantic meal, a lot of wine on your part, beer on his. You ended up kissing on the couch. It started off very slow until he stood up with you in his arms, carrying you to the master bedroom. The journey there was spent with his large hand splaying across your soft globes, squeezing them aggressively like he just couldn’t wait to have his filthy way with you.

That night was certainly crazy to say the least. You were a little sore after which only led to Chris kissing you on your delicate hole a couple times and running you a bubble bath.

He’s the king of after care with you. Always checking in with you before, during and after to see if you enjoyed it. The last thing he’d ever want is for you to be in pain or danger.

Since that night though, you’ve been doing it whenever you can. It’s like an addiction. The feel of his huge cock pushing into your forbidden and tight hole is something you can never even begin to explain. It just feels incredible. Plus your little cunt gets extremely excited at all of the attention. Chris tends to rub at your bundle of nerves or even dip his fingers into your honey pot, 3 at once. He says he never wants your pussy to be left untouched.

But like you’ve said. It’s like an addiction to you both. In fact, he’s crazy for it.

The grunts that leave his mouth always have you keening for him to go deeper and deeper inside of you. Every inch of him.

Tonight is no exception.

You had a lovely day at his parent’s house. Lisa cooked a gorgeous lunch and all of Chris’ siblings visited with their kids and partners.

You and Scott spent the entire day laughing and joking about the many times you scared Chris. It’s like a running joke in this family plus Chris hates being scared. He calls himself the master of scaring people so when the tables are turned he gets this huge need to get them back.

Whenever Chris is horny or desperate for you, he has his ways of letting you know without actually saying the words.

For example.

You were helping Lisa with some of the last minute prep for lunch by taking stuff out of the oven and placing it onto dishes to then put on the table.

Chris was sat at the kitchen island, sipping on a beer. Well, he was practically gulping it down. You were in the kitchen also.

Lisa asked if you could take the quiche out of the oven and leave it on the cooling rack. Chris’s eyes followed your ass as you bent over. Something you had anticipated to happen since he’s an ass man and your ass in particular drives him insane.

You turned around to place it on the cooling rack and that’s when you saw his flushed cheeks. His eyes full of hunger and lust. Animalistic even.

Before you left to go to his parent’s house, he was begging for you to ride him quickly.

“It’ll only be a quick one, just wanna feel that ass around my cock again”

His whining was more than tempting and now, since you rejected his offer, he was so close to taking you upstairs into his old childhood room to ram into you.

But instead. Lunch was served and he didn’t have the time.

Hours had passed until eventually it was time to go. Lisa gave you some of the leftover quiche since Chris enjoyed it so much and the two of you got into the car with you in the driving seat this time.

“You’re such a fuckin tease baby” he slurred

“And why’s that?” you asked, feigning innocence as you started driving. With his house not being far from his parent’s house, the journey was only around 10 minutes, not even that.

He never responded to you, just smirked as he sat back in his seat.

The moment you got home however, he was all over you like a rash. You shut the front door and locked it just before he pushed you into it.

Your cheek squished against the cold door.

“Chris” you squealed, he didn’t respond though.

You felt his body lower until you were pretty sure he was on his knees, lifting your sundress up and hooking his thick digits into your soaked panties. He yanked them down and tapped your legs for you to step out of them.

“There they are. God i’ve missed this pretty little asshole and oh my, look at this soaked cunt. All for me, huh baby?” you knew that he was well aware of the kind of effect he had on you and your body but he still liked confirmation from your mouth.

“Yes, daddy. It’s all for you. Please”

Whenever you’re around Chris and about to have sex, you find yourself turning into this pathetic woman who is literally his whore. You crave his touch. You crave the feel of his cock ploughing into you so hard that you forget your own name and he loves how hungry you get.

He stood up then, his eyes dancing over your body, the only thing wrong with the view was that you had clothes on. He soon changed that, stripping you completely before getting back down onto his knees.

Which is how you got here.

Your one leg is over his shoulder and your fingers are tangled up in his hair that was once styled.

“Fuck. Daddy. Yes. Just. Like. That” your breathing is heavy and your heart is beating rapidly. His fingers working wonders inside of you whilst his mouth is sucking on your clit.

You’re on the cusp of yet another mind blowing orgasm from just his fingers and mouth alone. He’s already had you messing all over his fingers once but clearly once wasn’t enough if he’s trying to draw another from you.

He’s always been greedy like that.

“Come on baby, i know you got another one in you, give it to me” his fingers start to curl ever so slightly, pressing at that spot inside a couple more times before you’re falling.

Your cum sliding down his digits beautifully. Just the way he likes.

Before you even have the chance to speak, he’s spinning you back around and spreading your ass cheeks to reveal his new obsession.

Seconds later his tongue is pressed against it, circling too.

You shiver at the sensation, your back arches and your hands rest either side of the door frame. In hopes that it’ll steady you.

“There she is, my little whore”

You bite down on your bottom lip as your eyes roll to the back of your head. There’s no point in trying to hold back the moans anymore and with one final lick to your eager hole you let out a loud pornographic style moan.

With Chris, it’s always hard to hold back and he knows that. There’s been so many times when he’s tested you, fucking you in public areas. But the worst one was when you were in his L.A home.

Lisa came to visit at the very beginning of your relationship. You went for some nice lunch and then dinner which was courtesy of your excellent cooking.

Chris put her up for the weekend and boy did he choose that night to initiate some pretty filthy sex.

You were lying on your stomach and trying to sleep when you felt his hands wondering. Then all of a sudden he’s spitting on his cock for lube, stroking it a couple times before sliding into your pussy with ease. All thanks to your permanent need for him.

The way he fucked you that night was most certainly sinful to say the least. His room being next door to the guest room where his mother was sleeping. You’re surprised she didn’t say something the next day. Chris had to keep pushing your head into the pillow to muffle your pleasure filled screams.

“So eager for my cock i see but not so fast baby. Gotta get you ready first” the raspiness of his voice makes everything ten times hotter and you can quite literally feel him inside of you without it being a reality.

He stands up and his finger starts to circle before he slowly pushes it in, taking his time to prepare you for another one of his thick digits.

They glide across the walls inside.

One more is added and another until your ass is stretched out nicely.

He continues to work you over, scissoring his fingers too. Despite doing it a lot already, preparation is key with anal.

“Think you’re ready?”

“Please, i need it” you mewl

He lowers his head so that his mouth is just by your ear and his breath fans your skin “yeah, need it huh? Need daddy’s cock deep inside this tight ass of yours?”

You nod your head aggressively, you couldn’t look more keen if you tried.

“How bad you need it baby, tell me. Tell daddy like a good girl” he whispers, his cologne filling your nose and intoxicating you more than ever as his hand reaches in front to rub at your sensitive clit.

“Please, daddy. I need your cock in my ass. I need it so much”

Before you got with Chris, dirty talk wasn’t necessarily something you even thought about during sex but he introduced you to that world. And what a world it is. It seemed as though, the more you did it, the dirtier you got.

Nicknames were thrown around, more kinks were even explored and you became the pinnacle of a mans dream. Woman in the streets, freak in the sheets.

Such a princess to the public. But for Chris. You’re a whore. Only for him though.

“Beg for it baby” he insists, his fingers press down harder as he rubbing pace quickens.

You can feel the tip of his huge size poking at your hole. Just a push and it’ll be forcing it’s way inside of you, stretching you out even more than his fingers did and filling you up in the best way.

“Daddy, give it to me. Stuff my ass full of your cock please. I need it”

“Such a good girl, my good girl. S’fucking tight baby” the pair of you hiss as he begins to push into you, tearing that sweet ass open.

He’s always loved how tight your ass is and if he had it his way, his cock would remain seated inside of you all day every day. Where it belongs. With your peachy ass cheeks adding to the incredible view.

Every time he fucks you from behind, he spoils you with spanking after spanking, not letting up until your ass is sore and it stings to touch. Luckily, you love it, always begging for more.

And tonight is no different.

His hands rest on both globes, rubbing and kneading before eventually lifting off and smacking back down, earning a gasp from your mouth.

With every inch, he gets closer and closer to bottoming out until before you know it, he’s seated deep inside of your ass.

His fingers find your pussy immediately, sliding inside with no time to waste and then it starts. His thrusting. Slow at first of course.

Gradually getting faster and faster.

“Feel me deep in that fuckin ass huh? My little cock whore. Love getting fucked in this ass baby?” the pure filth leaving his mouth has your clit throbbing under his thumb.

“Answer daddy when he speaks to you” he mutters, spanking your ass and gripping your face with one hand and forcing you to turn your head a bit more so that you’re looking at him “sorry daddy” you pout, face flushed just like his was earlier at lunch.

“And?”

“Feels so good with your cock fucking my ass like that, i need it deeper” you cry out, waiting for his pace to change. His hips snap against your skin as he presses you back into the door with his hand tangled in your hair.

He pulls on it harshly causing you to wince in pain. It all adds to the earth shattering pleasure though, you love when he gets like this.

Ever since you first tried anal last week, he’s turned into this animal. He wants to fuck your ass mercilessly whenever he can. Whenever it’s possible and it’s times like these when he’s glad his house is away from others. He can fuck you as hard and as rough as he likes and your moans won’t be heard by anyone. Absolute bliss.

“That’s it baby, take daddy’s cock like the whore you are. Take it deep” he draws the last word out, his breathing hitches and so does yours as you choke on a moan.

“Take. It”

One smack to your ass cheeks.

“My filthy anal loving whore”

Two smacks to your ass cheeks.

“I always secretly knew you’d love this and i was right. Such a dirty little girl for her daddy, aren’t you?” His fingering pace picks up, ramming into you with such vigor as his cock slows down into hard and rough thrusts.

“Let me hear those sweet noises baby, don’t hide them from me. Sing it for daddy, let me know how good i make you feel”

Your back arches and your face lifts off of the door, head falling back to rest on his chest “please, i’m gonna cum, don’t stop i need it” your desperate whimpers are enough to have him ploughing into your ass harder and faster, his grunts, growls and cursing lets you know how close he is to his own earth shattering orgasm.

“Is daddy’s little girl gonna cum too, huh? Gonna cum with daddy, all over my fingers baby as i spill my cum into your ass again. Like last time?”

“Yes daddy, please, i need it. Give me your cum”

“Such a beg, god you feel so fucking good. Can feel that cunt clenching round my fingers. Cumming baby? Huh, gonna cream all over my fingers like the whore you are?”

All you can muster is a pathetic nod and a whine. You’re so close now.

And just like that, with a couple more thrusts in both holes. You clamp down on his cock and fingers, your clit pulsating again as you cum with a shaky sob of his name.

And of course with your pleasure, his is spurred on. You can feel him twitch and spasm inside as he chokes your name out too. Spilling his hot seed into your ass.

“So fucking good” his heart is beating, you feel it as you lay your head on his chest.

“My good girl, taking it like a pro. I’ll never grow tired of that”

He slowly pulls out, making his way to the bathroom and taking your hand so that you can follow him.

Once there, you get this sudden wave of confidence.

“I already miss your cock inside of me” he runs a wash cloth underneath the hot tap for a couple seconds, before using it to clean himself up. He starts running a bath too but you don’t want one.

You want him.

“I guess we’ll just have to do it again after our bath then won’t we?” he wraps his hand around your wrist, tugging you close so that you’re flush against him.

“What if i don’t want a bath?”

He raises his eyebrows at you in question.

“You want me to fuck your ass again?”

Now that he’s saying it out loud, you feel a tinge of embarrassment.

“Come here and sit on this fucking cock then baby, daddy would hate to disappoint you”

So you do exactly that, he doesn’t have to tell you twice.

“You’re only fuelling the flame baby”

“I don’t know what you mean” your innocence shining through as you turn your head to look at him through your batting eyelashes.

“This ass of yours, you know what it does to me, having my cock buried inside of it. It’s my new obsession” he starts, caressing your cheek before gliding his hand across your body “now. Show daddy how you bounce on his cock”

It would be your pleasure.

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

I hope this was great and that you all love it!!! Honest feedback pls...💜

I’ve not written smut in a hot minute so if it’s shit i understand.

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#chris evans #chris evans smut #cevans #chris evans x fem!reader #chris evans x female reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #reader inserts #smut #request

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popatochisssp · 3 years

Note

If headcannons for the newer skellies are still open, could you talk about how they act with a SO on their period? Mine hit kinda hard and going back and reading that post was a lovely little distraction.

They are! Sorry it took me a hot minute to get to this, but with a partner on their period...

Ash (Undergloom Sans): Definitely on cuddle-duty, hoping to get you to take it easy and nap with him on the couch...or in bed, wherever you might wanna nap is fine. He’s also pretty likely to lay his skull on your lower belly and nuzzle, hoping it helps. He doesn’t really know what he’s supposed to do, but he’d at least like you to be comfy, if you can be!

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus): He’ll probably fret around you a little bit, maybe more than he needs to, but... he’s a caretaker kind of personality, he doesn’t like to see people he cares about in any kind of distress, and he’s not going to be able to quell the urge to Do Something. He’ll light a nice scented candle for you and set you up somewhere comfortable and then disappear into the kitchen to make your favorite home-cooked meal-- it’s how he shows his love!

Brick (Horrorfell Sans): Absolutely lost, not really sure what you need or how to help, but his first reaction is to pick you up, for some reason. So that’s what he’ll do, and then he just kind of...doesn’t put you down... at least, not until you absolutely need to be down, like a bathroom break or something. He feels better about the whole thing if he’s holding onto you and carrying you around, so best to just let him be your chauffeur for a bit to at least let him feel like he’s helping you. Hopefully he is...?

King (Horrorfell Papyrus): Doesn’t seem all too impressed or sympathetic with any symptoms you might be experiencing, maybe even a little visibly disgusted with any, uh...evidence... But he never comments on it, and there always seems to be a snack or a water bottle within reach that you definitely didn’t put there yourself, and whenever he goes out, he’s sure to ask if there’s anything you want while he’s going, he won’t make a second trip later if you change your mind, you know. So maybe he cares more than he lets on.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans): Probably the most casual about it, doesn’t seem phased at all when and if he’s made aware that you’re on your cycle. It’s a fact of life for about half of all humans, a totally normal process and everything. Still, he will ask if there’s anything he can do to make it a little easier on you and fulfill just about any request without complaint. To him, helping you out when you need him is a totally normal process, too.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus): He is so awkward and stupid about it. It’s not malicious in any way, but everything he knows about human cycles is from human media and that’s...obviously a pretty bad teacher. He’ll be kind of weird and hesitant around you while he tries to figure out what your period Does to you, somehow both skirting around you and hovering--unsure if you want him to stay with you or stay away from you. He’s well-meaning enough, he wants whatever you want, just be straight with him about it and communicate clearly what you need and how you feel, and he’ll gradually become more normal around you.

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans): Definitely sympathetic, but not about to let you wallow in any pain or discomfort you might be experiencing. He’s still got a knack for green magic, even after everything, and he’ll offer it to you freely to ease what he can. Also very likely to draw you a steaming hot, luxurious bubble bath, if you’d care for a soak and a bit of pampering. (He wouldn’t be opposed to joining you, either, but he’d fully respect your wishes for a little solo me-time, if that’s what you’d prefer!)

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus): Stars, he gets clingy. Normally, he likes to keep a bit of distance, even if it’s small, but when you’re on your cycle--especially if you’ve got some rough symptoms--he’s practically on you the whole time. He’ll only want to leave you long enough to cook and do chores for you, and even then, he’ll probably check in often or try to keep you in his line of sight if he can. He feels like he can’t really help you, since he can’t make your body stop doing what it’s doing and he can’t take the pain/discomfort/unpleasantness from you, so he at least wants to be on hand, if nothing else. Good luck shooing him away!

Sunny (Gastertale Sans): Empathetic in a big way, seeing you uncomfortable and hurting, he can practically feel it himself, so he really wants to help, or at least distract you, if he can. He’ll offer just about anything he can think of to see if any of it sounds good to you--taking a walk, watching some TV, go for a drive, get some ice cream, or maybe just take a nap???--and if anything strikes your fancy, he’ll make it happen! If you pick a sedentary activity, though, you should expect to have his hands wrapped around your middle and trying to knead away any cramps or pressure you might be having. He’s good with his hands and if he can put those fingers to use for you now, nothing would make him happier.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus): Your first handful of periods around him aren’t going to be great. They won’t be bad either, but definitely nothing you would even notice from him. He hardly even seems aware of what’s going on with you beyond, y’know, basic consideration of you as a person and as his datemate... It’s not until a few in that you realize you were wrong. He was aware, very aware, and in fact, far from doing nothing, he’s actually been hard at work the whole time--collecting data, preparing. The next time your period hits, he’s ready, providing you with everything you need as you need it, sometimes even before. Your supplies are stocked up and neatly organized, medication is provided in sync with the ebb and flow of your symptoms, all of your most craved treats are in the kitchen or sometimes even already in his hand to be passed over to you at the perfect moment... He’d probably give you a weird look if you called him your Period Fairy, or even, fondly, your Menstruation Wizard, but it kind of feels appropriate with how he’s boiled taking care of you down to such an exact science.

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sugar-petals · 4 years

Text

BTS Scenario: Taking Care of Them When They Have a Cold

↳ ♡ NOTE ⇁ time for fluff. autumn season is coming, let me set the mood right here, we’re going cozy 🍂

warnings ⚠️ hurt/comfort, brief mention of sexual tension

⌈jimin⌋ ⇢ Jimin’s cold is unusually subtle. In terms of visible signs, it’d take some time to notice it for someone who doesn’t know him or doesn’t check just how heavy another person’s breath is going. But feedback? You will definitely get. Compared to how he’s pouting about it, which will melt your heart is what I’m saying, the symptoms are understated in comparison to the other members. Taehyung’s cough can shatter an entire neighborhood, Jimin sneezing is as graceful as a gazelle. Mind you, his nose is runny, and the slight fatigue of the first two days isn’t negligible, but the major thing to actively mend is more psychological than physical. In other words, his body does its thing, you don’t have to overextend yourself.

That’s what you have to figure out first to really take care of him properly. After laying him down and bringing both snacks and liquids, talking is what he needs rather than ten thousand types of medications and cool towels all over him. Jimin doesn’t want to see you become sick as well so you don’t sit up close, but at talking range, and you text a lot during the day while you work. He’s worried about not being able to practice and hopes the cold doesn’t show in his appearance. You assure him it takes five days at best and he is okay again and promise a lot of kisses. With that prospect, healing is even sweeter. And, you know the guy, Jimin misses seducing you, so.

⌈taehyung⌋ ⇢ Absolutely enjoys being babied ten times out of ten. Nothing better than you preparing a hot herbal bath. Rosemary, thyme, camomile. The steam spiraling off the water surface looks so relaxing in the candlelight, the classical music you put on sways him into a trance, he lays there for half an hour just motionless. He gets a little tray of coconut cookies on the bed stand, you play the guitar to him, you massage his feet before he sleeps… Which, and he hates admitting it, makes it nice to be sick. By all means not because of the fever, but the extra attentions, the hot chocolate for bed. Taehyung thinks about that twice and concludes something. He doesn’t want to get a cold just to receive this treatment. Not for his own health nor to worry or overwhelm you, he’s not gonna guilt-trip you into being a servant.

So, you agree for later: It’s good to treat him sporadically just because, whenever and wherever, cue Shakira. That Taehyung so enjoys a good healing and mending time and it just explodes when you both have a reason to, that’s rather something to expand to the whole relationship. Taehyung will do the exact spoiling for you, with a romantic twist the way you know him. It doesn’t need a sickness to resort to doing nice things for your partner. At the end of the day, the body will remember it and get sick again because it sees what it gets through being ill. That’s something to squarely avoid doing, a random gesture is good for its own sake, amen.

⌈yoongi⌋ ⇢ Grumpy, murmuring, disgruntled he can’t work without getting a headache, needs a lot of silence to recover so he curls up on his own with earphones in and fifty playlists on repeat. He’s like tch, only thing I need is tiger balm to whip me back into shape. Or… wait. Wait a second. A cup of steaming hot coffee with extra foam he will not reject. Or a plate of fried rice. Anything fried and super crispy, really. Yoongi likes those things, especially when prepared by you. Nothing is more honoring. Actually? I’ll change the initial statement. Yoongi does accept some help. You simply gotta find out his catnip I mean favorite dishes and either know the place to order it from or have some kitchen basics down. Nothing super fancy though, it doesn’t need a God’s Menu. The right seasoning does the trick already.

He wants it mega spicy, sweating out the cold is the way to go said Yoongi’s mom back in the day so he goes by that motto. Love starts in the stomach for felines. If another BTS member drops take-out at the door, even better, that uplifts him greatly. When he munches, that’s the most gratifying thing in the world. Yoongi wants you to eat with him by the bed so that means chili in the bedroom but screw it. All that food and you cranking up the heater distracts Yoongi from his cold and some head pats have him on his way to recovery. And, by the way. He’s kinda turned on by you cooking for him so… the frustration is real, you’re gonna fuck like rabbits once he’s okay again.

★ ⌈namjoon⌋ ⇢ The friendly giant will stay in denial about his cough for at least three days and walk around with way too much medicine in his system. He begs for someone to relieve him, mostly himself, but all those sky-high standards are in the way. Responsibility! Hard work and endurance! Solve it in your head! What is the spiritual reason for colds? How many pills keep you awake for an all-nighter to write an album in one go? What’s next on the schedule? So it goes on, you know the deal with Joonie. You have to kick that leader butt so he finally enters the healing cave under the sheets. Don’t kick too hard though, he doesn’t have Jimin-level cushions. He topples over into his sheets fast anyway, he’s that level of exhausted from his own suppression.

The story goes on, Namjoon feels extremely guilty for getting pampered and still ponders the reasons why he is ill rather than slowing down a minute and closing his laptop for a hot second. It gets a little awkward unless you figure out your secret weapon. What he feels better with is you reading him stories while he rests on the sofa. I’m not kidding. Or if you’re busy or he wants to be alone, audiobooks. That input is like a lullaby to Namjoon who gets knocked out by the soft whispering only to descend into 12 hours of sleep. Ah, he’s namjooning. Yep. His cold will force him into resting, but by the time he recovers, he is six books wiser and has had the pleasure of listening to your voice which he finds soothing. Thankful he is, anticipate an expensive present and flowers.

★ ⌈jungkook⌋ ⇢ Meal and fluid intake: Quantity explosion! Wow, wow, and wow again, the sheer amount that he can snack and turn into what seems even more muscle and more sweetness. Guinness World Record. He knows his system is currently resetting, he wants to hand it the building blocks, he knows the math. Yes, even sick Jungkook is the cutest foodie in the world. Yes, he will eat his veggies. He worries about not being able to work out so you at least help him stretch his legs ever so slightly in bed. He’s missing his boxing gloves like crazy, he wants to see the members in the practice room, he wants his milk. The latter is easy to get for him, and FaceTime comes in handy.

Namjoon does a little motivational speech, and Jungkook feels better almost instantly. Later on, you have to scold him — well, just a little bit — for getting up in all that enthusiasm to do some of his routine on the second day, but he already knows it’s not good for him to get his heart rate up like that. He patiently snuggles in a cocoon of duvets with only his eyes being visible. Until, finally, his red lil’ nose goes back to normal and his lungs feel a lot lighter. Jungkook really hates being dizzy, so it’s a weight off his hunky shoulders all right. Then, he can join you at the dinner table for a double portion of extra Parmesan Spaghetti, and you settle on the couch to bingewatch romantic animes and any Studio Ghibli movie in history.

★ ⌈jin⌋ ⇢ It simply can’t be helped, he even wants to make this funny. Humor really is a never-ending well, Jin is Spongebob’s long lost cousin if you go by his amount of meme talk. He calls himself Rudolph the Red-Nosed Jindeer, stuffs handkerchiefs into his nostrils, draws smileys on his knees with the cream usually meant for a dry philtrum (he now has very hydrated knees, how about that), does impossible contortions to find the right sleeping or reading position. Honestly, you don’t really have to take much care of him nor worry, Jin will cure himself through laughter. The power of positive emotion. Entertainment is nothing to provide for, he’s a one-man show after all. Jin is the least bored when he’s sick among the group, however! It needs someone else to exchange with, you know. No punchline without an audience. Listening is the best thing.

Sit, lean back, see what he has to say. The only thing you gotta actively do is stop him from choking on his own spit after a particularly dead-on joke. Maybe it’s introducing some room for serious time that helps Jin enter a different track. I can imagine that. Some talk about memories, talk about sorrows and issues. Jin is a complete man, but he still has plenty of ’em, demons don’t evade handsome people. And those need to be talked through in a silent minute. Jin also enjoys movie nights with a cup of tea in one hand and syrup in the other, that’s the go-to way to unwind. You can finally go all out and pour him his tea, bake for him, serve some self-made popcorn, extra sticky and sweet, oh yum.

★ ��hoseok⌋ ⇢ If Jimin and Hobi ever get colds at the same time, this will be the poutiest contest. They’re the most vocal about it in the group. Hoseok, and that will come to surprise you a little, becomes needy. Not at the beginning where he’s confused and emotional about what’s going on with him (someone who works this hard and needs a fully functioning body is thrown out of their lane even by the slightest symptom), but shortly after. You’ll come to understand how sensitive his body is, almost as perceptive as Jungkook’s actually. His body blows up with a strong fever, a hot man heating up even more is just an explosion of physics.

He needs handkerchiefs, he needs tons of water, he needs music to distract him a little, he needs a heating blanket for his feet once the fever is gone. Granted, every sick person depends on those things, but Hoseok is someone who calls out of the bedroom often because he ran out. He’s not afraid to ask for things unlike Namjoon who would refuse out of overt politeness. You certainly have a lot to do because his cold comes in strong so it’s important you enjoy taking care of him and don’t do it out of obligation. Quality time is what we’re talking about here. It’s not about you doing the things, it’s about the presence. That’s why Hoseok will use his money well and always order proper take-out that’s not just classic fast food, you don’t have to cook or anything.

related: putting bts to sleep after a hard day

#bts headcanons #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #bts domestic au #bts hurt and comfort

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elvendara · 3 years

Text

March Madness 2021

AKA Yooran Month!

Ahh, back on my laptop! No more posting from my phone, woohoo! Anyway, here is the beginning of a different look at one of the Yoosung bad endings with Unknown:

Since that first day, he hadn’t laid a finger on him. He hadn’t been particularly nice, but he had not taken his anger out on him again. Mostly Yoosung had been ignored. The days blurred together, and it was impossible for him to remember how long he’d been held as a prisoner. If you could call what was happening to him incarceration.

Unknown confused him. It was almost like he was confused himself. Some days Unknown paid incredible attention to him, eating each meal with him and talking his ear off over nonsense or his daily routine. Most days however, he ignored Yoosung to the point that Yoosung would have to ask for food. He wasn’t allowed to leave the room, though it was a nice room, a full-sized comfortable bed, an entire wall of bookcases filled to the brim, many more books spilling onto a desk and the floor. There was even a computer, though it had not internet access. Unknown had even brought in a gaming console and hooked it up to the small TV on the floor.

He’d tried to just leave on one of the days Unknown treated him as invisible. He had been caught, but the man had only looked at him with what appeared to be disappointment and led him back to the room. It was the first time he had locked him inside. But only for that day. Yoosung could have walked out again, there were days where Unknown was gone from the house. He just couldn’t make himself do it. What if the front door was locked? What if this was a test? What if Unknown turned violent again? So, he did nothing, frozen and afraid.

Most nights Unknown worked away on his computer in the adjoining room, separated only by the bathroom. Yoosung could hear him clicking away, fingers flying across the keyboard as if by magic. There was a small twin sized bed in that room but Unknown seemed to not need much sleep. Some mornings Yoosung would wake up to find the man in bed with him. He had never tried to touch him, but it had still a bit unnerving.

If he received a phone call, which was not very often, he would go outside to take it. There was nearly always a highly emotional response after these phone calls. He might be agitated, talking to himself, even going so far as to hit himself over the head and call himself names. He might cry silently, pain written all over his face. He might be angry and punch the wall. Whatever the emotion, it was always followed by a couple of days of him not sleeping, barely eating, and plugging away on the keyboard.

This was one of those days. Yoosung leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom and watched the man, his glassy eyes never leaving the bank of monitors before him. He looked haggard, thick bags under his eyes, lips parched. Yoosung looked around the room, his eyes falling on the small fridge in the corner. He knew Unknown kept drinks in there but wasn’t sure if he’d restocked it recently. With a sigh he stepped in the room, something he normally would never dare, and opened the fridge. There were a few water bottles in it and a convenience store sandwich. He picked a bottle up and checked the date on the sandwich, good enough.

He set the water bottle down next to Unknown, his fingers paused over the keys, but his eyes never left the monitors. Yoosung busied himself with opening up the sandwich, ham and cheese, it smelled OK. He took one of the triangles and handed it to the other man. It seemed that he would just ignore him, but then he took it, glancing at Yoosung briefly. Yoosung took the other triangle and took a bite. While it was a bit dry, it wasn’t bad. His stomach growled and he realized this was the first thing he’d had to eat in a day and a half. They ate in silence, Unknown taking the water bottle and drinking most of it in one go. Yoosung leaned against the desk, trying not to make eye contact.

Once he finished his half of the sandwich, he took the cellophane and the empty bottle, tossing them in the garbage. Then he fished out two more bottles, leaving one in front of Unknown and taking the second one back into his room. There was some tension in his body, but mostly, he felt good. There was something about Unknown that felt fragile, wounded, sad. The violence he had exhibited after Yoosung had kept him from blowing up Rika’s apartment had vanished, leaving something of a husk behind.

Yoosung was still trying to figure him out to no avail, but he was worried that he was beginning to have feelings for the man. It had been difficult resisting putting his arms around the white-haired man and comforting him. He shook his head, Unknown had beat him senseless and kidnapped him, hoping to use him against the RFA, he could not afford to begin to have compassion for him. For all he knew, this was Unknown’s plan, to get him to let his guard down. And then there was MC. Were his feelings so shallow? He’d believed he was in love with her, but now he was rethinking his own feelings. Each day that love felt ephemeral, cheap, fragile. He knew nothing about her except the few interactions they’d had through the chat. He fell for her hard, but there was no substance there. He closed his eyes and berated himself for being so foolish.

The door to the other room opened and closed making him sit up. The front door opened as well then he heard a vehicle start. Yoosung sighed in relief. At least he hadn’t crossed a hard boundary, sometimes it was difficult to know. He walked to the door of his room, peering through the open door of the bathroom through to the other room. Unknown always closed that door when he went out. Yoosung had tried it a couple of times, but it was always barred. Whatever was in there, Unknown didn’t want to take the chance of Yoosung finding it or snooping.

With a sigh he tried the handle on the door. It was unlocked of course, it always was. He pulled it open and peered into the hallway. To the right was the door to Unknown’s room, another closed door at the end of the hall. To the left was the living room and kitchen. He’d only seen them once, when he had tried to escape. He couldn’t see the front door from where he stood but he remembered where it was. He wondered yet again if he could leave. Just walk out.

He could, it was right there, Unknown was gone. Rounding his shoulders, he lowered his head and walked back into his room, closing the door behind him. He would wait.

💥💥💥

He wiped the mirror of the condensation from the steam of the shower and towel dried his hair. It was getting long and Unknown had asked him if he wanted it cut. He had declined, preferring to just let it grow. The roots were showing, and he thought he would eventually just grow it out and cut off the blonde. There was nobody here to impress, unless he counted Unknown. He wondered if he would still be here when that finally happened.

Time just seemed to flow, slowly. There was no calendar, but the weather had changed from warm to chilly, becoming cold. Six months is about what he estimated. Six months since he’d been beaten and kidnapped. He had free roam of the house now, it was small with only three rooms a full bath and a half bath. Most days he spent cooking and gaming while Unknown worked on whatever it was he worked on. He’d filled out a bit, put more fat on his bones and he looked much healthier. They never had visitors, but he was still getting plenty of phone calls that put him on edge.

There had never been another violent incident but Yoosung had heard Unknown break down in the middle of the night several times before he garnered the courage to walk into his room and comfort him. The first time he’d found Unknown in the corner, weeping hysterically and banging his head against the wall. He’d put his arms around the man without a second thought once he’d seen what was happening. Unknown froze mid weep, his breathing halted before he gave into the embrace and let Yoosung rock him.

There had been more instances of this and eventually Unknown had taken to sleeping in bed with Yoosung. Yoosung found that he didn’t mind one bit. He would tell himself that this was just a ploy, that Unknown was just using him, getting him to let his guard down. But it was no use. Yoosung’s heart had already become attached. Unknown was wounded. He didn’t flatter himself in thinking that he would be able to ‘fix’ Unknown, but he could be a balm. And whatever the man was working on, against the RFA, perhaps he could find a way to make him see things differently. One thing was clear, Unknown was miserable.

They were getting closer. Each day was another brick laid on the foundation, a very shaky one. After all, what kind of healthy relationship could they possibly have as prisoner and jailer? With a sigh Yoosung turned away from the mirror and the reflection of his amethyst eyes looking back at him. He was a fool, he knew it, but he couldn’t help it.

#my posts #Yooran #Yoosung Kim #Saeran Choi #Unknown #alternate ending #alternate bad ending #for Yoosung route #mysme #mystic messenger #March Madness 2021 #Yooran Month #YOORAN FOREVER

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emiisanxious · 3 years

Text

Everything is Alright

Archive of Our Own Link

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series)

Relationships:

Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders

Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders

Additional Tags:

Comfort

Fluff

Light Angst

Alternate Universe - Human

Summary: “Virgil had a tiring shift and all that he wanted was Roman.

Really I'm just bad at summary.”

"Hey... Can you go downstairs to meet me up?" He was able to let the plea out of his tone, although it was a matter of need, not just selfish.

"Sorry Vee, I'm near done with my work, need 10 more minutes and then I will be free to stay with you." Was the answer he received from the other man, he let a soft sigh and murmurs. "It's okay..." With that, he hung up the phone as he walks past the gates and then starts to walk up the stair. His apartment is on the third floor of three floors. It's more likely a private apartment through. Since the 6 men inside all know each other since childhood.

It wasn't that late, like 11 pm, but it was already late for three of the man are been sleeping. Logan, Patton, and Janus needed to sleep early since they wake up and go to work early. Remus worked all night, so he probably wasn't there, while Roman his actual boyfriend had a messed-up schedule as a writer and theater professor.

Virgil on the other hand had a more messed-up schedule as he is a babysitter. Honestly, the only reason he liked this type of work is that the only interaction he has with adults is when he is receiving the notes about the child. No matter what type of children, he does have a way to deal with them, weird enough the kids loved him. And with his anxiety, he can remember and follow all the rules that the parents need. So in general, this type of job is perfect for him.

But... It does have bad sides for him. Because of his anxiety, he has a hard time to eat or sleep while taking care of the child, which can drain his energy quickly. So today was one of those days, where the parents just told him that he would need to do trick-or-treat with the kid, put them to sleep, and tomorrow at eight or worse nine they would be back.

It was nerve-wracking when he got a call saying that they would be delayed because their familiar problem got worse. He couldn't blame them, their grandma was in the hospital and they were taking care of her he got it. What doesn't got it was his anxiety.

What was supposed to be a 12 hours shift, went far more than 24 hours which he wasn't expecting; He was tired, but that was it, they all were safe and all he needed was get back to his home. In his way, he called Roman, he knew very well that he was been a needed selfish, but he truly needed some comfort right now. The disappointment as he hears the answer, he couldn't do anything, Roman needed to finish after all...

So as he finally is back, he locks the door, let go of his shoes, and without thinking, he goes straight to his room, let his bag fall slowly on the floor, to then take out his clothes, wash his hands, change to his pajamas and just throw himself on the bed. Pulling the blanket over his head as he hugs his legs.

It was fine, he was already home, but he couldn't help the insecurity thoughts that passed on his mind. He didn't hear when Roman called him, but he did jump when he felt arms around him hugging him tightly. "I'm here, I'm sorry I couldn't go downstairs. But I'm here now, and everything is fine Vee."

Those words did him move from where he was, to turn and just bury his head on Roman's chest. He wasn't feeling well, it was always a drain when his work didn't go as it should be. "Did you eat something or slept?" He could hear the concern in his boyfriend's tone. Although he was feeling nonverbal right now, so he just shook his head.

"Are you feeling nonverbal?" A nod, as all the answers he could give him. "How about... I order something light for us to eat, and while we wait we just stay like this. When the meal comes, I will get it and we can go watch something while eating, sounds good?" He had to move a bit to look at Roman, and then nod before moving back to bury his head on his chest. "Okay then." As the writer moved to pick up his phone he ordered something in silence.

Although when he was done, he did put on some Disney piano music, and just stayed there playing with purple hair, murmuring the musics. It took a whole two songs, till Virgil felt better. "I'm just... What if I messed up? You know, I... It was already 20 hours awake, and it was still 1 pm... I didn't eat anything and..."

"Shushu... I'm pretty sure you didn't mess up anything Vee. But to calm you down how about... I ask questions about it and you try to answer?" That was a nice exercise they developed to calm him down and talk about his day so he just nodded.

"What time the kid woke up? Did the kid brush their teeth?"

"8 am, and yes..." He had to stop a bit, to think about it since at this time his head is aching by lack of sleep and food.

"Nice, what you gave for breakfast?"

"Hm... Peanut Butter jelly bread? And Juice. Around 9 am... Because he helped me to do the bed."

"Okay, then what type of exercise you did with them?"

"Well, it was 9:30 am, that is when I got the call saying they would get long to return... So I asked if the kid had homework to do, and then I helped him to do it..." He started to breathe a bit more even and calm now.

"Seems like you improvised well ~! So, lunchtime? What you gave him?"

"Yeah... We stayed till noon doing his homework, mostly because he had so many questions... But after that, I gave him some leftovers that I could find on the fridge... After that, I let him watch tv and gave him some sweets since he was behaving. For dinner, I did some sandwiches and when their parents were back he was playing a game on his ps4."

"Did he broke any of the parent's rules?"

"Nah, I already looked for this kid once, he normally is well behaved. But he did miss his parents..."

"See, everything is fine Vee."

He sighed in relief, feeling his head far quieter as he looks to Roman, and place a small kiss on his lips. "Thanks... I guess I passed my limit of staying awake and just needed you to ground me down..." He murmurs as he now started to feel bad about needing his boyfriend's attention. Although before he could think too much about it, the brunet just passed his hands over his chin and pulled him in a deep and lovely kiss, which lasted for a minute, before he let go.

"Hey, relax. I'm your boyfriend for 5 years now, and you're starting to trail off about how needed you're right now. I know this look and this pattern. But it's not bad, I do love to give you all the attention I can ~! And all the cuddles and caress. Even if you didn't ask, I would still give you. Because you deserve it okay?" Roman was always making sure that Virgil understood that, and that is something that he was glad about.

"Okay, Prince." He smiles, now feeling more light and calm, as he looks back to his boyfriend. "Thanks."

"Shushu Emo, let's just appreciate the music till the food is here okay?" A nod was all he gave the other as he just stayed there cuddling. Although halfway he had to sit down and shake his head. "I'm going to shower..." He looked to Roman who just smiled and then when to pick up some clothes, going to the bathroom attached to the bedroom he undressed and started the shower.

His boyfriend though stayed there, putting the music a bit louder, as he promised he wasn't going to leave unless necessary. During his bath, he could hear the phone calling and the warning that the food was there, where he could see Roman leaving to pick up and Virgil just finished his bath.

Changing clothes and drying his hair he put up some clothes before returning to the living room, where he turned the TV and choose a movie to watch. Soon enough Roman was back with the food, going to the kitchen to serve it right and pick up some drink.

He ate the food and drink it, gladly that his boyfriend didn't put a lot, probably already knowing he won't be able to eat that much. Halfway through the movie, he started to feel sleepy, as he was finally able to rest, where Roman just let him rest on his shoulder. When the movie ended he turned the TV off and then carried him to their bed.

Turning the lights off and then slipping to lay down at his side. Letting relaxing music playing and a small night lamp on, as he just hugs Virgil and cuddles with him. "It was just a hard shift... You will be fine tomorrow. If not, I will be here to take care of you." He places a gentle kiss on his boyfriend's forehead and then falls asleep with him.

Notes:

So... It's somewhat based on a true experience, yet I just wanted to try something fluff with comfort? I dunno. My mind is weird. Also, I can't sleep because I need to keep my messed-up schedule.

About this: Here are some random things I didn't write in the fic but thought about:

- They are most likely the same height, a few inches tall or shorter. - They also have the same age range between 30, the difference between months. - They are all in a large relationship. Although some click more than others because of time. - If Roman wasn't home, he would jump to Patton and Logan. - They all have different jobs.

I honestly want to write more as them human and on his universe, if you have suggestion drop it down at my tumblr.

#Virgil Sanders #Roman Sanders #prinxiety #fanfic

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 3 years

Text

Disappearance 8: The End {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Thank you to everyone who has been on this little journey with me! I hope this fic has been enjoyed even half as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Disappearance Masterlist

As his parents they were permitted to take the boy home to the apartment with them, and the boy liked Miki right away. When she wound herself around his shins and stood on her back legs to butt her head against his hand, he was smitten. The quiet giggles as he pet her and played with her and her toys were like music to both Katsuki and Chiasa.

Miki was happy to see Chiasa, licking her hand affectionately after receiving chin scratches in greeting. Chiasa could only marvel at how much she had grown since she last saw her as a tiny kitten pouncing on every dust particle in the apartment. It was a sweet reunion and one Katsuki had always hoped he would be fortunate enough to witness.

That seemed to be a new change in his life, being able to reclaim the peace he once had before Chiasa had disappeared, and now he was fortunate enough to have that with both her and their son.

Watching the reintroduction of mother and son at the hospital was surreal. Chiasa had marveled at the small boy she had once thought to be a hallucination standing in front of her in the flesh. It was obvious when the boy recognized her and spoke with caution that she was hurt just imagining what her voice had said to him without her consent. But she spoke warmly to him and promised that she was real and not the mother he thought he knew before.

The boy would experience the same thing soon when he found out who his real father was too.

Just thinking about the paperwork with the paternity test results tucked away in his bag was enough to have his spine tingling. They hadn’t sat the boy down to tell him that Katsuki was his father quite yet, afraid that too much change and information in one day wouldn’t be good for him as he integrated into the real world. The child psychologist at the hospital had been more than supportive of the decision and offered his services going forward, something they readily accepted.

Another thing they had to deal with was setting up appointments to find out more about the skin condition causing the rashes and itchiness for him. The doctors had attempted a few preliminary tests that came back inconclusive and recommended a dermatologist for further testing and treatment. It seemed unlikely the generic skin cream they sent them home with would do much in the meantime but it was worth a shot.

He pondered all of this as he watched the pot with the beginnings of their miso soup was considering boiling. Down the short hall he could hear murmurs from the bathroom where the boy was finally able to get clean, to take what Katsuki knew was the first bath of his life with his mother. He left the kitchen knowing a watched pot never boils anyway and a glimpse of his son with his mother was much more important.

Quietly walking down the hallway, fingertips dragging against the wall lightly, the voices of his family became more clear.

“We stay here?”

Chiasa hummed an affirmative. “Yeah, this is where Katsuki lives and where I lived a long time ago.”

“Before Toga looked like you?”

A chill went up his spine.

“Yes, honey, before she would look like me,” she replied after a long pause. “I’m sad that she did that because it meant you got to meet me when it was really her and we never actually met at all. I’m sorry about that, but you can know that from now on when you see my face, it’s really me.”

“Really my mom?” he asked.

“I’m really your mom, yes. I’m going to take care of you for the rest of my life to make up for all the time we were apart okay?”

He couldn’t keep himself hidden after that, turning the corner to lean against the doorframe of the bathroom.

“I’m gonna help her too, that good with you?” he asked, both of the brunettes turning to look up at him.

The boy gave a little grin and nodded, a small murmur of, “Yes,” making sure both he and Chiasa smiled too.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t going anywhere.”

“You should be going to the kitchen to make dinner,” Chiasa teased.

He waved a hand dismissively but started to turn back to the kitchen nonetheless. “Yeah, yeah, water’s probably boiling now anyway.”

It was easy like that, falling back into their old ways. Even with the addition of the boy they had their same rapport and he knew that as a family it could only get better.

Even though he knew it, it felt like it was cemented as soon as the quiet giggles of mother and son entered the kitchen while he plated their meal. Looking over at the two brunettes he couldn’t believe how naturally they fit into this picture of his life.

Now that the boy had been cleaned up his dark hair wasn’t matted and he could see the small spikey tufts sticking out every which way. It looked more like his mother’s slightly longer hair but those were without a doubt definitely from his side of the gene pool. It was overwhelming to realize but even moreso to know that he already loved it and couldn’t imagine a time where he wouldn’t.

His entire being was screaming that it was outrageous for him to feel this way so quickly when he barely knew the boy but it was his son! His son with Chiasa! It was everything he had ever wished for from the time he realized she was the one for him to the present moment.

Katsuki was content to have this first meal as a family and to watch the two of them scamper off to the couch as he cleaned up after them. He was happy to hear the boy speak about the brightly colored cat cartoon they were watching even if they were small remarks. He could absolutely get used this this dynamic.

His thoughts were racing trying to think of everything they would need for the boy as he was brought fully into the fold of their lives. Surely there would also be medical appointments other than to treat the skin condition in addition to the therapy both he and his mother would be attending.

“We’ll have to make the office his bedroom,” he mused aloud as Chiasa laid against him on the couch. The boy sat cross-legged at their feet, entranced with an older cartoon he vaguely recognized.

She hummed. “Should we let him have the bed until then? Assuming you still have the old futon.”

“Yeah, I have it. Kid deserves a good night’s sleep on a nice mattress. You do too, so I’ll take the futon and you two get the bed.”

“No, I wanna stay with you,” she said. “We’ll sleep on the futon in there with him though, just in case.”

“Look at you going into Mom Mode already.”

She playfully elbowed him in the side. “As if you haven’t won Dad of the Year in a day.”

He scoffed but pulled her closer to him. The natural protectiveness over his family blanketed over his paranoia to keep them in his sights as often as he could, even in the apartment.

Even with the League members behind bars, Dabi and Compress for years and now Spinner, Toga, and Shigaraki following, he did feel the fear of losing them again. Deku’s refusal to end Shigaraki irked him knowing what he was capable of but he had said he would leave him to Deku and he had. He couldn’t burn that bridge, flammable as it surely would be.

He shook his head slightly to clear the thoughts from his mind. He had his family here with him now and he would do anything to keep them safe.

Chiasa could remember the victory it was for Dabi to be taken into custody and locked away in Tartarus. Almost the entirety of Class A reunited in celebration of his capture and many a toast was raised that night. But several days later the celebratory mood was dashed as a consultant was brought in to assist in the identification of the uncooperative villain.

The man was called the Biographer, his quirk the same as the moniker. If he made to skin to skin contact with another person he could recite factual information about them such as name, birthdate, parents’ names, quirk, and so much more. It was chilling when he pressed a hand to the unmarred skin of Dabi’s hand and began to speak.

“Touya Todoroki, born January 18th at 9:55pm in the Chūbu region of Honshu, Japan, currently 33 years, 330 days old. Firstborn son of Enji and Rei Todoroki, elder sibling of Fuyumi, Natsu, and Shoto Todoroki. Quirk: Cremation.”

Of course it hit Shoto the hardest as expected but the class was close, a bond having been formed from the horrors of heroics at such a young age that they shared his pain. Even Katsuki had been sympathetic despite the hell that the villain had personally put him through.

The fear of learning something devastating was why when the Biographer stepped into his spacious office he tensed. Paternity tests could be wrong, couldn’t they? What if Chiasa just didn’t remember Shigaraki entering the room and the memories were locked away as a coping mechanism for the trauma? He was terrified that this meeting would create more obstacles for her, potentially even for the little boy—Todoroki himself had been an example of a mother gone mad from the sins of the father.

Kirishima elbowed him in the side, breaking up his thoughts and directing his attention to their guest. He was grateful that he and Kaminari had agreed to come, hoping it put Chiasa at ease just as much as him. She stood by his side, the little boy standing close behind her leg and gripping her hand tightly.

“Hello,” the Biographer greeted kindly. “I understand that there are a few questions about a child that need to be answered?”

Katsuki found his voice as Chiasa’s hand laced with his between them. “The only certainty we have are his parents,”—he hoped he wasn’t wrong in saying so—"everything else we need to know. We want the same basic information as we did with the villain Dabi, like we discussed.”

The Biographer nodded, turning to Chiasa. “And you’re his mother, ma’am?”

“Yes,” she replied, dropping his hand and crouching down to the boy’s level when he shrank under the unknown man’s gaze.

“Can he place his palm in mine for just a few moments?” he asked politely with a small smile. “It’s absolutely painless and he’s free to move his hand at any time.”

“Is that okay, honey?” she asked the wide-eyed child. “You just set your hand in his and we can learn more about you?” When he still looked unsure she added, “I’ll hold your other hand, and we have three strong heroes here to keep us safe.”

The boy nodded, eyes flicking up over her shoulder to meet Katsuki’s. “You stay close?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, walking around her to kneel on his other side. He placed a hand on his back. “I’m right here.”

That seemed to satisfy him enough to look at the Biographer who also crouched down. He extended his upturned palm out to him, patiently waiting until the boy placed his trembling hand atop it.

The Biographer smiled at him reassuringly, glancing at the adults on either side of him and hoping to provide the same comfort. Then he began to speak.

"Born on February 11th at 7:19pm in Nagoya, Japan, currently 3 years, 237 days old. Firstborn child of Katsuki Bakugo and Chiasa Minamino. Quirk currently unknown."

A sob broke past Chiasa’s lips, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. Startled by the outburst the little boy took his hand away to turn to his mother only to be swept up in a tight hug. He wrapped his small arms around her neck as his bottom lip started to wobble.

Katsuki felt like he could cry too as the weight and fear of uncertainty lifted from his shoulders, and even as he smiled up at his friends he felt the telltale sting in his eyes.

“Come here,” Chiasa said, reaching out to bring him into the embrace. He went willingly and wrapped his arms around them both, his eyes falling closed in happiness as he held his family.

He pressed a kiss to Chiasa’s temple and then to the top of his son’s head, the soft brown tufts tickling his cheek.

Distantly he heard the Biographer excuse himself and Kaminari offer to walk him out. Kirishima followed and glanced back at the little family with a smile. They deserved this. All three of them.

Still sitting on his office floor Chiasa had pulled their son—their son!—into her lap and held him close, the little boy still confused from her crying but happy to be with his mother nonetheless. Katsuki sat close to them, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and a grin still on his face. There were still a lot of things to work out, but this moment deserved to linger.

After a few silent minutes, Chiasa glanced up at Katsuki and smiled softly. She’d known since he told her about the small child while she was in the hospital but to hear it confirmed again was a melody she hoped would stay in her mind forever. But even though she knew he was the little boy’s father the child himself didn’t, and that needed to change.

It felt like there was so much she could say but no words that seemed right. She supposed that didn’t matter though, as long as this little boy knew his parents and knew they loved him.

“Honey,” she murmured, pulling back slightly to look in the boy’s eyes, “did you hear what that man said? Do you know what it means?”

That little pout returned to his face as he considered what she meant. “It was sad. It made you cry.”

“Those were happy tears,” she chuckled. “It wasn’t sad at all. It was really, really good. You know how Katsuki saved us?”

Matching eyes met his as he looked up at him, nodding. “Saved me. Saved you.”

“That’s right, he did. He saved us from Shigaraki and brought us home.”

“Saved us… from dad?”

She bit her lip, glancing at Katsuki briefly to see his jaw set at the false title. “Shigaraki isn’t your dad, honey.”

“No dad?” he asked.

Chiasa shook her head. “You have a dad. You’re the luckiest little boy because your dad is a hero who saves people.”

The boy turned to Katsuki. “Like you?”

“Sort of,” he said with a laugh. “What if I told you it was me? That I’m your dad?”

His eyes widened with what Katsuki hoped was excitement, and he leaned over to place his hand on his knee. He looked back and forth between both him and Chiasa several times, gaze on their eyes and hair respectively, before looking down at his hands where his right was on Katsuki and his left on his mother.

“You’re dad,” he finally said, patting his knee. Then he turned to Chiasa, tapping his fingers on her arm. “You’re mom.”

“That’s right, honey,” Chiasa whispered, one hand combing through his fluffy hair. “And mom and dad aren’t going anywhere, we all get to go home and be a family.”

“Family,” he repeated. “My family.”

He hugged her tightly and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, then he crawled over into Katsuki’s lap, throwing his arms around his neck and hiding his face in his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around him too, every nerve in his body alight knowing that this was his son. He was hugging his son.

“You’re dad,” he heard whispered against him. “My dad.”

“Yeah, your dad,” he said softly. “’M your dad and even… even though we just met, I love you. Me and your mom both do.”

He sighed happily into his shoulder and pressed himself closer. They stayed like that for a long moment, Chiasa’s lashes lined with tears beside them.

Katsuki wanted to stay in that moment forever, but he knew there were still a lot of things to discuss with her. So he pulled back slightly and asked, “Hey little man, you know what you should do?”

Owlish eyes blinked up at him from where his chin rested on his chest.

“You should tell Red Riot and Chargebolt about your family. I don’t think they know yet, and they’ll be real excited,” he said with a nod to the door. It was still open and they could clearly see the two heroes a few meters down the hall.

The boy looked back over his shoulder, considering, before turning back to look between his parents.

“We’ll be right here,” Chiasa promised. “They’re friends, honey.”

With a little smile, the child climbed out of Katsuki’s lap and trotted up to where they stood, greeted excitedly by both of them.

Chiasa took his hand in hers and laid her head on his shoulder. “This is amazing.”

He squeezed her hand. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“It feels like the sun is finally rising after a long night. Like daybreak is chasing away the darkness.”

Katsuki kissed her cheek, then tilted her chin up towards him with his free hand to kiss her properly. She was right—this was dawn rising after four years and four months of night. Dawn was finding her and their son and being a family after the darkness of the League had shrouded them for so long. It was fresh and new, filled with endless possibility.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips. “You and our son.”

“I love you too. And so does he.”

He smiled, looking out to where the small boy was speaking to Kirishima and Kaminari who were crouched down to his level and smiling.

“He needs a proper name,” she murmured, her head resting on his shoulder once again.

He hummed. “I think you’re right about the sunrise, so what about Asahi?”

“Daybreak rising,” she said with a smile. “Yeah, that’s our boy, Katsuki. Asahi Bakugo.”

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated!

Disappearance Masterlist

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cheshiresense · 5 years

Note

For the headcanon thing if I'm not too late. Headcanons for FemIchigo/Kisuke ship?

Lol you didn’t give me an AU? Guess I could throw them in the canon verse but the events wouldn’t be much dif imo. But let’s see how this goes.

Edit: Welp. This got long.

1. Ichigo keeps her hair long because of her mom. Masaki had long hair, and even if it’s not the exact same colour, Ichigo grows her own hair out in her honour, as a reminder of the one time she failed to protect her precious people and just because she’s never met anyone with hair as pretty as her mom’s.

The first time she gets into a serious fight with Shinigami, that dick Renji uses it against her. He grabs her hair, and taunts her with it, and in the end, she kicks his ass, but then his dick boss shows up and just about kills her. When she wakes up at the Shouten, she’s half-naked, wrapped in bandages, and her hair’s been sliced ragged, left in uneven strands around her shoulders where before it had reached her waist. Urahara is nice enough to cut and style it for her. He tells her he only knows how to cut it one way because a good friend of his used to wear her hair short. It’s cute enough, and at the end of the day, Ichigo would much rather keep her life than her hair, but she also locks herself in the bathroom later that night and has a good cry about it. It’s stupid, it’s just hair, it’ll grow back, but it still feels a little like losing her mother all over again. She gives herself twenty minutes, and then she gets her shit together because she has to go save Rukia, and Urahara promised to make her strong enough so she needs to get some sleep more than anything else right now. When she gets back to her room though, the rest of the Shouten is still silent but there’s a tray of tea by her futon, still hot, and too sweet to have been made by Tessai. Ichigo doesn’t even like tea, but it’s a surprisingly kind, amusingly awkward gesture from a man who knows too much and tells her too little. She drinks it all, making a face at the taste but appreciating the warmth that spreads all the way to her fingertips, and when she lies back down and closes her eyes, sleep comes easier this time.

2. Kisuke’s the one who carries her back to the Shouten after she defeats Aizen and subsequently collapses in the aftermath. He thinks it would’ve been easier if she’d been born a boy. She’s tall for her age and gender, but she feels more fragile like this, her shoulders narrower than her usual larger-than-life personality would suggest, her frame less sturdy. Even her bones feel more delicate. Then again, she’s still only sixteen and she’s already lost half her soul in a war she should never have had to fight in the first place, and a good chunk of that blame can be laid squarely at Kisuke’s feet, so maybe boy or girl, it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. She’s light enough that Kisuke can carry her without difficulty, but her weight still feels like shackles around his wrists, tied to an anchor at the bottom of the ocean, like the worst of his sins given life, and Kisuke hadn’t ever thought that would be something he’d have trouble bearing until now. But the least he can do is carry her home, so that’s what he does. He takes her back to the Shouten and cleans her up and heals her– it’s a routine he’s uncomfortably familiar with these days. He doesn’t know if she’s ever consciously realized it, but he’s seen her naked enough times to feel like a pervert. He was Onmitsukidou, and he’s seen Yoruichi change in front of him enough times that the female body doesn’t make him blink, but Ichigo’s young - old enough to have developed curves, young enough that his hands shouldn’t be anywhere near her (figuratively or literally) - but there’s nobody else to do it, Yoruichi is always inconveniently away, so Kisuke keeps his eyes and hands well within professional range, runs a bath for her that takes care of most of the dirt and sweat and blood so he only has to make sure she doesn’t drown, and then whisks her off back to bed where he can bandage up what his Kidou can’t heal before settling down to monitor her reiatsu levels.

She remains in a coma for a month. Kisuke is the one who takes care of her, from fresh bedding to sponge baths to IV-fed fluids, even trimming her hair when it starts looking too shaggy (she’s growing it out again, so he doesn’t cut more than what he has to). By the time she opens her eyes, Kisuke’s just relieved she wakes at all, and it doesn’t seem like she’s (physically) much worse for wear so at least his caretaking skills aren’t terrible. All the discomfort in the world can be tolerated if it means Ichigo remains as healthy as she can possibly be.

3. Ichigo doesn’t see or hear from Urahara or any other Shinigami for the next seventeen months, and she tries not to let it get to her. She still sees her human friends at school, even if she’s no longer welcome in a large part of their daily lives, and Shinigami probably don’t think a year and a half is all that long. Besides, at the end of the day, she knew most of her Shinigami acquaintances for a handful of months tops; that’s hardly grounds for eternal friendship. She’s hurt by their absence, but she keeps herself busy with school, with homework, with the part-time job she finds just to fill the hours in-between. She gets good at ignoring the fact that she knows where her friends go after school, knows where her sisters go, and that she can no longer follow them. Urahara doesn’t wear a gigai after all, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to. He probably has better things to do too now that the war is over and Ichigo has done her duty.

So it’s been seventeen months of mind-numbing (soul-wrenching) monotony, and then she gains a stalker. She would never have chased that thief down if she had known Ginjou Kuugou was so… greasy. She doesn’t just mean his hair either; everything about him oozes an oily sort of charm that sets off every alarm bell her mom drilled into her head about Stranger Danger, Female Edition, and it becomes clear very quickly that Ginjou is exactly the sort of man who just won’t take no for an answer. He follows her around, flirts like he thinks she finds him attractive, keeps inviting her out for a meal, even tracks her down at work, and Ichigo’s just about had it with him after he “bumps” into her while she’s walking home from doing the grocery-shopping, because she may not be a Shinigami anymore but she sure as hell still knows how to defend herself and kick a creep in the balls when he dares to sling a too-proprietary arm around her waist, as if he has any right.

As it turns out though, she doesn’t have to. Ginjou gets about half a second to touch her, still blathering on about having something interesting to show her if she lets him treat her to some ramen, and then he’s being ripped away from her, abruptly enough to tear a shout from him, and Ichigo spins around just in time to see Urahara twist Ginjou’s arm behind him at a painful-looking angle before slamming him face-first into a nearby wall.

Ichigo doesn’t think she’s ever seen Urahara so… openly violent before. She can’t stop staring for a long moment, because that casual, effortless strength is… not something Ichigo would mind seeing again. If nothing else, it’s clearly effective (and pointedly ignores the voice that says she isn’t staring because it’s effective). The look on his face though is positively serene, if you don’t count the ominous shadow that his hat is somehow casting over his eyes.

“I do believe Kurosaki-san has asked you to stop harassing her,” the shopkeeper says in tones so airily cheerful only an idiot would buy the act. Ginjou doesn’t reply anyway. He can’t. Urahara’s yanked his arm up high enough to let him simultaneously choke the life out of the guy, his hand about as movable as stone as it pins Ginjou’s wrist to the back of his neck and his neck to the brick wall.

“Hey,” Ichigo says, and then stops, because on one hand, this guy probably doesn’t deserve to be straight-up murdered, but also if anyone in Ichigo’s life can kill a human and make the corpse disappear, it would be Urahara.

But Urahara glances at her, then shrugs a little and releases Ginjou, only to knock him over the head with his cane, hard enough to send him crumpling to the ground in an unconscious heap. There’s a moment of silence after that, and then Ichigo remembers to be irritated because she’s no one’s damsel in distress. “I could’ve handled him, you know.”

It comes out sharper than even she intends, but the sight of him reminds her of how long she hasn’t seen him or any of her other Shinigami friends, and it’s hard to remain mature about it when one of them is suddenly right in front of her again. Urahara, because he’s Urahara, just rakes a too-discerning eye over her like he can see right through her annoyance to the root of it. His expression tightens with something Ichigo can’t name, but all he does is incline his head in acknowledgement even as he smiles in a way that makes her want to punch him. “Of course, Kurosaki-san, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t interfere?”

Ichigo gives him the flat unimpressed look that deserves, Urahara’s smile twitches into something more genuinely amused, and for a second, it almost feels as if no time at all has passed since the last time they’d shared an actual conversation. Then Ginjou groans, Ichigo bristles irritably, and Urahara’s smile fades.

“Kurosaki-san,” He calls out before Ichigo can do more than turn away. “There are some things you need to know. But perhaps we can take this off the streets first? Come back to my Shouten; I will explain everything there.”

Ichigo turns back, scowling suspiciously at the blond, then down at greasy stalker. Great. She should’ve known; of course it would be Shinigami business that actually dragged Urahara out of his shop and into his first interaction with Ichigo after seventeen months of radio silence. But… if Urahara is willing to explain just what greasy stalker wanted to drag her into, Ichigo would be an idiot to turn him down.

“Fine,” She grumbles. “I’m using your fridge though. I’ve got ice-cream in here and it’s gonna melt before I get home at this rate.”

Urahara beams at her and hefts greasy stalker over his shoulder before ushering her to the Shouten. True to his word, he tells her about the Fullbringers who’ve invaded Karakura, and he tells her that the Shinigami have been monitoring the situation, and then he tells her he has a way to return her powers and soul-spirits to her. He shows her the sword, engraved with a bunch of intricate symbols she can’t even begin to decipher, and it thrums with so much power even she can feel it. She has a sudden epiphany that it must’ve taken even a genius like Urahara quite a while to make something like this, because she’d asked around, before she’d lost the ability to see Shinigami, and she knows for a fact that fixing her soul should’ve been impossible. The realization that Urahara must’ve been working on this for the past seventeen months goes a long way to soothing any fair or unfair feelings she had towards him, even if she also thinks he could’ve just told her. But she thinks that, and then she thinks that Urahara probably didn’t because he hadn’t wanted to get her hopes up for nothing. It’s stupid, but so is the way he eases the sword through her chest as gently as possible, as if it makes a difference at all when that first jolt of foreign reiatsu to her system still hurts like a bitch. She thinks she can forgive stupidity though if it’s coming from him. Not that she’ll ever tell him that.

In the aftermath, the Fullbringers disappear one by one, and nobody says anything but an increasingly manically cheerful Urahara gets a lot of wary side-eyes from the Shinigami trooping through Karakura over the next couple of weeks. It’s Rukia (Rukia who never so much as passed on a how-are-you, and Ichigo doesn’t blame her, but she’s never going to forget it either) who tells her later about Urahara kneeling in front of all the Gotei’s captains and lieutenants and begging them to help, who bowed his head through the Captain-Commander’s orders to keep the sword back until a powerless Ichigo has drawn out all the Fullbringers, only to immediately disobey as soon as he got the reiatsu he needed from them.

Ichigo asks, of course, just once, why. True to form, Urahara doesn’t give her a straight answer, he shrugs and lies instead, “Well it isn’t as if there’s anything else they can do to little old me in exile, is there?” But for just a moment, he also looks directly at Ichigo, his gaze steady and calm and unyielding, like there was never anything else he could’ve done, like choosing Ichigo over the Gotei was a decision made as easily as he breathed.

Much, much later, looking back, Ichigo thinks maybe that was the moment she first fell just a little bit in love.

4. Somewhere between the Quincy War and Yoruichi and Tessai moving back to Soul Society and the kids deciding they want to experience high school and normal life at the Kurosaki household, Kisuke wakes up one morning to Ichigo cooking breakfast in his kitchen and realizes he’s sharing a house with a twenty-year-old college student whose Gargantas make for the easiest commute to and from school in the history of public transportation. He stands in the doorway for a long minute, just watching her go through the motions that have become routine at the Shouten for… months now. Ever since he survived the war by the skin of his teeth and ended up half-blind because Benihime is only a quick, crude fix when Kisuke doesn’t know the exact makeup of whatever he’s restructuring. He’d had to study that, and then get some hands-on practice, before finally re-restructuring his eyes one more time. Ichigo had been a big help. Kisuke had had difficulties reading, along with dizzy spells and crippling headaches, so even though she didn’t understand everything, she also spent long hours with him, reading out loud and taking down notes for him, cooking for him and keeping his house clean and even manning the shopfront for him when Tessai was busy with the Kidou Corps. And then, once he was better… well, apparently she’d just never moved back out, and Kisuke had liked the company (has always liked her company) that he’d obliviously taken her presence here for granted.

She turns around now, probably sensing him. Her hair’s almost as long as it used to be back when they’d first met, but she’s tied it up into a messy bun. She’s still in pajama pants and one of his shirts because she likes the larger size and she keeps stealing them and Kisuke doesn’t mind, he has more than enough.

Maybe he should’ve minded.

“Hey,” Ichigo greets around a stifled yawn. “Food’s almost done. Could you set the table?”

Kisuke makes an agreeable noise and starts pulling down tableware from the cupboards. The coffee’s also done so he pours a mug, and then prepares the tea with the water that’s just finished boiling. Five minutes later, they’re seated around the table, Ichigo grumbling memorized literature quotes into her coffee because she has finals next week, and Kisuke just… watches her. They’ve thrown the porch doors open because it’s summer and the morning breeze is nice. Ichigo has her back to it, and the sunrise that frames her head like a halo gilds her bright hair gold. When she finally sets her coffee down, she looks up and catches his eye, and even as her eyebrows go up in an unspoken question, the smile that blooms across her face at the same time is as much a reflex as it is genuine, like the mere sight of him is something to be happy about, and Kisuke is helpless to do anything but smile back.

Shit, he thinks, far too late. I’m definitely going to hell.

5. “I’m definitely going to hell,” he moans into the table. Yoruichi, because she is first and foremost a terrible best friend, is too busy laughing at him to console him. At least she came prepared with the sake when he called her in a panic once Ichigo had left for class.

“Took you long enough,” Yoruichi chortles, like this isn’t a Big Problem. “Tessai thought for sure you’d realize she’s practically your wife-” Kisuke winces. “-when she went off to college and still went back to the Shouten every night. But I’ve known you longer so I figured it would take you a while before it clicked.”

“We are roommates,” He hisses vehemently, downing another cup of alcohol before pouring himself some more. “I’ve never- Yoruichi-san, I would never- I wouldn’t-”

“Well that was obvious too,” Yoruichi snorts, but her gold eyes are suddenly a lot less amused a lot more focused, acute and unblinking on his face. “But you know, if she’s old enough to kill for you, then she’s old enough to fuck.”

Kisuke freezes, and then straightens, and he has never looked at Yoruichi the way he does now, but there’s ice in his veins and a knot of flash-fire rage and black-fanged guilt clawing up his gut, and he couldn’t stop the crass words if he wanted to, “She was old enough to kill for me at fifteen; was she old enough to fuck then too?”

Yoruichi doesn’t even flinch, just pins him with a burning look sharp enough to cut. “Well you didn’t wanna fuck her then, did you? But she’s an adult now, and she can make her own choices, and I know you suck at human-ing so I’m gonna go ahead and give you a piece of advice in advance and hopefully save everyone a lot of needless drama - in general, people don’t like it when you make decisions for them because you think you know better. So before you panic even more and start pushing her away ‘for her own good’ but really actually because you freaked out about having feelings, maybe, just maybe, ask her what she wants.” She grins like a tiger that has its prey cornered. “Ichigo’s not stupid. Even I don’t know if she knows about your gigantic crush yet, she’s surprisingly closed off about personal issues, but let me just remind you, Kisuke - she didn’t sit at my bedside, or Shinji’s, or even Rukia’s, after the war, and you know full we were all laid out for days, if not from injuries then exhaustion.” She leans forward and snags the front of his Shihakushou to give him a hard shake. “Are you listening to me, Kisuke? She cares about you, and you care about her, and I have not seen you this happy in a very, very long time.” She glares at him, daring him to argue. “Even if nothing comes from this, even if you just stay friends, don’t you dare fuck this up for yourself. You’ve got a good thing here. She’s good for you, and she makes you happy. And it’s not a crime to be happy, Kisuke.”

She lets him go. Kisuke doesn’t move for a long minute, and this time, Yoruichi waits him out. “…What if I’m not good for her though?”

Yoruichi clicks her tongue and reaches for her own sake again, limbs going feline-languid once more. “That’s for her to decide. She’s got a decent head on her shoulders, Kisuke; if you really were poison for her like you seem to think you are every damn turn of the moon, she would’ve dropped you a long time ago.” She pauses to take a swig, and then she kicks him under the table hard enough to make him yelp. “Now quit being a coward, drink your damn sake, and then go home and be disgustingly domestic with your roommate when she gets back. And if after all this crap you put me through, you still end up hurting her, I’m gonna tell Kuukaku, and she’ll make you wish you were just dead.”

Kisuke thinks about that for a moment, remembers some of the antics Kuukaku used to get up to with Yoruichi, and internally cringes. “Right,” he sighs. Yoruichi rolls her eyes at him, and he sighs again. Well, he supposes he should’ve known better than to get any sympathy from Yoruichi. He also mulls over what she’s said though, and… well. If nothing else, Ichigo’s choices are her own. Kisuke’s manipulated her into a war once already. He can’t - he won’t - do it to her again, for anything.

He downs the last of his alcohol and this time dares to hope.

6. They never actually sit down and lay all their cards on the table and talk about it. It’s not in either of their natures; Ichigo prefers actions, and ninety percent of Kisuke’s words have always been used to deflect and manipulate. But, for Ichigo, the Shouten becomes home. She never moves out (and yes, she knew what she was doing when she packed up most of her belongings and carted them over to the shop), and at first, it was just to help because Kisuke was so badly injured from the war, but the longer she stayed, the harder it was to think about leaving again for good. When Kisuke hadn’t said anything even after he’d fully recovered, she took it as permission to stay, and of course that didn’t do anything to make her like him less. She enjoys his company, likes reading in his labs while he fiddles with his experiments, likes surprising him with new recipes, likes being surprised when he modifies or creates yet another Kidou spell for her monstrous levels of reiatsu so that it won’t blow up when she tries it. She likes that he always tucks her into bed if she falls asleep at her desk studying, and she likes that he trusts her enough to walk around without wearing his hat all the time. She likes that between her strength and adaptability and his creativity and cunning, they’re more or less evenly matched in a spar, and the harder she pushes him, the more thrilled he gets at having to work for his victories. She likes that he comes home one day with something both new and still familiar in his eyes when he looks at her, and a month later, on her birthday, he takes her halfway across the world to a rare book convention with a focus on Shakespeare, and halfway through that, his hand swings out to tangle her fingers with his own.

They never really talk about it, but Ichigo migrates into his bedroom one night and never sleeps in her own room again. They take things slow, honestly more for Kisuke’s benefit than her own, but she doesn’t mind because mostly, she just likes having Kisuke there, with her. He still treats her like glass sometimes, like something priceless he’s afraid to smudge just by touching it. Those days, Ichigo sprawls across him with all her weight and stays there until he wraps himself more firmly around her, usually dozing off while Ichigo works on a draft of her first book.

They don’t talk about it. But they don’t have to, to know what they mean to each other.

#headcanon meme: answered #bleach #uraichi #urahara kisuke #kurosaki ichigo #fem ichigo #fandommaniac2401 #headcanon

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amethystpath-writes · 3 years

Text

A Gentle Blade Part 19

Part 18 here

I lied. The dinner will be next chapter. In the meantime, enjoy the tension pre-dinner.

@tears-and-lilies

******

"Have you thought up a new plan, Your Majesty?" Sir Guard only said it to prevent himself from acting gleefully when he saw Leera behind the queen. She was okay. She wasn't limping, wasn't groaning or moaning in pain. The assassin was okay.

Rennera ignored him, telling her walking captive, "You will walk over there, take the seat beside my future king and you will not utter a word until our feast has begun." Sir Guard watched the assassin make a confused look. He wondered what it meant, what the two discussed when the queen left him here.

As she spoke, the queen scanned the table. She bit her lip then said further to Leera, "If there should arise a time that my company speaks to you directly, you are to only say things that will be in my favour. If-"

Leera paid no attention, Sir Guard could tell. She met his eyes and they remained locked there.

Both parties of the stare felt relief. Both were a little more at ease seeing the other unharmed, or at least for the most part. The prince's hair was still wet from when Rennera dumped a tankard of water on his head. He was still adorned with the gilded rope, still uncomfortably tied to the chair he sat on.

On this note, Sir Guard broke the two's eye contact, looking at the assassin's free wrists, ankles, throat, any and everything that could be decorated with chains, rope, leather, or shackles. Leera was entirely free, so why wasn't she attacking? Only her lips had to be sore right now. Sir Guard figured maybe they tortured her while he was unconscious from the poison, but...Well, the assassin walked fine. There were no winces, no gentle touches to sensitive spotted bruises, no signs of complaint. Leera was perfectly fine, except maybe her lips. She hadn't spoken yet, and she was still at the other end of the table so Sir Guard couldn't tell if her mouth was still pained.

He glanced at her eyes again only to see hers had never left his own. It suddenly became very clear why she hadn't tried to leave already. A part of Sir Guard naturally assumed it might have been because she was out of practice, unsure if she could successfully take anyone down. This wasn't it, though, and he knew that now in her gaze. Leera wasn't going to leave him. The prince didn't deserve her- in whatever way he had her. The two weren't an item. He didn't think so anyways. Either way, Sir Guard didn't feel worthy of her friendship- or whatever it was they shared.

"Go. I told you to sit." Leera nodded at the queen before walking around the other end of the table, coming to Sir Guard's side where she eventually sat. They didn't look at each other now, and they wouldn't dare do as such until there was a distraction.

The queen tutted. "That won't do. Guard," The prince's attention snapped up to her and he shook his head.

He wasn't a guard, not anymore. He had no need to respond to that word except by Leera's mouth. Sir Guard, he thought to himself and almost laughed aloud.

"How many generals will there be?"

"Only two, Your Majesty. Then two kings and a..." The crooked guard who straddled Leera and taunted Sir Guard searched for the correct word. "An emissary, of sorts, I suppose."

"An emissary? What king is so cowardice that they'd send an emissary my way?" Rennera dug her nails into one of the decorative chairs around the table. She was still at the other end, but she was making her way to the head seat of the table now. All of the chairs were noble looking, with their brightly coloured fabricated cushions. They could almost be considered thrones. The queen's guests will sure feel welcomed, the prince thought.

"Thharewood, my queen." Crooked answered. "Their king is sick, has been for weeks now. The journey would surely kill him."

It took all of Sir Guard's might not to react. Thharewood. That was his home, his kingdom. He swallowed, listening.

Rennera took her seat with a hum. "Has he no heir to send away instead of an emissary? I feel offended."

Sir Guard swore he could feel his heart beating out of his chest. His hands were becoming moist with sweat. Despite his efforts not to, his eyes darted around the room. He looked between the empty tankard on the table in front of him, to the table itself, to the queen, and to his lap. The prince shifted in his seat, readjusting his shoulders against the chair and beneath the rope.

"The only heirs are a missing prince and two young princesses, Your Majesty."

"Missing prince, you say?" The queen admired her nails. Leera looked to Sir Guard; he felt her gaze like a soft whisper on the back of his neck. He never told her he had siblings. "I wonder what happened." Rennera hummed, letting Sir Guard know she didn't truly care. He felt relieved.

"Some think he drowned in the floods in the western valleys," Crooked explained. "Others think he killed himself after finding the lover he was meant to run away with dead in the woods." After a long awkward pause, he finished, "That is all I know of the matter, Your Majesty "

The prince scowled for two reasons. The first was this; he didn't know there'd been floods in the valleys. The seasons must have been changing again. It seemed like a quick change, and if people believed he died in those supposed floods, that means surely enough people suffered that the rumour was believable. Sir Guard wished he could have been there to help. Was it better to help one person through misery you caused or help many through a natural disaster? The prince felt more guilty than he already did for suggesting the former. He moved on from that, giving another reason to his scowl. This was that people believed he had a lover, even more so that he would kill himself for said lover. Sir Guard never took up lovers. It was too dangerous. Loving anyone meant putting them at risk. The world was filthy and enemy kingdoms liked to hold ransoms. No, he didn't have a lover.

Who would have guessed the prince went missing to punish himself for a silly mistake he should have known not to make?

"Two generals and an emissary," the queen said. She laid her head in her hands, elbows on the table. Rennera was thinking.

Does she not have a plan? Sir Guard wondered. The queen sure as hell couldn't tell everyone they were lovers, not if she intended on keeping him tied up like this. And he knew Rennera wouldn't release him. She didn't trust her future king not to do something, anything. Maybe the queen feared he would try to kill himself again.

The prince shook his head. He hadn't meant to almost die. His liquid tipped finger had so little on it that he thought it would only hurt, and he deserved to hurt for everything he put Leera through. Of course, putting the poison on his tongue was also proof of allegiance. He was so afraid Leera would think he sided with the queen that poisoning himself was the only way he could think to show he only wanted to protect the assassin. But, he knew if Leera had been able to say she believed him, he still would have consumed the poison. Again, he deserved it.

"-should stay in that seat. He is the future king, Your Majesty."

"Hm, I suppose you are right."

Sir Guard was thinking long enough to himself that he missed what the queen had been saying.

"Bring four wooden chairs then, instead of five. Two for the generals, one for the emissary, and one for my dearest assassin."

"Yes, my queen."

Wooden chairs? Two other guards in the room were collecting the throne-like chairs and dragging them away, while Crooked left to fulfill the queen's demand.

Two for the generals and emissary. Sir Guard had been so impressed that Rennera would be treating her guests nicely, all like equal royalty. Now, though...There was no way she had a plan, unless it was to piss off the generals and non-royals. Well, Dogars won't care. The prince's friend would expect it from this kingdom. The generals, though, would be quite offended at seeing how they were thought of as servants, rather than political icons.

His mind whirled back to Dogars. He never thought about his father assigning his best friend to do political business in his absence. If he'd have thought about it, Sir Guard would have actively hoped the king of Thharewood wouldn't do that. It wasn't that Dogars couldn't handle himself; it was that politics were terrible. No matter what you did or said, you were always doing the wrong thing. And to be in a meeting with so many other kings and generals, there were bound to be more mistakes than there were against just one person.

And what would Dogars do when he saw his very own prince tied up in golden rope, in their largest enemy's palace? What would he do when the queen said they were betrothed? How would Sir Guard respond?

Double-edged blade, my ass. This was an infinitely-edged blade. It was a sphere made of needles and everyone would be tossing it to one another tonight.

Crooked returned with the wooden chairs. Leera stood completely on her own, without the queen or the guard's instructions. Crooked had smiled at her, one side of his mouth lifting while his nostril flared. He set the chair down and the assassin took her seat as soon as possible.

Rennera commented, "Look how great my dearest assassin is behaving." She sighed. "I might actually let you eat a full meal today." Leera said nothing.

Soon after, a guard opened the dining hall doors, telling the queen that representatives from Eliaph, Harcose, and Termine had arrived and were directed to guest rooms before the dinner.

No Dogars yet.

Just as he thought it, the message delivering guard said, "The emissary from Thharewood was spotted a village away and should be here soon. Would you like for the others to be escorted to this room now, Your Majesty?"

"Not yet, but I do need you to take my assassin and have her bathed. She may choose whether she bathes herself or has a female servant do it for her." Rennera looked over to her two captives, "And Leera, dear, make it quick. We have little time, but I will not allow you to insult our guests with your stench."

"Might as well have our cell cleaned, as well. You are lucky neither she or I have become sick from the close living proximity of our own bodily waste." If he weren't restrained, Sir Guard would have taken a fake sip out of the tankard in front of him. "Not to mention I need a bath as well. You do a poor job taking care of other humans. I hope you don't intend on having any children." He heard Crooked take a step in his direction. The prince smiled as Rennera motioned for him to stand down.

"Very well. Send a servant to the assassin's cell and have it cleaned." Then, "Be sure my betrothed receives warm bathing water."

The guard who came in about the representatives began walking over to Leera, who stood as he approached.

Sir Guard didn't stand, not only because he was still tied down, but because he wouldn't have stood yet to begin with. "And for Leera?"

Laughing, the queen said, "She will get what is most easily accessible."

"I want her to have the warm water. Give her mine." He said this to the guard standing behind Leera.

"Excuse me, you are in no position to make demands," Rennera said, and her voice edged on anger.

He turned his gaze to her. "Well I know my arms and legs aren't heavily available," He wriggled beneath the rope for effect. "But my mouth still works. I think that's position enough."

It was fascinating to watch the queen's face twist in aggravation. He couldn't tell if she was acting or if she was really becoming irritated. Perhaps both.

"If you continue to be smart, I'll have you gagged again."

"Gagged?" It was the first time Leera had spoken since she came into the room. All attention went to her. Her eyes were wide, as if she were shocked and scared of her own action. Nevertheless, she continued, "You never said you gagged him, or that you would do it again." The assassin spoke slowly, and Sir Guard finally took the time to notice that her lips were still swollen, but much less than they were before. They looked more healed, but by Leera's slow speech, he could tell they were still sore.

Crooked stepped forward and this time the queen didn't stop him. His hand fell on Leera's shoulder and she stiffened.

"There's no harm in what she just said. Leave her alone." Tensions were becoming too high if Leera was getting thrown into the mix. Sir Guard decided he needed to mellow out, stop antagonizing if only for the assassin's sake. "I'll keep my mouth shut. Just don't...don't do anything to her. Please." He'd been trying to make the queen angry with him, not her.

The guard didn't release Leera until the queen nodded. "If either of you act out again, I promise that you will regret it." She hummed. "And if that isn't enough to convince you, think about each other." Rennera smiled, and Sir Guard could imagine venom dripping from her teeth.

Sir Guard opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. It was a simple question, a confirmation, but would she hurt Leera for it if he asked? Now that he thought about it, he had two questions, not one.

"Go ahead. Speak, my future king." He hated that endearment.

"You'll give her clean water?"

"Of course. It'd be exhausting if she got an infection somewhere or became sick."

He nodded, waiting for further permission to speak, so as to not harm Leera. Rennera urged him to go on. "I want to know what is allowed versus what is not ahead of time. You got upset with me for being 'smart' though you never explicitly said I couldn't. What are our limitations?"

This made Rennera think. "My dearest assassin knows her limitations already, I trust?" Sir Guard turned to see Leera nod. She took a deep breath as she did so. "So it is only you who is unsure."

The queen went on to explain that Sir Guard was only allowed to speak to 'my dearest assassin', unless Rennera specifically addressed him to speak. That meant if a guest asked him a question, he was to remain silent until prompted by the queen. He wasn't to complain about anything, even if someone asked what he disliked about his stay. Sir Guard doubted he would receive this question once they saw him wrapped in rope. They would know his stay was involuntary.

***

The assassin finished bathing and dressing quicker than the prince. This fact was mostly due to the fact that she had old and cold water. She believed it was regular temperature for some time, but they'd made her wait to get in until they found her change of clothes. The water was freezing by the time she slid in. Having said that, she slid out just as quickly. She wanted to wait, just stand in the sunset-lit room, but guards and servants ushered her out as soon as she dressed. Leera sat at the dinner table for nearly fifteen minutes alone with the queen and her new personal guard, alone, before Sir Guard finally arrived.

During her wait, Sir Guard had a very pleasant experience- physically. Otherwise he felt miserable knowing some rough handed servant was probably shoving Leera's head beneath the water to rinse it through. They were probably half-waterboarding her. All the while he got to lay in a tub, in a room, all alone. His guards waited outside...He had to shake himself of the terrible thoughts of Leera's treatment. Rennera had told the two that unless one misbehaved, the other was safe, and Sir Guard had been civil while he was escorted to his bathing room. There was no reason Leera would be in pain, only possibly cold from unwarmed water.

When Sir Guard walked into the dining room, he noticed Leera already sat in her seat. She looked at him, looked down, up, down. Was she apprehensive of him? Why? Nothing was different about him except that his brown hair- which likely looked black before- was perhaps a bit fluffy. He wore royal clothing instead of rags. Other than those two things, there was nothing even relatively shocking.

The prince peered behind himself, thinking maybe- just maybe- Leera had been nervous about something else. Maybe a guard was about to knock him on the head so that they could secure him to the chair again without fear of struggle. But there was no threat behind Sir Guard. Another guard, sure, but she was no danger right now. Her face was stern, but it didn't scream 'I'm going to club you in the head with the butt of my sword'. What was the assassin anxious about?

Sir Guard sat semi-cautiously, expecting every one of the queen's Guard to launch at him with shackles and chains, gilded ropes and dirty rag gags.

They didn't jump at him per say, but with the queen said simply, "Restrain him," they wasted no time in grabbing either wrist and forcing them behind the throne dining chair he sat in. He winced as the bruises from before made contact with the edges of his seat once again. Sir Guard was thankful, at least, that they didn't gag him.

Soon after, the queen called for a guard to bring in the guests. Sir Guard never found himself praying before, but he did now.

******

Part 20 here

#part 19 #leera and rennera #sir guard #sir guard being a smart ass >>>#love that man #using the tags to rant about how much I love Sir Guard and Leera constantly looking out for one another #Like leera speaking up about the gag which she clearly has an aversion to #she hates gags #and so when Rennera said she'll have Sir Guard gagged 'again'#Leera is just like 'Im sorry what??'#not just because that means she wont be able to get an answer like the queen wants but because she really just despises gags #okay rant over :)#long post #a gentle blade

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vikingsarememes · 4 years

Note

I love your Modern Ivar fics. Could you write something about Ivar coming home after a long day’s work, in pain and angered (maybe because of Sigurd). How would the reader react? A bath? A massage? A glass of wine? It’s up to you! 💖

Pairing: Ivar x Y/N

summary: Ivar had a very bad day at work and when he returned home, Y/N was there to make it all better

warnings: mention of bullying

word count: 1701

A/N: I really hope you like this one just like I enjoyed writing it!

After months of trying you were finally pregnant with Ivar’s child, you and your spouse were finally expecting a child of your own, after everyone told you it was impossible since Ivar’s productivity was questionable, you were four months pregnant and ever since Ivar discovered the news he’d create conversations with anyone he meets just to share the news and the updates on his child’s health.

You used to work as a high school teacher, but Ivar convinced you to take a break until you safely deliver the child, at first you opposed, but then he played the cripple card, and talked about his fears, the way his voice breaks when he speaks about those subjects was your weakness, so you ended up staying home, not that it was a bad thing, it was a little boring for your likings, but eventually Ivar would return home and make it up to you, whether with endless making out sessions or cuddles.

So it wasn’t unusual for you to prepare a nice meal and wait for your husband to return from his work, he was the IT specialist at Lothbrok’s company, family business, but your man was the best in his field, you were a little worried when he was twenty minutes late, he’d usually be hugging you now but he wasn’t here, and after an hour of being late, you started panicking, it wasn’t like Ivar to be late without giving you a notice, you called his brothers and they all told you he went out on time.

After two hours your husband came, the minute he opened the door, you rushed to him and hugged him, he didn’t hug you back, you knew something was wrong instantly, you pulled away and noticed the scars on his lips and forehead “Ivar, what happened?” you asked, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he limped to the couch, without answering, that was his way of telling you his legs hurt, you helped him sit down and pushed the coffee table closer to him, unstrapping his leg braces and lifting his legs up, Ivar looked down the whole time, even after all those years together, he still feels embarrassed of being in so much pain, he’d never admit he’s hurt, not because of his legs at least.

You went to the kitchen and brought the first aid box from under the sink and returned to your man, treating his injuries and giving him his painkillers which he took gratefully, you sat down next to him and placed your head on his chest, he immediately wrapped his arms around you, holding you made him feel at peace, you took his free hand and placed it on your belly bump, it took him a while to soothe himself down, to gather his thoughts, you didn’t say anything, you knew your husband well enough to understand he had a terrible day, you knew him well enough to know he’ll tell you what happened when he’s ready.

“Sigurd is an asshole” he finally muttered, you looked at him, waiting for further explanations “he pushed me off the stairs” he added, you decided that Sigurd was a dead man “accidentally but not that he tried to help me get up, I hate him” he continued “what happened love?” you asked so sweetly, he breathed “Bjorn and I were talking, you know, Gunnhild is pregnant as well, five months now, so he told me about how soon we’ll be able to hear the baby’s heartbeat, he said he cries every time he hears his little ones’ heartbeat, and that the minute I’ll heart it too, I’ll be a changed man” you smiled a little, remembering in your next visit to the doctor, you’ll finally meet your baby.

“Sigurd heard, he kept acting like a bitch, Ubbe stopped him eventually, but when I was heading out, the elevator was under maintenance, I hate the stairs, I fucking hate them but I wanted to come back to you, as soon as possible, so I took them, and Sigurd was there, we descended together” he sighed and took a deep breath, “he told me to stop talking about baby stuff, it was making him sad, if the child lives, it will be a cripple or sick, and if not, then it will be even sadder because eventually they’ll learn how to walk, while I still crawl my way around sometimes” his voice was breaking with each word until you were able to see tears in his eyes, you caressed his cheeks “I talked back, of course, I did, like I always do, but he shoved me in the arm, my hand slipped from the crutches and I fell, he just walked away, without a second glance”

“Sigurd is the worst brother of all time, don’t pay him attention” you heartened him and brushed his tears off, you got up and placed a kiss on his forehead “I’ll be right back” even though you hated leaving him alone, but after a day like this, your husband needed to relax and there’s one thing he loved to do when he wanted to relax, a fancy shower, you headed to the bathroom, and filled the bathtub with warm water, just the way he likes it, a little hotter than warm to stop his legs from aching, you put his favorite bath bomb, Jasmine’s scent, and candles, you put essential candles everywhere, your bathroom looked like a fancy one from a movie or Pinterest in ten minutes.

You returned to your man with his wheelchair, he hated it sight but he didn’t argue, he sat and allowed you to push him, being too exhausted to argue that he’s fine to walk, you pushed him to the bathroom and he raised an eyebrow at you “what? If you think I’ll let you sit and feel sorry for yourself you’re so damn wrong” he smiled a little and nodded, taking off his clothes, piece by piece, this you didn’t help him with, Ivar’s pride would be damaged the moment he thinks that you see him incapable of doing such a simple task when he’s in this state, he then helped himself into the tub.

You stood in front of him and took off your clothes, he likes watching you get naked, if it was up to him he’d keep you naked all the time just to admire your beautiful body, even more, that you’re with his child now, but this time, his eyes were focused on your belly, you sat down on his lap and relaxed on his body, letting the warm water take away all of your stress, you cuddled for a while quietly, until you decided it’s time to address the elephant in the room “Sigurd is just bitter, that he’s all alone now, and he sees his younger brother, loved, successful, better man than he’ll ever be, don’t mind yourself with his words, he’s jealous and pathetic”

“Y/N, I didn’t think you had this darkness in you towards my dearest brother!” he laughed, you traced circles on his chest “I don’t like people who hurt my family, you are the man I love, and Sigurd just made a pregnant woman very angry at him” you pouted, he placed a kiss on your lips then looked at you nervously “do you think it’s true? I mean, mother knew something was wrong with me before anyone else, do you have a similar feeling?” you sighed and shook your head “our child is okay, and next week we’ll visit the doctor who will only confirm my words, I feel radiant, so I suppose it means our child is healthy, your legs, it doesn’t happen genetically, you have my word as a biology teacher”

“They’ll be ashamed of me, for being a cripple” he grumbled and you held his face, making him look you in the eyes “Ivar Ragnarsson, have I ever told you anything that didn’t come to reality?” he shook his head no “then hear me, and hear me well, our child will be born healthy, with kicking legs, and they’ll grow up to be strong, and loved by us, they’ll see you as the strongest man alive, they’ll be so proud of their father who told everyone who told him he can’t walk, get married, have children, be successful on his own, to kiss his ass! They’ll do the impossible because that’s what they learned from you, they will be smart, and they’ll be loving”

Ivar gave you a little smile which you returned “they’ll have everything good from us, I know this because mothers always know the best! It will be alright, I promise you that” you assured him again “what would I do without you in my life? My queen, the only person in this world who makes me feel complete” he whispered against your ears, his hand was on your belly, this time, his touch was soft, warm, it only made you happy, he was feeling better now and you loved it.

However, his other hand gave your breast a squeeze, only earning a moan from you and a smirk from him, “you know, I’m starting to think the whole bad day act is just to get it your way tonight” you giggled, teasing him a little, he did it again and you bit your bottom lip “so what if it was? You don’t seem to mind”, “get your ass to our bed, I want you now” you whimpered and got up.

The two of you dried your bodies then headed to your bedroom, Ivar can’t physically pick you up, but he can definitely set you on his lap and make out with you until you reached the bedroom, the two of you had a very hot sex, both so lust for each other, by the time you were done, you were exhausted, Ivar ended up falling asleep on your arms a few minutes later, but you, you picked your phone and sent a text to a particular Ragnarsson “the deal between us is off, I will come after you Sigurd for hurting him” you turned off your phone and fell asleep.

Tags: @flowers-in-your-hayr @lol-haha-joke

#vikings season 6 #vikings fanfiction #ivar vikings #vikings oneshot #vikings imagine #ivar x you #ivar ragnarsson #ivar the boneless #ivar lothbrok #ivar the god #ivar x reader #modern ivar #modern au #modern sigurd #sigurd snake in the eye #oneshot #imagine #fanfic #vikings

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httpjeon · 5 years

Text

— 02. risk it all | jungkook

jeon jungkook/reader | light angst, violence | hybrid!au

wordcount: 2k

contents: hybrids held in captivity, hybrid abuse, fighting, blood, threats

― synopsis: a new alpha wolf is moved to the cage beside yours, causing problems with jungkook.

note: finally part 2! i hope you enjoy!

blog masterlist | series masterlist

You were awoken to the loud clang of a cage door shutting and sharp curse words being spoken with no care of those sleeping. Prying your tired eyes open, you sat up to find the once vacant cage beside yours now housed a very angry looking man with messy black hair.

Looking across from you, you found Jungkook was already awake and was sitting in the corner with his eyes on the new man.

"Morning, Jungkook," You greeted, bringing a smile to his face.

"Morning, sweetheart, you sleep okay?" His question resulted in a nod of response from you. He smiled, seeming to be in a good mood today.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" The new male snarled, the aggression in his voice making you cower.

"Watch it," Jungkook growled, immediately taking note of your stress.

"Who the fuck are you talking to, pup?" The stranger snarled, slamming himself up against the bars so hard that it definitely would have bruised you but he seemed unaffected.

"You got a fucking problem?" Jungkook growled, raising himself up to look bigger.

You shrunk back in your cage, watching in fear as the two predators released nothing but bloodthirsty alpha pheromones. What type of idiot put two alpha wolves so close together?

"You better watch your fucking mouth," The stranger warned, clenching his fists around the bars of his cage.

"Really?" Jungkook laughed mockingly. "Why should I?"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm older than you for one. A stupid little pup like you should show respect," The stranger breathed, eyes burning holes into Jungkook who continued to be unbothered.

"Yeah?" Another laugh from Jungkook. "In case you haven't noticed, we aren't exactly running packs in here. You'll be smart to watch your fucking mouth because you don't wanna piss off the others in here. You're not in the wild here,"

"Oh so the pup is giving me advice now?" The stranger cooed, sounding like he was talking to a child. "Why should I listen to a stupid pup who's protecting a pathetic meal,"

"Watch it," Jungkook growled, immediately understanding the man's words were about you. "You are to not even look at her the wrong way or so help me --"

"What? What'll you do?" The man muttered, grinning sharply now. It sent a little shiver down your spine and you whimpered, earning his attention now. "What is it? Are you scared of me? Good, baby," The pet name made you whine, throwing a helpless glance at Jungkook.

"I swear..." Jungkook whispered, chest heaving through his rage now.

"If you're a good girl, maybe when I sink my claws into your pretty little neck I'll make it quick so you don't suffer," Tears stung your eyes at his words, fear settling in your gut. Although, truth be told, your fear never went away. Perhaps as the days passed, you became accustomed to it.

There was only a single beat of silence before it all broke loose. Jungkook grabbed the cup, more a bowl really, of water and wailed it through the bars of his cage. It slammed loudly against the bars of the strangers cage, successfully splattering him with the dirty water hybrids were forced to drink.

"You son of bitch, I'll kill you and your little bitch!" The man was furious now, slamming against the bars of his cage and shouting expletives.

The commotion got to be too much and a few guards were forced to come over and break things up. You were hiding in the corner of your cage, covering your mouth to hide the little whimper when both men were shocked to subdue them -- forcing them to fall silent and let the joke go.

"Jungkook," Youngho snarled, his nightstick making an obnoxious clang when he hit the bars. "You better watch yourself or you're gonna find yourself in solitary real quick. And Yoongi," The stranger bared his teeth when his name was called. "This is your first day here so I'm gonna let it slide but one more fuck up and you're gonna be in for a world of hurt,"

So his name is Yoongi, you noted, as you looked at the new wolf.

When both men agreed to behave, Youngho and the other guards walked away.

Once a week, hybrids were taken from their cages or cells to have them hosed down and receive a bath themselves. It wasn't anything nice by any means -- not like floating through a warm river on a sunny day. No, it was being sprayed naked with a heavy blast hose in ice cold water that would leave you shivering for the rest of the day. Some even got sick if their immune systems had been weakened by lack of sunlight.

When you woke up, someone was hosing down Jungkook's cage, which meant he was gone to receive his bath. You looked beside you to see Yoongi mindlessly playing with something on the floor. He felt your eyes on him, forcing you into the receiving end of a harsh glare.

"What are you looking at?" He growled, making you cower slightly.

"S-Sorry..."

"Sorry?" He scoffs, standing up and walking to the side of his cage closest to you. "If you're really sorry, you'll come over here and let me have a little taste, I’m hungry,"

"N-No," You whispered, pulling your knees to your chest as you gazed up at him through your messy hair. It was a tangled, greasy mess from not being properly washed in ages.

"No? You're telling me no?" Yoongi snarled, slamming his palms against the bars and making them rattle and making you flinch. If looks could kill, you’d be long dead by now. "You're nothing but a snack for me, do you understand that? The second I get out of here, you're going to be the first one I come after you stupid --"

"That's enough!" A harsh voice snapped and when you looked you noticed it was Park Jimin.

You remembered him from your first day at the warehouse -- he had tried to nice to you. He was nice to you. In your time trapped in your cage, in the hell that was the warehouse, Jimin was frequently the one to deliver food to the hybrids. Every once in a while he was put in as a patrol guard to check on all the hybrids at night.

When he served food, sometimes he'd slip actual fresh bread to you instead of the crumbling stale bread you usually were forced to consume. Even though he was bullied by the other workers, and even hybrids were cruel to him, he still had it in his heart to be kind. You wondered why a person like him was in a job like this. It certainly didn’t suit him and he obviously felt sympathetic towards the hybrids.

"Are you alright, ______?" He asked, smiling kindly through the bars. He had learned your name and he was the only one besides Jungkook to use it, it made you feel calm to be called something other than ‘you’ or ‘hybrid’. Although he was once of the bastards keeping you here, it was still a friendly person regardless and you had learned to cherish the short interactions.

"Y-Yeah, thank you,"

"Pathetic," Yoongi snapped, still glaring at you. "I swear to God, I will fucking kill you all!"

You didn’t know if Yoongi was angry at you or his situation. On one end he continuously tormented you with threats and harsh glares but on the other hand it almost seemed like you were merely an outlet for his anger.

"Bastard," You knew that voice immediately as Jungkook. He was being held as usual by a collar and leash and wrists handcuffed in front of his body. Being put in such a contraption already set him on edge most days, he hated being treated like an anima, but hearing Yoongi's threat seemed to push him over the edge.

It was as if everything had finally reached its boiling point in him.

You didn't even have a moment to register what was happening when Jungkook was slamming against Yoongi's cell, reaching in as best he could with his hands cuffed together. The other wolf didn't back down -- both of them growling and scratching each other until there was blood on their hands and faces. It was as if they were feral wolves, ignoring the shouts of the guards and other hybrids around.

Yoongi wrapped his hand around Jungkook’s throat, snarling at the younger as he pulled him forward with a force that caused his head to slam against the iron bars. You cried out at the sight of blood dripping into Jungkook’s eye from the open cut now above his eyebrow. Jungkook didn’t back down, however, sinking sharp canines into the thin flesh of Yoongi’s forearm. The older wolf howled in pain, releasing Jungkook and tearing his arm from his teeth -- resulting in an even bigger wound.

You didn't know how long they had to fight before more guards, including Youngho, showed up. There was a sharp slam as Youngho hit the bars of Yoongi's cage, the wolf cringing at the sound and backing away to avoid direct punishment. The sound was so deafening, you had to physically cover your ears in pain.

"I gave you a warning, mutt," Youngho growled at Jungkook who was still glaring at Yoongi over a guards shoulder. Jungkook also had a claw mark on his cheek, blood dripping down his jaw and staining his clothes. "You're going into solitary,"

Those words immediately set you into a panic and you were standing, reaching out through the bars.

They couldn’t take him away!

"No, you can't take him!" You cried, tears filling your eyes as Jungkook was violently tugged away from his cage. Roughly, your hand was smacked and you cried out, pulling yourself back into your cage, nursing your bruising hand to your chest.

"Don't you fucking touch her like that!" Jungkook snarled, attempting to lunge to defend you but was held back by the leash and collar, choking him and sending him into a fit of coughs.

You sniffled through your tears, watching helplessly as Jungkook was pulled out of sight into a heavy metal door. You didn’t know how long you stood there watching, hoping they’d change their minds and bring him back before you finally sat back down and held your hand to your chest as you whimpered to yourself -- feeling utterly alone now that Jungkook was gone.

You were restless that night and while the cage wasn't exactly comfortable, you learned to adjust. However, as you attempted to sleep that night, you felt hot -- uncomfortable hot. While your hand ached, a painful bruise having been planted there and making it hard for you to move your hand, it wasn’t the cause of your restlessness. You tossed and turned and it didn't take long for the cramps in your stomach to fire up, leaving you whining in pain in a ball on the ground.

You didn’t even realize the noise you were making, soft whines and sniffles slipping through unnoticed. The last thing you wanted to do was wake those around you -- they tended to get cranky easily.

You laid on your back, panting and aching along your entire body. Sweat was beginning to coat your entire body but you were none the wiser to the cause. Perhaps you were becoming ill from the stress -- maybe it finally caught up to you?

"Would you shut up?" Yoongi snapped, obviously being awoken by the noise you were making. You opened your eyes, startled out of your fogged mind by his aggressive voice. However, when he sat up to glare at you, he saw the way you were acting. The glare wiped off his face and was suddenly replaced by one you could only describe as concerned. You didn’t even realize the wolf possessed the capacity to feel bad for others.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked, sitting up in his own cage now.

"N-No," You whined, feeling tears pool beneath your head on the metal. He sat up now, begining to inch his way over to the side of his cage next to yours to get a better look at you. When he saw you curled in on yourself, he inhaled deeply -- obviously sensing the change in your scent.

"Shit," Yoongi whispered, reaching through to bars towards you although he was too far to actually touch you. "Are you in heat?"

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts reactions #jungkook reactions #bts preferences #jungkook preferences #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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chinguwritings · 4 years

Text

A 3RACHA Fan-Fiction

|| Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 ||

A/N: Sorry this took even longer than the other chapter ;-; work has honestly just been driving me insane and running me down so much that I couldn't bring myself to write. I'm finall quitting this week though sooo hopefully I'll be back in the swing of things really soon. ~Admin Kay

Chapter 5 - Better Late Than Never

Genre: Angst, Hanahaki AU

Rating: PG (swearing, mentions of sex)

Word Count: 3.8k

Bright rays of sunlight peeked through Changbin’s window, making him squint as he stretched out his arms and slowly sat himself up in his bed. For a minute he simply sat there, eyes half lidded while he pent up enough energy to actually will himself out of bed, that was until he got a surprisingly strong whiff of freshly cooked food from somewhere nearby. Suddenly alert, he quickly panned his room and noticed a plate on his desk that was filled with breakfast foods and next to it, sat a little piece of paper. Curious to know what the deal was, Changbin quickly untangled himself from his blankets and made his way over to his desk.

Good morning, Changbin-hyung! I made you breakfast today. I hope it’s yummy… Enjoy! :)

~Jisung

A puzzled expression formed on Changbin’s face as he tried to make sense of the situation; was Jisung trying to prove something? After giving it some thought though, Changbin was able to quickly put two and two together, determining that this was Jisung’s way of trying to make it up to him. Of course, cooking him a meal this one time wouldn’t suffice as a proper apology, however, he did appreciate the thought and the free food.

He took his time eating what Jisung had prepared before heading out to the kitchen to wash the plate, but to his dismay, Jisung was currently occupying the sink to wash the dishes he’d used to cook.

“How was it?” Jisung asked, a bright smile on his face as he finished rinsing the dishes and glanced over at Changbin expectantly.

“Um…” Changbin cleared his throat, awkwardly turning his head away as he spoke, “It was good, thanks.” With that, he was about to walk back to his room and come back later, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Jisung approaching him.

“I can take your plate, hyung. I’ll wash it for you.”

When Changbin looked up, he was met with Jisung’s innocent gaze, his hand held out to take the used dish from him. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything as he handed it over to him, a guilty feeling building up inside of him as he watched Jisung make his way back to the sink. It was clear that these past few days, Jisung had been trying really hard to make up with Changbin with his apologies and attempts to talk to him, and now doing nice things for him… but Changbin, on the other hand, hadn’t really tried at all to amend things with Jisung; not once did he ever think about apologizing to Jisung or even just talking it out, even though he knew he was in the wrong too. He felt better about himself when he evaded the situation as a whole and put all the blame on Jisung instead.

He felt shitty for it, but he decided to avoid Jisung yet again, going back up to his room to change. On their off days, Changbin normally liked to go to the gym to work out and today was no exception. If anything, he needed it more today than any other day to one, get away from Jisung, and two, to relieve his stress and get his mind off of things, particularly his conscience; it was really starting to get to him and it was becoming a nuisance.

Once he’d finished changing, he made his way to the kitchen to pack his things, passing by Jisung on the way, who was sitting on the couch watching tv.

“Hyung,” Jisung called from the living room, hearing Changbin scavenging through the kitchen cabinets, “I made your protein shake already. It’s by the door… and I packed you a little snack for after too.”

Changbin froze for a second at Jisung’s words, shocked that he’d gone out of his way for him yet again even though the day had just barely begun. Awkwardly making his way out of the kitchen, Changbin mumbled a quick thank you to Jisung before darting out the front door to get to the gym.

“Ergh!” he grumbled to himself as he walked down the sidewalk, frustrated by Jisung’s actions. If his goal was to guilt trip him, then he was doing a damn good job… Changbin thought a good workout would ease his mind so that when he got back home, he’d be able to go right back to ignoring Jisung, but no. Every time he took a sip of the protein shake, and every time he even just glanced at the snack bag Jisung had prepared he felt sick to his stomach. How could Jisung be so kind to him, when all he’d done was treat him like shit? Why couldn’t Jisung just ignore him back?

Unable to finish working out peacefully, he decided to call it quits and head home early. Maybe it really would be a good idea to talk things through with Jisung; ignorance was a bliss for a little while, but he had to admit the burden of losing his best friend over his own dumb feelings was pretty petty and it definitely didn’t feel good.

“Oh, you’re home early,” Jisung remarked as he passed by Changbin, who was making his way to his room, “I was just about to prepare a bath for—”

“Don’t,” Changbin replied solemnly, making Jisung frown.

“Is everything okay?” he asked worriedly.

“We need to talk.”

As Changbin entered his room, he quickly set his things down before taking a seat on his bed, Jisung following suit and seating himself on the opposite end of the bed to provide some space between the two of them.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Changbin blurted, his eyes glued to the floor, too embarrassed to look up at Jisung.

“Why wouldn’t I be? You’re my friend so of course I’m gonna be nice to you…”

“But you’re being particularly nice today…”

“Well… it’s just… I really missed you… you were being so distant after our fight and just… I don’t know, I was scared that I’d lose you if I didn’t do something.”

Changbin’s heart ached at Jisung’s words; Jisung really did care about him a lot more than he gave him credit for. In the end, Changbin was the one not giving a care about Jisung and completely disregarding his feelings.

“No wonder Chan likes you,” Changbin scoffed, his eyes welling with tears as he continued, “Who would like someone as selfish as me… someone who doesn’t even know how to properly express his feelings or contain them when he needs to?”

“Changbin…” Jisung whined, scooting closer to him to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I don’t think that’s—”

“Listen Jisung, all of this is my fault, I’m sorry,” Changbin sniffled, “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you about going out with Chan and I shouldn’t have said all that stuff about him using you, I was just jealous. Who you date, who you have feelings for, who you have sex with, all of that isn’t my business, and I shouldn’t have gotten upset that you never told me anything… I didn’t tell you anything either so I was also being a hypocrite. I’m really sorry, Jisung.”

“Changbin, it’s okay… I’m not mad that you didn’t tell me. It’s just… if I had known you were into Chan I wouldn’t have gone for him. I think I’m more upset that you didn’t tell me you were sick… I’m sorry that I haven’t been doing a good job showing it with all my sneaking around and doing things behind your back, but I do care about you a lot, and finding out about your hanahaki disease when you’re already in the fourth phase is really concerning… why haven’t you said anything about it this whole time? What if you died?! You did such a good job hiding it too, I would’ve never known…”

“Well, if it was bad enough I was going to get the flowers removed. I already started looking into it actually. The truth is though, I didn’t tell you because…” he trailed off, letting out a sigh before continuing, “You know what… I should just tell you everything. After all you’ve done for me you deserve to know.” Taking a deep breath, Changbin prepared himself to explain his situation with Chan. He knew it would probably end in another flare, or maybe multiple, but now that Jisung knew the jist of things it was a lot easier to discuss the sensitive topic with him.

“So, it was shortly after we’d started making recordings for 3racha that I’d first taken an interest in Chan. At the time, liking a guy was pretty foreign and so I assumed that what I felt wasn’t romantic or anything like that. I thought I was just admiring Chan as a good rapper, producer, and leader. Over time though, my feelings for him started to grow stronger and maybe about a year ago, I realized that I genuinely liked Chan, and that I really am sexually attracted to men. Obviously, seeing as I’m terrible with expressing my feelings, I tried to subtly hint at it and initiate hang outs and what not, but really, nothing was happening between us. He seemed completely oblivious to my feelings and we kind of just stayed as friends… until the Christmas party this past winter.

After dinner had finished and everyone was hanging out down stairs, Chan pulled me aside and took me to one of the bedrooms upstairs. He said he’d stayed there before with JYP when he had events to go to in the morning. Prior to the party, we talked about buying each other Christmas gifts, but agreed on not getting each other to be frugal, and instead, just spending time together or something like that. Since we weren’t buying each other anything, I just decided to make him something really small, a bracelet. I’d made us matching ones and while we sat together on the balcony of that room, I gave it to him. From there, everything escalated; it started with him holding my hand, and then a kiss… and then next thing you know we were in bed together…”

Changbin paused for a moment, feeling the dreadful sensation that he’d been patiently awaiting starting to surface as his thoughts surrounded that night with Chan.

“Hey,” Jisung spoke feebly and gently rubbed Changbin’s back, sensing his unease, “You can take a break if you need, there’s no rush. Just breathe, and clear your head.”

“No, I’m okay…” Changbin sighed after inhaling deeply, “I’d rather just get this over with.”

Jisung nodded in acknowledgement before Changbin continued, “He never told me anything that night in regards to feelings or anything like that, and of course, I wasn’t going to be the one to ask, so I just left it. I kind of just assumed that if Chan was the one to make the advances, then it meant he liked me, but apparently I was very wrong to jump to a conclusion like that. Once we started getting back to work after the holidays finished, nothing. I’m not sure if I’m just being subjective about the situation because I was hurt, but it seemed as though Chan had actually become distant and a lot less… friendly with me. He was still nice, as always, but he didn’t talk to me as much as before and he didn’t text as often… he only texted me about work related things.

A few weeks after that, just barely into the new year, was when I developed the first symptoms of hanahaki disease. It was the worst in the beginning; I went from phase one to two in less than a week, but after that, I was able to keep it somewhat under control… I managed to stretch out phase two and three over the span of six months or so, with just occasional flares when I’d have major interactions with Chan. Before my recent recording with Chan, I was actually doing really well and hadn’t had a flare in almost a month. I thought I’d finally recovered to be honest… but y’know the matching bracelets I made for us? I still carry it with me in my pocket and when I was leaving the recording room, I accidentally dropped it and he picked it up for me… and then he commented on how I don’t wear it anymore… which bothered me because he only wore his for like, the first week after I gave it to him.

And also, I figured out that you went to see him the night before my recording, because I went to check on you right before I went to sleep, but you were gone. I didn’t think too much of it at first, but when I asked you about it the next morning, your reaction made me suspicious. Chan also seemed a little more tired than normal during our session so I kind of put two and two together. Finding out you and him were going out made my disease flare again, and worse this time… My fifth stage flowers actually started blooming last night, when you went home with Chan after practice. I went through stage four in less than a week, just like I did with stage one, but breathing and coughing up the petals is becoming a lot more painful these days. As for the reason I never told you about any of it, is because for one, after my encounter with Chan, I didn’t want to admit to anyone else that I was gay, and then I didn’t tell you I was sick because I thought you’d see me as a pathetic loser who’s so hung up on some guy who doesn’t even like him back.”

“Changbin…” Jisung whined, hurt that Changbin felt that way about himself, “You’re one of the strongest people I know, I would never think of you as a pathetic loser. You’ve literally been suffering for over six months on your own and you hid it so well that I didn’t even have a clue. I wish you didn’t have to go through all of that, but the fact that you could bear that is amazing… If I were you, I don’t think I would’ve been able to handle something like that by myself.”

“Thanks, Jisung… but I still think I’m pretty pathetic. I even got mad at you and blamed you because of my own jealousy…”

“If I had to go through what you’ve been through, I’m sure I would’ve done the same, you don’t need to beat yourself up about it… it’s really okay. The big issue now is figuring out how to help you recover. You know, I was thinking that you were right though, about only having spent a few days together with Chan and that I might be delusional about us, so I decided that I should just give him up on him, and then you’d have an easier time—”

“No!” Changbin blurted, turning sharply to Jisung and finally looking him in the eyes, “Don’t give up on Chan. You guys definitely have something special that he and I never had… I told you Jisung, everything I said before was just a load of bullshit that I blurted because I was just jealous of you. You should be with Chan if you really like him… d-don’t let me stop you.” Changbin could feel himself getting choked up, his eyes welling with tears again as he thought about what he’d just said. He did genuinely support Jisung and wished him happiness in his endeavors with Chan, but on the inside, it still hurt… he wanted more than anything to be in Jisung’s shoes, to be the one Chan liked.

“Hyung… don’t cry…” Jisung pouted, grabbing Changbin’s hand and squeezing it tight, “How can I pursue Chan if it hurts you like this?”

Breaking eye contact once again, Changbin hung his head, letting his tears fall down into his lap. He could feel his chest tightening with each sniffle, a growing pain in his thoracic region soon accompanying, making his face twist in pain. Jisung didn’t fail to notice the few petals that trickled past Changbin’s lips after letting out a few small coughs, so reaching for the small trash can that Changbin kept in his room, he knelt on the ground, placing the small bin down just between Changbin’s legs before comforting him through the painful process.

In a matter of seconds, Jisung noticed Chanbin become noticeably tense, the excruciating sensation he felt written clearly on his face as he expelled a bundle of petals into the container, right in front of Jisung.

“I,” Changbin started, obviously still in pain as he gasped for air, “I’m s-sorry you… had t-to see that.”

Jisung’s lips began to quiver and a lump formed in his throat as he stared at the green and blue petals piled in the bin, some of which were speckled with small, red blood stains.

“J-Jisung…?” Changbin addressed worriedly, “Why are you crying?”

Jisung hesitated to answer, sniffling and trying his best to collect himself before attempting to speak, “It’s so painful…” he looked up at the older boy through his glossy, tear stained orbs, “To see my best friend, and one of the strongest people I know suffering this much.”

* * *

The rest of the day went well. Besides the abundance of angsty emotions surrounding Changbin’s situation with Chan, everything was good. With Jisung and Changbin’s close relationship finally restored after their absence of communication for the past few days, they decided to celebrate by going out to dinner together.

“Good choice eating here, hyung,” Jisung hummed contentedly as he dug into his food.

“The last time we came here was for your past birthday, so I figured it’d be nice to come again,” Changbin nodded in agreement.

The boys were quiet as they ate, but of course, the silence was different from that of before; the atmosphere was light and comfortable, with two best friends simply enjoying each other’s presence as much as they were enjoying their food.

It didn’t take long for them to clean their plates, the two of them slumping into the big, cushioned seats of their booth as they waited for their waiter to come back with checks. They sat again in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until it was broken by Changbin’s phone buzzing loudly against the table. He sat himself up properly as he reached for the vibrating device to check who was calling, but when he saw the name displayed on the screen he almost had to do a double take to make sure he wasn’t crazy.

“Who is it?” Jisung spoke up, noticing Changbin’s sudden change in expression.

“It’s…. Chan,” he uttered.

“Answer it,” Jisung replied calmly.

Changbin was starting to look a little pale, the life completely sucked out of his features as he swiped his thumb over the screen to answer the call and lifted his phone up to his ear.

“H-hello?”

“Thank god, you actually answered,” Chan let out a sigh of relief before continuing, “How are you?”

“Uh… I’m okay…” Changbin replied nervously, “W-why?”

“Jisung told me you guys fought, so I kinda just wanted to check up on you… my gut feeling was telling me that it had something to do with me.”

“O-oh…” Changbin stuttered, taken aback by Chan’s statement. Although he was right, Changbin didn’t want to outright say, ‘yes, it had to do with you,’ but at the same time, he didn’t know what else he could say. As he pondered over what his next words should be, he ended up creating an awkward silence in the conversation, which Chan ended up having to break.

“Um… well if you don’t mind, we could meet up and talk about it tonight. I have a few things I’d like to say to you too.”

Changbin gulped at the proposal, still feeling anxious about the idea of facing Chan in a non-work environment. It’d been nearly half a year since they'd had a genuine conversation just for fun, and that was a little while before their one night stand… after that incident, he really didn’t know what Chan thought of him and it scared him enough to avoid speaking with him all this time.

Just as he’d been doing, once again, he decided he felt more comfortable avoiding Chan, but without a valid excuse he ended up telling him, “I’ll think about it…”

“Alright. If you decide you wanna talk, just text me. I’ll see you later,” was the last thing Chan said before hanging up, and Changbin let out a sigh of relief as he set his phone back down on the table.

“What’d he say?” Jisung inquired, seeing as Changbin wasn’t going to mention it if he didn't ask.

“He wanted to meet up and talk… so I told him I’ll think about it,” he replied nonchalantly, shrugging it off and hoping Jisung wouldn’t prod further… but of course he did, it’s Jisung after all.

“Why don’t you do it?” Jisung asked bluntly.

“I can’t face him…” he sighed, defeated, “I’m a fucking coward.”

“You’re not a coward,” Jisung assured, “Approaching a crush is nerve-wracking for anyone, but I think it’s hard for you to get over Chan because you lack closure with him. You’re probably scared because you feel like Chan has negative feelings toward you, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure he doesn’t. You should ask him what really happened after your one night stand; I’m sure it's not as bad as you think it is.”

“I don’t know, Jisung… It’s been months already…”

“Better late than never.”

Letting out another sigh, Changbin decided that maybe Jisung was right. Everything he'd said about him being scared and lacking closure was true and honestly, even though he was able to put it off for a long ass time, he did want to know what Chan thought of him and what had really happened between the two of them.

Reluctantly, Changbin reached for his phone and quickly scrolled through his archive of text conversations to find Chan’s. Upon finding it, he clicked on the text box and slowly began to type: “I’ll be free in about an hour if you still want to talk.” He could feel his heart pounding against his chest as his thumb hovered over the send button, still debating if he should follow through or not.

“You’ll be okay,” Jisung spoke up, placing a comforting hand over Changbin’s, seeing that he looked distressed, “In the end, you’ll be relieved that you talked to him. If you don’t do it, you’ll probably regret missing the opportunity… right?”

With that, Changbin let out a deep sigh as he nodded at Jisung and finally hit send on his message. He knew Jisung was right, and he knew that he would feel better afterwards, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was nervous as hell right now. Only moments after he set his phone back down on the table, it buzzed again, nearly giving him a heart attack as he glanced over at the bright screen.

[Chan 7:46 PM]: I’ll be there by 9

|| Ch 1 || Ch 2 || Ch 3 || Ch 4 || Ch 5 || Ch 6 ||

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shezza1854 · 4 years

Text

PICKING UP THE PIECES

Chapter 1. Breathing Space It was his palace now; this small ramshackle farmhouse. From it, he reigned over New Asgard like the king he was supposed to be. Yet, this king bore the heavy twin burdens of guilt and failure that drove him to overindulge in beer and food, forcing him to pack on the pounds and become the proud owner of a huge belly. In his sleep, nightmares plagued him, causing him to wake up screaming and throwing him into a deep depression. He was Thor Odinson, no longer the God of Thunder and Lord of the Lightning; but Thor Odinson, God of Gluttony! Silence hung heavy in the air as he watched her walking about the room. She said not a word, but every once in a while, a tear would fall as she remembered the emotional pain he caused her five years ago. He was just starting to feel his guilt then, and she was offering her friendship and support, only to be driven away. Terrible and ugly things were said, and they hadn’t spoken to each other since. It was her decision to come and see him with the intent to mend fences and, hopefully, to start again. She hoped he felt the same. Weary of walking, she finally sat on the threadbare couch and folded herself up into a ball. He cautiously approached her, unable to gauge her mood. He carefully sat down beside her and waited for her to speak. She looked balefully at him through one eye, never knowing whether to chew him out or just take him in her arms and forgive him. Heaving a huge sigh, she uncurled herself and got her first full look at him. Gone was the sleek black and silver armour with its red cape and, in its place, he wore an ancient pair of tan plaid pants, a pair of Crocs, a couple of shirts layered one atop the other; all covered by some sort of jacket. His beard was scruffy, and his hair looked as though it hadn’t seen a bottle of shampoo for about a fortnight to a month. In short, the poor man was a mess. He sat on his end of the couch much as he did on that bench five years ago; big hands folded in front of him and failure written in his eyes. He bowed his great shaggy head and started to sob. That made up her mind. She slid over to him and held him as tightly as she could. He, too, remembered that awful day five years ago, smiling a little as he felt his shoulders being rubbed. He looked at her, wondering how he could hurt her the way he did; returning her embrace. “Doc Strange told me everything,” she finally said. “I wasn’t your enemy, Thor. You could’ve told me.” “I know, my lady, but it was all too painful to repeat. The words I said to you were those of a spoiled child who revels in the pain and misery of others. I’ll admit I was surprised he brought you hereafter that,” he explained. “If you wish, you can end our friendship, and we’ll say goodbye here.” She shook her head as she chuckled at that notion. She leaned her forehead against his. “If there was one lesson I learned from that first day I met you, that lesson was there’s no getting over you, Thor Odinson. I’m here to give you a second chance and hope that you and I can go further than just being friends?” she told him. “I mean if you’ll have me.” “ Rossi, you don’t know how much I want that, but look at me! I’m fat. I eat and drink too much. I sit around and play games all day. Surely, you don’t want a mess like me who had failed everyone. Are you sure I’m the one you want?” he asked as she hugged him. “I guess I am the one you want.” She kissed him and patted his belly. She cared not what he looked like for she wasn’t too svelte herself. She liked men with big soft bellies for it meant they had plenty of padding to squish, and Thor had more than his fair share of squish. He shook his head as he tried to dry his tears. Excusing herself, she headed for the nearest Kleenex box. She returned to his lap, box in hand, and gave him two of its contents. He blew his nose and dried his eyes, looking at her again. “I...I don’t deserve you, Rossi,” Thor hiccupped. “I don’t deserve the friendship of anyone. I’m a fat failure.” “You let me be the judge of that? Over these past five years, I’ve grown quite fond of you, my big beautiful Viking. Yes, you did hurt me when you drove me away that first time. Well, my dear boy, you’re not going to do that again,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “You may be fat, but you’re no failure. I read the letter you left behind, and the words I read weren’t those of a spoiled child, but those of a remorseful grown man. That’s the main reason I’m here. It’s time to give Earth back her God of Thunder. It’s time to give me back my God of Thunder.”

“I’m nobody’s God of anything,” Thor sniffled. “In my dreams, I keep seeing my parents and Loki die again and again.”

He smiled sweetly as his again filled with tears. He had forgotten she was always in his corner, much along the lines of Tony Stark. He remembered her anger toward the Avengers for his sake when he thought she had no need. Now, here he was--a mess of a man who feared failure.

“I know how to clean up messes, including messes that walk on two feet,” she said. “When was the last time you had a good bath?”

The big Asgardian shrugged. He had gotten used to his own smell during the time he was in exile. He didn’t think he stunk, but it was obvious she did. She didn’t mean it to be unkind, but showing that she cared a lot for him. He looked at her and shook his shaggy head. She stroked his temple.

“That’s okay. It’s all fine. Now, I’ve brought some nice clean clothes for you,” she said. “Now, let’s get you naked.”

Mischief now twinkled in the ice-blue eyes. Didn’t Viking men have other things to think about besides sex? Oh, yeah, there was also that little thing called war. She paled a little when she saw his partial erection. He stepped into the tub and settled in the water with a contented sigh. She slathered a washcloth with soap and started scrubbing his broad back.

“Ahhh!” he groaned. “Gods, this feels good!”

“Okay, Thor, give me your arse!” she chirped.

He rose on all fours and broke wind. She opened the window to air out the room. When she came back, she found him lying on his back; his huge stomach exposed to the air. She handed him the soap and washcloth and told him to wash his front. He pouted a little but obliged. Again, she saw his cock rising for the simple reasons that the water was still warm, and he was scrubbing it. She pronounced him clean and told him to get out of the tub. She closed the window and told him to stay put as she went to get the shampoo she had also brought with her. He had pulled the plug out of the tub and was drying himself. She turned on the shower; this time to wash his hair. She knew he didn’t like people touching it, but she needed to get it clean; he needed to have it clean. She handed him the bottle and told him to wash it.

In his room, she looked at the mattress on the floor and had a pretty good idea as to why it was there. He was soon with her, and she showed him what she had brought. She had T-shirts big enough to cover his tummy and buttonless trousers that would stretch and caress his stomach. A bear hug awarded her efforts. His old clothes were still wearable but needed washing something fierce. He dried his hair with the towel than let it dry naturally. She next turned to the mattress and considered clean sheets for it. The ones it had on now, well, words couldn’t describe the shape they were in. One thing for sure was that they needed to be changed and, knowing Thor’s penchant to go into town for his meals, she would check out the town to see if there were any linen shops. His room seemed big enough for two people, so she’d build a nest for herself close enough to Thor so he could reach out and touch her during the night. He wouldn’t be alone when he had one of his nightmares again. She suspected that he had no one to comfort him in the past, but he had someone now.

“Let’s get something to eat,” Thor said. “You look tired, Rossi.”

“I feel as though I’ve been ridden hard and put up wet,” she said as she tried to stifle a yawn.

“Would I be pushing it if I asked you if you’d like to have a snooze with me?” Thor asked.

She smiled as thoughts of laying her head down on that great belly for use as a pillow danced in her head.

“No, I don’t think you’d be pushing it,” she replied as she tried to stifle another yawn.

She flopped down on the mattress and watched as the great deity take off his clothes. He soon stood naked before her; his great belly and erection proudly showing themselves.

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“WAIT...AM I HEARING YOU RIGHT? YOU NEED HIS HELP? AFTER CASTING HIM ASIDE LIKE AN OLD WHEN HE WAS GOING THROUGH HIS OWN PERSONAL HELL, YOU NEED HIS HELP? FIVE YEARS AGO, NOT A DAMN ONE OF YOU CAME OUT OF YOUR OWN PITY PARTIES TO SHOW HIM ANY SUPPORT OR FRIENDSHIP OR GIVE HIM A SHOULDER TO CRY ON. YOU CALL YOURSELVES HIS FRIENDS, BUT REAL FRIENDS DON’T ACT LIKE YOU ALL DID. HE ONLY SHOVED ME AWAY BECAUSE HE THOUGHT I WAS ONE THE SAME WAVELENGTH YOU GUYS WERE THEN ON. YOU TREATED HIM LIKE YOUR GOLDEN SLAVE OR YOUR GOLDEN LACKEY. THOR SAID IT BEST HIMSELF WHEN HE SAID: ‘NOTHING LASTS FOREVER, NOT EVEN FRIENDSHIP. NOTHING.’ WELL, HE CERTAINLY HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD WITH THAT ONE, IF YOU WERE EVER FRIENDS AT ALL. THE ONLY ONE WHO WAS IN HIS CORNER, BESIDES ME, WAS TONY HERE,” she roared at them. “FRIENDS, MY ASS! IF I LOOKED UP ‘FRIEND’ IN THE DICTIONARY, I WOULDN’T SEE YOUR PICTURES BESIDE IT. YOU’RE JUST COVERING YOUR OWN ASSES BECAUSE YOU DIDN’T WIN YOUR LAST BATTLE WITH THANOS.”

“Rossi, we’re protecting Midgard from him,” Thor tried to tell the irate little woman, but she was having none of it.

“THOR IS THE BEST THING TO HAPPEN TO ME SINCE JT. NOW, YOU WANT TO TAKE THAT AWAY FROM ME? WHEN ARE YOU BLOODY LOT GOING TO STOP?” she bellowed; her voice breaking.

She dropped into Thor’s chair. She had had her fill of Stark and his bunch. Cap tried to say something in the Avengers’ defence, but he got one of her deadlier glares. He closed his mouth and stepped back into his spot. He and Thor exchanged looks as she rose from the chair and left for the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

“Let’s go,” was all Thor could say. He knew trying to reason with her when she was in this mood was night onto impossible.

“She’ll be okay, Thor,” Tony assured him.

“I’m not so sure, Brother Anthony. The last time she was this angry was five years ago,” Thor said. “I know she misses her husband. Now, she fears losing me. I hope she’s here when I get back.”

The Hulk made an attempt but was warded off. He shrugged his big green shoulders and followed his friends out. Stark thwarted all attempts to reason with the Canadian expat and herded them out the door.

“She won’t listen to any of us, so we might as well go,” he said. “Thor, did she say how long she was married to her last husband?”

“Ten years, I think,” the big Asgardian replied. “She told me he was murdered by a group of of people call the New York Mafia.”

Stark cringed. That was one group of people with whom no one should mess. The wounds from his death were still fresh, and Thor was there to help her heal.

“All we can do is get you back to her in one piece, Point Break,” he said quietly.

The minute she was gone, she started to pack. There was a bed and breakfast in town where she could clear her mind and decide on her next moves. Yes, she’d go back to him because she didn’t want to see him drink himself into the ground. He deserved a good long happy life.

Why couldn’t she give that to him? It was for the simple reason that the Avengers kept getting in the way. She could remember when he first came to Midgard as an arrogant spoiled Asgardian prince who thought humans were petty and tiny. Well, a lot of water had gone over the Falls since then, and the prince change his mind. She and her fellow humans welcomed the deity with open arms once he cut out the arrogance and snobbery. He had certainly mellowed during his time here and she, for one, was glad for the change. She now sat in the diner, picking at her food and wondering about her future.

The memory of what he said about being a good man rather than king made her smile. Thor was the polar opposite of his father--a man who, once during his numerous rages, almost beat the young Thor to death. Thor treated the people of Midgard with love, thoughtfulness--words that never were in Odin’s vocabulary. Thor learned that, if you treat people right, they’d treat you right.

Things his father never learned.

She pushed her plate aside and stared out the window, thinking of what her life would be like without the big Asgardian. God only knew that she couldn’t compete with Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. The only solution was now staring her in the face, and that was to give Thor over to the Avengers and just walk away. She spent this long without anyone; hell, what’s a little longer?

“G’day!” a voice said, making her jump. “Food’s usually pretty good here.”

“Mmmm...what?” she asked as she came out of her daydream.

“Kip Hemsworth,” the voice continued. “I was wondering if you’re okay. If ya don’t wanna talk, I’ll understand.”

Tears of relief coursed down her cheeks. Who sent this guy? Sure, he was a stranger, but she desperately needed to talk to someone. Besides, weren’t strangers friends one had yet to meet?

“Rossi Sullivan--hi,” she sniffled as she watched her small hand disappear into his giant paw.

“Mind?” he asked as he pointed to the bench opposite her.

“Park it,” was all she said before going silent.

When she got her first good look at him, her jaw dropped because she couldn’t believe what she was seeing--sandy blond hair, blue eyes that looked right into her soul and, before he sat down, 6′3″ in height. How could three men look so much alike without being related?

“I don’t know where to start,” she said.

“The beginning is always good,” he said.

She sighed as the waitress appeared.

He ordered her a grilled ham and cheese and a cuppa; for himself, steak and eggs and a beer.

She told him everything--how she left North America to become a British citizen and how her husband was murdered by the New York Mafia, cutting her last ties with that continent.

“Sorry, I must be boring you. Here I am prattling on, and you haven’t gotten a word in edgewise, she said.

“No worries,” Kip said, taking a sip from his beer. “So, what do you do in London?”

“I brought my mother’s family home, so to speak. I’m half British blood, and I have my British passport. After the 2012 Games, I started the process of becoming a British citizen. I now have a lovely little flat right above Sherlock Holmes and John Watson,” she said. “I have a job with Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.”

Kip just looked at her when she said that. Weren’t Sherlock Holmes and John Watson fictional characters? She just smiled and assured him that they were just as real as she and him were. She pulled out her tablet and went to Tumblr. There was an article about her solving the Regents Park Zoo murders and putting a huge dent in Holmes’ ego. She also dented his ego when she found the person causing all the trouble with the weather on the Westminster tube. She pulled up a picture of Holmes and Watson and showed it to him. Kip just staring at it, trying to wrap his head around the idea that pair was real.

“So, how long were you and JT married?” Kip asked before taking another bite of steak.

“”We were married fifteen years...,” he voice trailed off and she bowed her head.

‘Hemsworth, you idiot!’ Kip berated himself as he pulled her close.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he whispered as he pulled her close.

“It’s okay, Kip. I was just thinking about our life together, and how we were hoping to grow old together.”

“I’ll soon have to go back to Stralia, but how about we travel together to England? I can stay for a few days, and you can show me London and, maybe someday, you can come and see me?” Kip offered cheerfully.

“I’d like that, “ she murmured as she smiled at him through her tears. “So what do you do besides go searching for the perfect wave?”

“I’m a sheep rancher in the Outback,” he replied as he finished the last bit of his steak and eggs. “I’ve got one of the bigger stations.”

“You don’t run it by yourself?” she asked as she swallowed her last bit of tea.

“Nope! It’s usually just Liam and I. Liam’s my youngest brother,” Kip said.

She went white. What were the odds of two men having a brother named Liam?

All Kip knew about Chris was that he was an actor and he played a god.

Kip was constantly smiling, bless his Aussie heart. He was smiling now, and she smiled back.

“Are you alright, Rossi?” he asked now.

She nodded. Sure, she was a bit weary, but fine.

“I was thinking of Thor,” she said.

“Ah, your fella. Now, the truth comes out!” Kip teased.

“May I bring your check?” a voice cut into the conversation.

“I guess there’s no time like the present,” she said before turning the tablet on again.

She tapped the Tumblr icon and found a picture of Chris as he look in Thor: The Dark World. She swallowed once and showed the picture to Kip. Beer flew everywhere, and the rancher started coughing. She put the tablet down and slapped him between the shoulders. He held his hands up in an attempt to get her to stop. He stared at the picture, speechless, for the next few minutes.

‘I’ve come this far. I might as well go all the way,’ she thought.

She found a picture of Chris being his charming goofy Aussie self at a convention.

“Um...Kip?” she said.

“Yeah?” he said. “What have you got there?”

She handed him the tablet, and the poor man went as white as a sheet of paper. She was beginning to suspect that this was the first time he ever slapped eyes on Chris. They headed for the airport. Purchasing their tickets for Heathrow and checking their suitcases, they headed for the lounge to await their flight. She glanced at him and felt the tears come again.

“So you’re leaving him?” Kip asked.

“I’m not leaving him. I’m giving him breathing space so he can get his priorities in order. I left him a letter stating as such because I can’t compete with the Avengers--you know, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. I’d call them Earth’s Mightiest Homewreckers, but that’s just me. All Tony Stark has to do is snap his fingers, and Thor gallops off like some obedient Golden Retriever. I’ve had it with Tony Stark and his bunch. Five years ago, his so-called friends, the Avengers, never lent him a shoulder to cry on or talk to him about the hell he was going through. That hell was the death of his parents and his brother, Loki, plus his feelings of failure. I called the Avengers out on the carpet, but he went anyway...I’m sorry!”

“Come here, Rossi,” Kip said.

“I’m sorry for dumping this all on you,” she said as she fell into his embrace.

“It’s alright. I asked,” he said as he held her.

She pulled some Kleenexes from pocket as she smiled moistly at him.

He was one of the good ones, this lad.

When she finally got her act together, he held her out at arms’ length.

“Still have feelings for him?” he asked.

“Yeah. There’s just no getting over Thor Odinson,” she said.

#chris hemsworth #thor x ofc #thor fic

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divagonzo · 4 years

Text

Quarantine (Romione, One-shot)

Ao3 // FF.net (will post them there tomorrow but Tumblr gets the first crack tonight)

A/N: I’d intended to have this posted last week but RL got in the way and so much fell onto my plate as “back-up daughter” to friends who are out of state for their elderly parents. What little time I had was claimed by so many other things too. I know there is a Princess somewhere mad that RL interfered in my life once again. One of these years my life will be only dramatic in the stories I write. Alas.

Rated M (so much smutty goodness in this one!) for Lemons, Limes, Citrus galore. Not Ace Safe in the least (This means you @headcanonsandmore)

TW: Mentions of current British events involving a towheaded cockwomble and his deputy. Tagging @hillnerd and @abradystrix just ‘cause.

Give me my demarcation line darn it!

“I swear to Merlin that I am going to strangle that sod,” Hermione growled before putting the two-way mirror down in her office. “That cockwomble!”

“Love?” Ron poked his head in, wondering what got Hermione into a bit of lather this morning from her noon call with the Muggle PM.

Hermione took off her reading glasses and rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, wondering how much more cocked up the world was going to be in the interim.

“What’s happened, dear?” Ron stood at the doorway, wondering too what was going on. “I heard you cursing. Did you speak with that tosser of a PM?”

“I did,” She hissed. “Do you remember that boring ministry dinner we attended last weekend? The one where I was seated across from the PM and his partner, talking boring politics while you tried to keep from complaining about the rubbish chicken they served for the main course?”

“Of course. Who could forget that Merlin awful chicken that even you could cook a better one than what was presented to us? Who did they get to cater it, Malfoy?”

“You’d think, right? Anyway, it seems the PM has gone and contracted some virus, one that appears to be worse than the flu for some people. Unfortunately, now, since we were within close contact with the bastard,”

“Please don’t tell me.”

“We’re quarantined for a fortnight because that sod insisted on shaking everyone’s hand when they arrived, including yours.”

“Shite.”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought too. At least the kids were off at school.”

“That – “ Hermione tuned out for Ron’s caustic rant about the current PM who seemed to have less brains than Flint seems to possess. “I can’t believe he did that.”

“So we have to be home, inside, for 2 weeks. We can’t even go out shopping for groceries, you to work, anything.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“I know. Fortunately, we’ve not been to see your parents since we met with the PM.”

“And your parents?”

“I’ve only talked with them on the phone. I’ve not been by there in 2 weeks.”

“Harry & Ginny. I mean she is at home with a toddler and Harry’s been working on a case for weeks now with his group. I had a meeting with him last week to discuss training for the new class coming in.”

“Then we need to tell him and others and let them decide.”

“Bugger. How bad is this virus?”

“From what he said, most people get a little sick but it’s not a big deal. The problem is that for one in five, it’s serious enough for a visit to the A&E. From what he said also, there’s about 1 in 20 that need critical care.” Hermione sat back in her leather office chair, sighing. “I need to contact St. Mungo’s and let them know to prepare for this. I think I also need to share this with the Wizarding population, too, so they can take care of themselves too.”

“That bad?”

“You know how I talk about history entirely too much?”

Ron grinned, thinking about how often Hermione would pick up a tome for a bit of light reading. “Of course I do. Last year you were reading something on the Dark Ages. Seemed quite bad.”

“Oh, it was. It was how a plague back in the 14th century and how it decimated the European population.”

“Sounds grim.”

“It was. There are articles by historians that the plague killed between 25 and 50 per cent of the population of Europe. Only a few places were reasonably immune to it.”

Ron frowned. “Please tell me it won’t be that bad for us.”

“It won’t. We have better medicines and potions to take now unlike back then. We have a level of hygiene now that makes the transmission less likely.”

Ron said, “You mean how we take a bath or a shower daily?”

“That and always washing hands when coming out of the loo.”

“Who wouldn’t? That’s gross.”

Hermione grimaced. “You know there are plenty of men who don’t wash their hands.”

“True and they’re disgusting.”

“Anyway, we’re going to be home awhile.”

“We’ll need some groceries to tide us over.”

“I’ll firecall Neville and let him know to keep the kids at Hogwarts until this passes for us.”

“Good idea. Looks like we’re going to break out that industrial-sized Mirror you got for me when I was laid up on bed rest with the kids.”

“I’ll go get it and put it up in here for you.” Ron stopped. “So if you’re infected, then I am too, right?”

Hermione smiled, thinking of a delightful Sunday lie-in they had last weekend. “Yes, you would be.”

“Well since I’m on the same broom you are, it’s not like you have to sleep on the couch or anything.”

“No, neither of us has to sleep on the couch.” Hermione stood up from her leather office chair and went to the doorway, pushing her husband gently into the doorframe. With a glance, she ran her fingers through the fringe and his hair, appreciating the softness of the hair on his head. “And no illness will keep me from doing this,” She stood on her tiptoes to gently kiss him.

Ron reached for her hips and pulled her body flush to his own. “Keep that up and we won’t get any work done this afternoon.”

Hermione kissed him on the nose before pulling his head forward, resting her forehead on his. “And once again, you’re right. I did say I needed to do a couple of things before this evening.” She sighed. “But I would enjoy dessert tonight.” Her smile turned wicked. “I think we would both appreciate some quality stress relief.”

Ron pulled her close again, snogging her breathless. “I’ll hold you to it.” He hugged her tight, pressing his nose into her hair. “I’ll go get the mirror out of storage and set it up. Then I’ll firecall everyone to warn them off, including Harry and Ginny.”

“I admit this is going to be, well, interesting.”

Ron erupted in a cheeky grin. “Remember the last time we had a fortnight to ourselves?”

“You mean that little cottage in the French Alps at Mont Fort? That was quite nice of Fleur’s parents to rent it out for us for that holiday.” Hermione smiled thinking of that particular Holiday. “The Muggles only saw one hut out there in the middle of nowhere but didn’t see the Wizarding village down the side of the mountain. I don’t know of any Holiday we’ve ever taken that was better than the one there.”

“You certainly weren’t complaining that we were snowed in that week and slept in front of the fireplace every night to stay warm.” Ron ran his hands along her face. “And to think, nine months later Rose came along.”

Hermione snuggled into his chest. “So you’re hoping for that again, aren’t you?”

“That’s up to you, love. While I would never turn down another child, it’s not my decision, is it?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t be on bed rest for months if I was again?”

“You weren’t with Hugo.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Hermione stood on her toes and kissed Ron again. “But first, we have to take care of the business stuff.”

Ron kissed Hermione on the nose. “I’ll get your mirror up in a moment, right after I talk with Mum and Dad.”

Ron left Hermione in her office while she considered how she was going to do her job to her standards while stuck at home for a fortnight.

Demarcation line for the win!

Ron finished with the last dish in the sink after their dinner of cottage pie and salad. The grocery budget shrunk back down to a reasonable amount once the kids went back to Hogwarts after Winter Hols. He didn’t mind since the kids had everything he lacked growing up, with enough food to feed a small army every meal for them and provided them treats from time to time as well. But the household budget would strain slightly with two teenagers eating their weight daily. How his parents managed all the kids on his Dad’s meagre salary he’d never understand except to respect his Mum and her skills.

Two small yet strong arms wrapped around his midsection, hugging her front to his back. “I’m so glad you’re home with me. I’d go completely mental if I had to spend two weeks away from you during this barmy time.”

Ron pulled Hermione to him, lifting her onto the ledge of the counter. The kids never noticed that the counters were the perfect height for him and a little tall for Hermione. She didn’t mind, not when they were still young and working too hard and grabbed a shag whenever they could manage it those early days of owning their cottage. Tonight, though, they had plenty of time on their hands. His hands went to her thighs, rubbing his calloused hands up and down her smooth skin. “I’d have walked into our quarantine to keep you company during this time. Might I remind you that our vows said In Sickness and in Health? I think this qualifies as in sickness.”

“It’s not like I even feel off. Maybe it’s that cockwomble of a PM who is an idiot.”

Ron opened her pyjama top, exposing her chest to him. It was almost 25 years after the fact and even with all of the changes to her body from having kids, the curse scar along with the gold galleon burns along her chest never faded. They’d healed up well enough but those early days, when he was still learning every square inch of her body, he’d kiss each scar, each burn spot, each memento of a moment when her bravery cost something, some bit of pain in their lives. “Fucking gorgeous,” he growled. “Damn gorgeous.”

“You’re barking,” she smiled as she worked at lifting the tee shirt up his torso, leaving small kisses on various freckles on his body. He finished the job, tossing the shirt behind him so she could appreciate his body. While he wasn’t out running with the kids daily now since his ankle ached a bit from time to time, he wasn’t a gangly teenager like he was at 14. He’d filled out some and put on some muscle on his shoulders and back which Hermione never failed to appreciate. “Deep in thought?” she asked.

Ron looked back at his wife and saw her smirk. “Yeah, just wish I’d been able to tell 14-year-old me to quit being such a tosser and that he’d eventually get the girl of his dreams.”

“You’d already had me but I had to learn to appreciate you,” She worked her hands down his lean torso, settling them on the tops of his hips. “How could I have been so stupid to not realize that you express love to people by giving your time and affection in doing things for people. Once I figured you out, I realized you’d been telling me for years how much you loved me. Once I realized that I was being selfish in thinking you had to express affection the way that I understood you so much more.” She pulled his hips close, feeling his sleep trousers straining the front. “I’m glad I pulled my thumb out.” She grinned at him before shrugging out of her top, leaving her in her skin. “And I’m glad that you put something special in.”

Ron laughed but dropped his sleep trousers, leaving him in his skin. “You mean like you want right now?” he stepped between her knee and then pulled her hips forward to the edge of the countertop.

She pulled on the back of his head down for a tempestuous kiss, feeling his excitement poking her thighs. Releasing his lips for a moment, she breathed, “here or somewhere else?”

Ron lifted his hands from the sides of her hips to her breasts, feeling the tips harden under his fingertips. “Oh we’re staying here,” He cheeked before kneeling before her. “I want dessert first.”

Hermione leaned back on the counter, holding onto the edge while Ron feasted on her tender flesh, giving her so much pleasure and joy that if she could cry, she would. Instead, she let go, embracing the vulnerability she could express with her husband. Ron was the only one on the planet who could quiet the racing raging thoughts in her head, slow down the near-constant anxiety that she had to always be the best at everything, and temper her sharp edges that so many others presumed about her.

A shudder rippled through her body followed by the frisson that she gladly welcomed, all given freely by her wonderful husband. She reached out and found the soft ginger hairs on his head and ran her fingers through them, appreciating the solid feeling under her fingertips while he used his to make her groan in ecstasy.

Another rush of pleasure coursed through each nerve in her body, leaving her quivering in the abundance of sensory overload. She would never tell anyone besides Ron but what he did for her before they had sex was her favourite part. Everything he brought to their intimate moments only magnified how much she adored him.

Two hands reached up her body to tease her breasts, pinching the tips under his well-practised fingers.

“Oh God,” She moaned and felt the jolt of pleasure erupt from her core, spreading out to her fingertips and toes.

When she could open her eyes, Ron was standing in front of her, patiently waiting for her approval. She nodded once, having lost the capability to speak anything coherent some time ago, and felt the pleasure of having his cock inside her.

“Shit, this is fucking amazing,” he kept still for a moment to make sure she was ready. Twenty plus years of making love to this wonderful man – and the shagging and, as crudely as it was factual, the fucking – she never grew tired of it. Like the loaves of bread he made for Sunday lunch for the family, he never let it grow stale or trite.

Hermione reached up to hold onto his shoulders, to have any kind of leverage while he continued to make love to her. While he might have popped off in a minute when they were much, much younger, he had stamina now to last long enough to make her satiated. Who knew that she could feel that much from a shared intimacy with this amazing man she called her husband?

“Yes, right there, feels amazing,” she praised him for every second she could articulate. Her husband thrived on being praised and told how well he was treating her. It took too many rows after they finally pulled their collective thumbs out - and some tears on her part - to realize what he needed to flourish.

“Gonna fuck you hard, Hermione, going to make you walk like a bloody bowtruckle for a week when I’m done with you,” he’d cheek back.

“Yes, please do, yes” each moment he spent driving her spare, with his hands, his manhood, his mouth, anything he could use to afford her pleasure and joy. “It’s not like anyone is going to notice us, right?”

“No one’s going to interrupt. I’ve locked the door, the Floo, and put us under a Fidelius Charm.

Ron kept going, eventually pulling her hips forward and resting her legs on her chest and her feet on his shoulders. Hermione pressed her heels into his collarbone, changing the angle he fucked her. “Yes, right there, keep going,” her praise for him only grew more incoherent, more broken as he nattered on, offering filthy comments in response to her. He understood her best of all. He was the only one who got to see her vulnerable, this candid for him.

A sheen of sweat covered both of them, rattling the cabinets and drawers underneath them. Noises echoed in the kitchen into the parlour along with the occasional groan of wood underneath Hermione’s arse. The slap of wet skin against wet skin echoed along with the growing cacophony into the cottage.

“Hermione,” Ron’s voice rumbled.

“Whenever you are,” she replied.

Ron continued for another dozen strokes, fighting like mad to hold on. He looked down at his wife and saw her tits jiggling on her breasts while one hand had slid down her slick body to where they were joined, pressing her fingertips into the crevice where her bundle of nerves was, rubbing in tight little circles.

“Oh fuck,” he growled before exploding. He pulled her hips flush to his, feeling her clenching around his length.

She groaned like the long-departed ghoul in his childhood attic, imitating a banshee with a bad cold. She shivered, not stopping even after he’d quit thrusting into her welcoming body. He pulled back, gasping for breath and stretching his back. She continued to quiver from all of the sensory overload while he hid the smug grin on his face from making her behave in such a wanton fashion.

Seconds which felt like minutes later, Ron pulled Hermione from the edge of the countertop, lifting her onto his shoulders and carried her to their couch. She scrambled off with him plopping down first followed by her cuddling into his side. She scratched the soft ginger hairs on his chest while he caught his breath.

“We get two weeks like this,” said to the top of his wife’s head. “I never expected to have daily shags ever again, not after that first summer.”

Hermione looked up and smiled before resting her head back on his chest and crossing her knee over his thighs. “I guess we should take advantage of it before everything goes pear-shaped again.”

“Would you say it’s fortunate that we got this earlier than later than everyone else?”

“Honestly? I’d rather get it and get it over with and get back to work helping the rest of our country survive this disaster.”

“Disaster?” Ron rubbed her back, feeling the hairs standing up under his fingertips. “You mean that walking fuckstrumpet of a Prime Minister for the Muggles?”

“If I thought that the populace was manipulated into voting for that sod, I’d open an inquiry. But I don’t trust the Muggles and their discernment of the propaganda that passes for the media now.”

“You’ve never trusted the media, Hermione, not after that bint Skeeter defamed you repeatedly when we were younger.”

“I recall you being shirty too after she went after our kids that one time at the Quidditch World Cup back in 2014. Good thing Ginny gave her what for on Harry’s behalf.”

Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione’s shoulders, pulling her more onto his still heaving chest.

A soft continuous thumping on the window made them turn their heads. Sure enough, it was raining but also an oversized Barn Owl was on the railing, tapping with his beak in the utter darkness.

“Merlin, can’t even enjoy the moment,” Hermione growled before getting up from Ron’s comforting embrace to stroll to the window and open it, bringing in the very wet owl inside. “I must answer this immediately, isn’t it?” she asked the owl who hooted softly. “Bugger, OK. There are rashers on the countertop for you. I’ll send this back straightaway.”

Hermione saw the MoM seal on the outside of the parchment and cracked it with a fingernail, watching the three feet unroll. She scanned the document before her eyes grew as large as tea saucers then read it again.

Ron sat up on the couch, watching his wife standing only in her skin by the window, the fireplace behind her lush arse highlighting it and silently making him drool, yet she had not a care in the world who might see her form, already engrossed in what had been sent to her. “That bad, love?”

Hermione turned her face back to Ron and saw the thunderheads rolling across her face. “That bloody PM didn’t bother to listen to the Muggle doctors and is being admitted to the hospital tonight. The sod has left that other tosser - “

“He’s the bloke that looks like he was used for quaffle target practice, right?”

“That’s the one.” She took a deep breath. “That means I’m now the Shadow Minister, temporarily. The real Shadow Minister is also under quarantine.”

“But so are we, right?”

Hermione’s smile erupted. “Nothing like a bubblehead charm to go into work, which I, unfortunately, must do for an hour early tomorrow morning. That Ruddy idiot wants to talk about the state of the Ministry before going forward at 7 am.”

Ron stood up from the couch, looking fanciable and fit in his skin. Four strides and he was next to her, swallowing her up in an enormous hug. “I guess that means we need to get to bed so you can sleep, right?”

Hermione looked up at Ron, his beard shining like gold in the amber lights of the fire in the locked fireplace. “Eventually, love. I would prefer round two.”

Ron turned, pulling her with him as he walked back to their bedroom. “Round two, huh?”

“I need to work this stress off and you’re the medicine I need tonight.”

#Dragon's fic #hpfic #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Not Ace Safe #Citrus Warning #M Rated #18 rated #While Minister Hermione isn't my fave #the idea stuck with me #I ran with it #yes I used the word cockwomble #Posted late so the 2 minors who follow might not notice #Not like they don't know what adults do behind closed doors #Queue Up for the Dragon

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