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notmyneighbor · 1 month

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A New Neighbor - Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Word Count - 5k

Rating - Explicit

CW - cheating, touching, oral sex

Also available on AO3

taglist - @kaislashes @unicorngirly1 @charli33-b33 @natiii727227

3:57AM

Francis’ body is programmed to wake up early no matter what day of the week it is. He’s done this delivery job for so many years, it’s ingrained in his system. There is no sleeping in, even on the weekends. One of the reasons Nacha sleeps on the couch some nights, or vice versa.

Last night it had been his turn to have the bed to himself. He stretches and rubs his eyes, his energy picking up when he realizes it’s the day he’s promised to pick you up after school. Nacha is off today. He won’t have to worry about anyone watching Anastacha.

The milkman showers and shaves, making sure his skin is extra smooth before splashing on aftershave. Did you like it? He’d have to ask. He doesn’t really know what you prefer.

Well. He was starting to get some idea.

He tries to be quiet getting the coffee pot going, and of course he fails, the ceramic mug nearly tumbling over when he sets it on the kitchen counter too hastily.

“Francis.” Nacha’s reprimanding voice issuing from the living room sounds drowsy.

“Sorry. Go back to sleep. I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Did you change the time on the alarm?” She sounds more alert now.

“Yes.”

“I’m gonna go lie down in bed until it’s time to get Ana ready.”

“Okay.”

His girlfriend barely spares him a glance before padding down the hallway to the master bedroom. The coffee is ready to pour and he lifts the glass carafe from the burner, filling the mug three quarters of the way full, then stirring in cream and sugar, noting they’re running low on both. He removes the pen from his shirt pocket that he uses for the deliveries (marking off addresses, payments, signatures, that sort of thing) and uses it now to add to the growing list of necessary items affixed to the fridge with a magnet. The pair took turns doing the shopping. Sometimes he’d pick up random items they needed on the way home. Sometimes Anastacha liked to come along on a Saturday morning. It really all depended on how the week was progressing.

Francis emerges from the apartment shortly after, pleasantly surprised to find the weather is mild when he steps outdoors. A sign of an early spring, perhaps. He’s got gloves tucked into his jacket pocket, but it seems he might not need either today. By the time he’s delivered to a few houses, he finds himself warming up sufficiently even without the aid of the dairy truck’s heater.

You’re in his thoughts throughout the day, and not all of it is sexual in nature this time.

Surprising what his mind chooses to focus on. That little moment at the end of your last encounter when he’d taught you the special knock. Sharing that secret with you made him feel…something. It’s too early to say what it is yet.

For once he’s grateful for the busy assignment, making the time pass more quickly once he’s loaded up the truck. He’s working extra efficiently this morning, despite the early hour. Normally he’s sluggish and reluctant at the start of the shift, his body protesting in spite of its acknowledgment of the routine. This new nervous energy you imbued him with, though, changes everything. He wants to make sure he’s at your school promptly on your agreed upon time.

The weather is so nice he stops for lunch at a local park. It’s a weekday, so it’s not too crowded. Mainly young children using the playground, accompanied by their mothers. He should bring Ana here soon. Maybe he’ll invite you along, too.

He finishes his route with time to spare, pulling up near the front entrance of the high school you attend. That’s when his palms start to get a little damp, his left foot twitching nervously. The likelihood of running into anyone he knows here is slim, but not impossible. The school isn’t on his route. He doesn’t really have a valid excuse to account for his presence here if anyone asked.

No one does. The minutes slip by. You’re there. Pushing through the glass front doors, squinting against the glare of the sun. He can see your smile even from here. Brighter than that celestial body in the sky. Your cardigan is tied around your waist. You’re carrying some books, clutched against your chest. A casual walk that quickens suddenly, impatient to see him.

“Hi,” you greet him through the open door.

He suddenly realizes the problem with this plan. The truck only has a seat for the driver. It isn’t meant to host passengers.

“Hi. How was school?”

“Good.” You adjust the strap of the bag on your shoulder. “Where do I, um…”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, so. About that. I guess I wasn’t thinking…I can grab one of empty crates from the back and sit on that? Sorry.”

“No problem. I don’t mind.”

He lends you a hand to help you enter the vehicle. He’s used to the high step, but it’s a little more challenging for you. Your hand clings to his tightly, even after you’ve safely made it inside.

“Hi,” you say again, but this is a different kind of greeting. Softer. Your eyelids dip languidly. He wants nothing more than to grab you and kiss you right then, but it’s too public here. Even seen doing this is still risky.

“We should go somewhere less…exposed, you know?”

“Okay.” You watch him move one of the aforementioned crates and drag it near his seat, then unknot and set your cardigan down on top of it before sitting, your bag and books tucked next to your makeshift seat on the floor.

“All set?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go.”

It takes a few minutes to leave the city proper, traveling into the suburbs. The truck is not the smoothest of rides; he’s always forced to make sure the glass bottles are secured properly before he makes his deliveries. It jostles you now, and he lets one hand drop down for you to hold.

“I don’t really know where to go,” he admits once he reaches the outskirts of the densely populated residential area. It’s farm country out here. Lots of open fields. Orchards.

“There’s…there’s a house people go to. Kids at my school talk about it. It’s abandoned. A place to, you know…”

“That doesn’t seem particularly safe nowadays with the doppels running loose. But I suppose horniness overrides caution,” he remarks wryly. “You shouldn’t go anywhere alone, though,” he adds, his smile fading.

“Oh! That reminds me. We didn’t do the secret knock.”

He’d completely forgotten, too. Not that he has any doubts you’re really you.

He eases off the road, parking the truck in the dirt. “Okay. We’ll do it now.”

You stand, stretching gratefully from your awkward position. His fingers tap out the melody on the dashboard that’s in desperate need of dusting, leaving fingerprints behind as he goes. You make your own set beside his. Your fingers are so much smaller and thinner than his. Elegant. It’s no wonder you play piano.

“What would you do if I was a doppelgänger?” You pull his cap off and toss it onto the shelf above the steering wheel.

“Let you eat me and die happy.”

“Francis!”

He snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you closer. Your fingers card through his thick chocolate colored tresses. He buries his face against your shirt, inhaling your fragrance. You remain like that for a few minutes, just holding each other. It’s so quiet out here. He’s used to the noises of the city, the sounds of the traffic and people. Even at night it’s still busy. It never really slumbers.

But here it’s different. Peaceful. He likes the feel of your fingers combing through his hair. Soothing, being pressed against you like this. Warm. The sun pours through the windows, bathing skin in golden light. Your body is so soft. This is another moment he knows he’s going to savor again later in his memories.

Eventually he eases back, his eyes meeting yours. “Want to come for a walk?”

You nod. He helps you down from the truck. Your hand slips into his. The dead weeds from the previous season aren’t difficult to navigate. It’s easy to traverse the field, leaving the truck and the road and the entire world behind.

“My dad said you’re engaged,” you murmur, disrupting the comfortable silence. Francis halts and you stop beside him. “But Nacha doesn’t wear a ring.”

“We’re not really engaged,” he says. He sighs heavily. “We should probably talk about my situation. You deserve to know the truth.”

“Okay.”

“Sit with me.”

He eases down into what looks like a softer, more cushioned patch of ground, clustered with wild grass and you settle beside him, tucking your skirt beneath you.

“When I was younger,” he begins, then sighs again. “I’m just going to tell you straight. You’re an adult. I mean. Basically.” He pulls at one of the longer blades of grass and begins wrapping it and unwrapping it around his index finger. “We made a mistake. We just wanted to fool around, have some fun. And we weren’t careful. And Nacha got pregnant. It wasn’t planned. We weren’t even dating, really. I know it takes two and all that. We both had an equal share of blame. I couldn’t just let her bear the burden while I got off Scott free. So we decided to throw our lots in together, see if we couldn’t make something come of it anyway. We told people we were going to get married to cover up for what really happened.”

He drops the piece of grass. “Nothing really came of it. We have Ana, and of course we both love her. But we weren’t ready for any of this. We’re basically roommates. Two people occupying the same space linked by this one little person. We make each other crazy, sometimes. We’re so different. I’m glad she’s getting out of the house, now. She deserves to be happy.”

“You deserve to be happy, too,” you comment gently, your first words since his own had poured forth.

“I’ve kept all this bottled up inside me for so long. We keep to ourselves. We don’t really have friends. All I do is work. I feel trapped. Suffocated. I want…I want something more.” It’s a relief to finally give voice to the thoughts and feelings that have been plaguing him. It’s easy to talk to you. There’s no harsh judgment in your gaze. All he feels radiating from that look is understanding.

“I’ve been my dad’s whole world for as long as I can remember. He’s always been good to me. Maybe too protective, sometimes. But I want him to be happy, too. I wish he’d find someone.” You reach for the milkman’s hand. “Maybe sometimes it’s good to take risks. To be reckless. Are you really living if you spend your entire existence trapped in some bubble?”

He covers your hand with his other one, clutching yours between them. “But you’re safer that way. You don’t want to make the same mistake I did and rush things. You’re young, you have such a bright future ahead of you. Enjoy your life. Your dad said you’re a great student. Do something with that. Go to college. Have a career. The other stuff can wait for later.” It sounds like he’s pushing you away. Maybe part of him is. The decent part that’s still there, buried beneath the lust, fresh spring flowers poking through the soil, carefully emerging.

You study his face for a few moments. “We’re both trapped, just in different ways. I think you’re a good person, Francis Mosses, that got stuck in a very unfortunate situation.”

“Would a good person do this?” He leans over to capture your lips. Instant heat. The carnal desires are overriding morals again.

“Yes,” you whisper, pulling your hand free from the trap he’s created between his, now using it to cradle his cheek.

“I thought about you all day,” he admits. “I can’t stop, no matter how hard I try. Everything reminds me of you. I’ve never experienced anything like this before. This longing, this ache…” Francis kisses you again, leaning now with his whole body, pushing you down beneath him. “You should be somewhere better than this. I don’t know where to bring you, where it’s safe…”

“I don’t care. This is fine. It’s good…” Your head lifts to capture his lips. He doesn’t know why he’s stalling all of a sudden. There’s no one around for miles. He wants you. You’re willing. Why had his conscience chosen now, of all times, to interfere?

“I don’t want to ruin someone else’s life. You deserve better.”

“You’re what I want. Touch me, Francis. I want to feel your hands on me.”

His cock lurches at your words, struggling against its confinement, and the hesitation shatters. He balances his weight on his knees and one forearm, the free one lifting to begin undoing the buttons of your blouse. Plain cotton brassiere today, but he’s not disappointed. He bends to kiss you between your breasts, peppering your flesh with tiny little pecks. He manages to unfasten the hooks on the back of the lingerie covering your bosom on the first try, his lips quickly moving to suck one nipple into his mouth.

A hum of pleasure escapes you. His tongue rolls around the hardening rosy tissue until it resembles a pencil eraser. He pulls lightly with his teeth and repeats the process for its partner. The fantasy of seeing you covered in milk presents itself against. Spilling naturally or poured over. Either way he’d sup gladly.

His kisses trail down your abdomen, his fingers already fumbling for the hem of your skirt. Another serviceable piece of underwear barring him from what he desires, quickly tugged down while he’s kneeling beside you. There will be dirt and grass stains on his uniform that he’ll have to explain later. For now, he doesn’t care. His goal is in sight. That dewy pink flesh he’s been craving a taste of. Your legs are still held fairly close together, residual shyness keeping them that way until he parts them. He licks the inside of one thigh and you whimper.

Then his face is between your legs, his body burrowing against the ground to find a comfortable position as he takes his first taste of your pussy.

Francis moans. Everything he’d expected and yet somehow not. Even better. Had he thought the taste of your mouth was ambrosia? This, this went beyond heavenly. He flicks his tongue across your bud and you shiver. He wants you to cum in his mouth. He’s going to make you.

He keeps one hand at the top of your mound, pulling that swelling bundle taut against the hood and licking it over and over, short, rapid strokes alternating with slower caresses. He kisses your thighs when he feels you shaking too much, getting too close, too soon. He doesn’t want you to find release just yet. It’s the best meal he’s ever had and he doesn’t want it to end.

His mouth clamps on that pretty pink pussy and you moan again, your fingers burying themselves in his hair. He spends some time lapping at the leaking hole he can’t wait to penetrate, sucking your lips, gathering as much of your taste as he can. Your clit has swelled even further, begging for attention he’s only too happy to give it. He doesn’t hold back now, relentlessly licking and sucking until you’re writhing beneath him, grinding against his face, your fingers pulling his hair painfully, straining the roots buried in his scalp as you explode in a noisy, shuddering wet mess.

Francis recognizes the moment when it shifts from being too little to perfect to too much, your body switching into hypersensitivity and he eases his mouth from you. He can feel your juices coating his lips and chin as he changes positions, climbing and dropping down next to you.

Your head lolls to the side to regard him, still in that post orgasmic bliss phase, no doubt. After you recover your body turns until it presses against the milkman, tucked against his side, his arm coming around to hug you. Your face lifts to find his and you kiss him. “Is that what I taste like?”

“You’re delicious. You’ve never tried to taste it?” You shake your head. “Do you ever touch yourself?”

“Sometimes. Not often. I don’t try unless I’m home alone.”

“When was the last time you did?”

“Yesterday.”

“Did you think about us?”

“Yes.”

He hums a little moan at this admission of depravity as your mouth returns to his. You reach for the front of his pants now, where his erection is pressing painfully, begging for escape, lightly massaging the tented fabric where it feels as if all of his blood is pooling, every nerve ending extra sensitive and pleading for more direct contact. He assists you in opening the fly, letting you have the honor of dragging his turgid member free. He savors the little gasp you make, as if you’ve forgotten how large he is, how truly hard you make him.

“Show me how to do it.”

The older man loves the way you murmur this request, your voice sultry and sandpaper rough from lust. He loves that you’re inexperienced, that you haven’t been sullied by some fumbling teenage boy. He guides your hand towards the base, curling your fingers around his phallus. He squeezes where he wants you to apply more pressure, his touch lightening where he needs less. Guiding those delicate digits over the tip, sliding over the dewy opening, caressing the sensitive spot underneath where the curves meet, that silky soft patch of skin. No touch you could give him would ever feel wrong, but he enjoys showing you nonetheless, your hands working together to bring him pleasure until he lets you take the reins.

“Is it good?”

“It’s perfect. You’re perfect.” He’s admiring the view of your still unbuttoned blouse, the way the sun touches the curves, sets the highlights of your hair aflame. An angel, you’re absolutely heaven sent, that delicate hand working so beautifully over his cock, making his hips quiver and jerk every time you slide through the slick leaking over the head. “You’re going to make me cum, baby girl.” He cups one of your breasts, flicking his thumb over the nipple, his teeth catching his bottom lip as he groans and spills seed over your pumping hand. You don’t miss a beat, stroking through his entire orgasm, until his senses are overloaded and he grabs your wrist to halt you.

You rest beside him again, exchanging soft kisses. His eyes fall on his wristwatch and he sighs regretfully. He should be getting back. He needed to get you home. He still has to account for the condition of his clothes. A few unexpected deliveries and a delayed yearbook committee meeting are excuses for tardiness that can only be stretched so far.

You’re solemn after he tells you this, quiet on the walk back across the field. Reality just setting in. This was all he could offer you. Stolen moments blanketed by lies and deception.

Francis backs you up against the truck and kisses you roughly. He’s not happy about the circumstances either. His hands muss the hair you’d smoothed out moments before.

“I don’t want to share you.”

His mouth pulls from yours, his eyes meeting yours. “You’re not sharing me, angel. I’m yours.”

“I don’t want her touching you.”

He cups your face between his hands. “It’s not like that between us anymore. You are all I want.” He’s not about to admit what happened after you’d come over for dinner that night. He’d been thinking of you the entire time anyway. That basically cancelled it out, right? “We don’t even sleep in the same room most of the time.”

You nod. Your fingers knot in his shirt. He presses his lips against your forehead before helping you back into the truck. He kisses you again before starting the engine, and again before he shifts gears. If the doorman thinks anything of the two of you entering the building at the same time, he doesn’t reveal it. The DDD guard still gives Francis that same distrustful look even though he’d remembered to present all of his documents this time. The milkman doesn’t bother to offer a smile.

He waits for you by the elevator, grateful no one else is around. The last kiss he steals is inside the carriage. He watches you exit onto the second floor and it’s all he can do not to chase after you.

Nacha doesn’t comment much when he offers his excuses, the latest fabrication he’s concocted one about stopping to change a tire, explaining the state of his clothes. He showers and you’re in his thoughts again and he wants you, the sudden impulse making him feel he’s on fire all over again.

His girlfriend watches him pick through dinner that evening, the fork securing and releasing a morsel of food repeatedly as he moves it around the plate aimlessly. Ana has already finished hers, playing some imaginary game with a pair of dolls in the living room while her mother carries the empty plates to the sink, glancing at Francis.

“Is something wrong with the food?”

“Hmmm? Oh, no. It’s fine. I guess I’m not hungry tonight.” His blurry gaze focuses on the gray and green orbs peering at him, that unusual mixture of two different colored irises suddenly making him feel like he’s been caught already.

“I’ve never seen you turn down a meal before.” It’s true. He normally consumed things as if he was a condemned man on death row savoring his last meal.

“It was a long day. The schedule is really tiring.”

“This was supposed to be your short day.”

“I know, but then they added more deliveries, and the tire change didn’t help things any.” He pauses. There’s another excuse he’s been thinking of, another reason to be away from home more. “I was thinking of joining Angus and the guys at the bowling alley.” Angus was one of their neighbors, a bachelor salesman. Several of the men in the building belonged to the local league. He wasn’t about to join up, but he supposes he could put in an appearance every now and again, leaving the rest of the time for dalliances with you.

“You hate socializing. And since when do you like bowling?” She folds her arms under her breasts.

He shrugs. “I just think it would be good to get out of the house sometimes for something other than work.”

“I agree with you about that. You definitely need something. You’ve been very distracted lately.”

“Sorry.”

“Well, just make sure it all coordinates with the babysitter’s schedule. Speaking of which, we’re due to pay her. It’s the end of the week. I’ll go run it downstairs.”

“I’ll do it,” he says hastily, the chair dragging across the linoleum harshly as he rises to his feet. She was giving him a reason to see you again.

“Are you sure? You look dead on your feet. I don’t mind, I’ve been home all day.”

“Nah, it’s fine. Maybe I’ll ask the professor if he wants to come along to the alley one of these nights.”

“You’re really getting along well, aren’t you?”

“He’s a good guy.” Unlike himself. Seducing his daughter.

“We can have them over for dinner again, if you want. Ana is so enamored with the sitter.”

“Yeah, she’s uh…she’s great.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I’m going to head over now. Back in a bit. Just um, just put this…”

“I’ll save it for later.” She accepts the plate he hands her.

The milkman pauses in the living room to explain where he’s going and his daughter’s face brightens. “Can I come too?”

“Uh, no, baby. Not this time. I’m just dropping off her payment.”

“But I wanna see what her house is like,” the child replies, pouting.

“Another time, I promise. Gotta talk to her dad. Boring stuff. You stay here and watch over mom until I get back.”

“Okaaay.” She draws out the middle vowel sound, still not happy but accepting his terms.

“We’ll play some dolls when I get back, if you want.” Ana loved it when he did the voices, the imitation higher pitched feminine tones often sending her into fits of giggles.

“Promise?” She looks hopeful again.

“Yes, I promise.”

***

Francis always feels guilty going over someone’s house uninvited.

He knows he has a valid reason for the unexpected visit, but the principle remains the same. He knocks and waits, hearing muffled voices within, and then you answer the door.

“Francis,” you murmur softly. “What are you…”

“I brought your payment. And I was going to talk to your dad real quick.”

You pull the door open wider, granting him admittance. The college instructor is sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by books and papers. “Francis, come in! Sorry for the mess. I miss having an office at home,” he says ruefully. “But, the trade off of a safer living environment is worth it. Right, honey?”

You nod, your gaze alternating between the two men.

The milkman clears his throat. “I don’t mean to bother you. I won’t be staying long. I just wanted to drop payment off for your daughter, and to ask if you’d be interested in joining some of the men in the building at the bowling alley one of these nights. I’m not particularly competitive, but I think it would be good to get out of the house.” He’s looking at you through most of the discourse, hoping you realize why he’s really making this offer.

Your father scratches his chin thoughtfully. “Bowling, huh? It’s been years for me. But you know what? I just might take you up on that one of these nights.”

“Nacha also wanted me to invite you over for dinner again.”

“It’s our turn to host, I think. That sounds like a solid idea as well.”

“Great, we can iron out the details later.” He’s got cash in his hand, the bills still curled tightly into his palm. His last excuse for being here.

“I um…I think I left one of my notebooks at Francis’ apartment,” you say quickly as he presses the money into your hand, his fingers dragging against yours.

“Well, you can get it later, surely? It’s the weekend. I’m sure Francis would like to rest now. I don’t know how you delivery drivers do it, being up so early.”

“You get used to it. I don’t mind,” he adds. “I’ll walk her there and back again.”

“That’s kind of you. I appreciate it.”

“Have a good rest of your evening.”

You exit the apartment, following him past the elevator and into the nearby stairwell.

The door shuts with a heavy clang and he pauses just long enough to make certain there are no footsteps on the stairs before he shoves you against the wall, planting furious kisses all over your face.

“Do you know why I asked your father…”

“Yes. But you’ll have to actually go sometimes, just to…”

“I know.” His teeth nip your bottom lip. “I want you.”

“Francis…”

“I need you,” he says, the words slightly muffled as his lips touch the arch of your throat. “When can I see you again? I can’t wait until Monday. I can’t.”

“I have piano lessons tomorrow.”

“I’ll pick you up from there. Turn around.”

You obey, facing the wall. He bends and grabs the hem of your skirt, then reaches for your panties, dragging them over one cheek of your buttocks. “Come to the park with me and Ana Sunday.” He shoves your hair to one side, his tongue tracing the curve of your ear.

“Okay.”

“You make me crazy.” It has only been hours since he’s been intimate with you and already he’s feeling a desperate urge as he ruts against that exposed globe of flesh, his harsh breathing echoing in the stairwell. Your palm slaps out against the wall and he covers it with his own. “Touch yourself and think about me tonight.” His teeth sink into your shoulder through the fabric of your blouse.

Footsteps and voices below. Francis hurriedly fixes your clothing, stepping back from you. He escorts you back to your door as promised, then it dawns on him that you’d never actually searched for your missing notebook.

“Did you really forget your notebook at my place?”

“No, it was just an excuse to get out.”

“What are you going to tell your father when you show up empty handed?”

“I’ll say I must have left in my locker at school by mistake.“

“I’m making you lie so much already.” A tinge of remorse and regret until he tastes your lips again. Risky, so risky, doing this in front of your apartment. Out in the open, where anyone could see.

“What choice do we have?”

He considers. He’s no stranger to it. He’s been lying for years, he and Nacha, pretending they were a couple, engaged, in love. And now he has to lie to have you. He can’t give you up. He just can’t.

“None. Tell me the address I’m meeting you at tomorrow. And the time to be there.”

You do so, then frown. “What if you can’t get away?”

“I’ll be there,” he says again, firmly. “No matter what. You forgot to do the secret knock again,” he murmurs, his fingers drumming lightly on your cheek. You repeat the gesture on his. “Goodnight. Don’t forget what I said earlier.”

One more brief kiss and then he forces himself to return to the stairwell.

He needs the extra time to calm down.

#francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman x you #francis mosses #milkman #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #that’s not my neighbor #tnmn smut #tnmn fanfic #tnmn francis mosses #divider @cafekitsune

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lavendermaelk · 2 years

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Carnal Domesticity

Henry Winter x Fem!Reader, The Secret History

!!!MDNI!!! Word Count: 3k Content Warnings: Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V Sex, Chair Sex, Drinking, Smoking, Shotgunning (smoking), OOC-ish Henry, Dom-ish!Henry, Reader is a cis woman Author's Note: The ending kinda sucks, ngl.

It was a cool October morning, the sun peeking out from behind the clouds now and then to shine into Julian’s office where the seven of his students sat while the ancient Greek professor was going on about a passage in the readings that were assigned for the night before. The kettle was starting to whistle in the background and Julian paused himself to get the kettle and teacups for everyone as well as a carton of cream and a bowl of sugar should the students desire some. [Y/N] finished the last bullet point on her notes before setting down her pen and reaching up to stretch some.

She was enjoying the brief moment of rest before she felt a gentle nudge as the other students slowly stood to start grabbing their tea. Henry had gently bumped her with his elbow, a hint of a smile on his normally stationary lips. [Y/N] gave a little nod and got up, moving to get her own tea as the spectacled man followed behind her. Once everyone fixed their tea and sat back down, Julian continued on, taking up the rest of the hour to preach about Greek prose and how one could utilize it to convey certain things or something of the sort.

When the lecture came to a close, the seven students thanked Julian for the lesson and tea, slowly filing out of his office and out to the breezy, open pathways. [Y/N] adjusted the bag on her shoulder and buttoned up her coat a little more to fight off the chill, bringing her shoulders to her ears in hopes that her lapels would block the wind from nipping at her neck. She felt a soft warmth wrap around her, the thick fabric of Henry’s scarf concealing her neck and part of her face, enticing a soft chuckle from her and a quiet ‘thank you’ as the group started to migrate to [Y/N]’s apartment for lunch.

Francis and Richard walked ahead, both of them making light talk while the twins trailed behind them, lightly bickering about God knows what this time, and Bunny hung back with [Y/N] and Henry. The blond walked on the other side of Henry, chattering his ear off while the brunette gave him short answers and hums of acknowledgement, silently hoping that he would run out of things to talk about but that was never a common occurrence with Edmund.

Lunch had gone rather well, [Y/N] had gone shopping the afternoon before knowing she had to feed six other people, five of which were grown men. She had made a simple roast that she left in the oven during class and some veg to go along with it. As long as everyone was satisfied, she was happy with herself.

Everyone was full and grateful, the twins and Francis deciding to set up shop and start tackling their Greek while Richard bid his goodbyes and hurried off to his French class. Henry was over by the window, pulling a cigarette from the box he’d kept in his pocket and holding it between his lips to light. Bunny had to head off, something about meeting Marion for an early dinner despite having just eaten. [Y/N] smiled at the sight of her friends before sauntering over to Henry, letting him exhale the cloud of smoke before gently plucking the cigarette from between his lips and taking a drag herself. “Do you want a drink?” she asked, taking another hit before handing it back to him.

“Sure,” Henry nodded.

“Can I have one too?” Charles chirped from the coffee table, perking up a bit as he heard the word ‘drink’.

“Yeah,” [Y/N] chuckled softly before going to the kitchen to pour them each an inch of scotch. She took the glasses to the living room and handed them out before going back to lingering by Henry’s side and sipping on her own glass and leaning her head on his arm.

It didn’t take very long for the three at the coffee table to finish up, slowly starting to pack up and leave, waving their goodbyes. [Y/N] saw them out the door, giving the boys pats on the back and Camilla a friendly kiss on the cheek, waving one last time before closing and locking the door behind herself before turning to look at Henry. He had moved to sit in the armchair, lighting another cigarette as he set his nearly empty glass of scotch on the coffee table. She smiled softly at him, glancing at the clock to see it read ten past four as she moved to make herself comfortable in his lap, straddling his thighs and taking the cigarette from him once more.

“Did you enjoy lunch?” She asked, brushing his hair away from his forehead while his spare hand settled on the small of her back.

“Of course I did. Cleaned my plate and all.'' He smiled softly, an expression that was near exclusive for her. His large hand gave her back a gentle rub and he took the cigarette back to take another drag. “C’mere” he mumbled, gently taking her by the chin and bringing their lips together. He let out a sigh as she started to kiss him slowly, his smoke filling her mouth which she hungrily inhaled. She could taste the bitter whiskey and tobacco on his lips but it was the sweetness of his kiss that made her moan into his lips. Every kiss they shared, he managed to taste like he’d just swallowed a sugar cube. It was addicting, more than that, it made her core rumble with need.

Henry chuckled softly at her soft noises, setting the cigarette down in an ashtray and bringing his hand to her hip so he could pull her close. He let out a soft groan as she pressed herself against him and wrapped her arms around his neck, his large, pale hands giving her flesh a gentle squeeze. Another whine left her lips as he felt around her body, cupping her curves and smoothing over her wool and cotton clad skin. She pulled away slightly, a thin string of saliva connecting their swollen lips as their heated breath mingled before she dipped her head and she started to kiss at his clean shaven jaw. He still smelled of aftershave and his cologne with a hint of his natural scent from wearing so many layers and moving around for the better half of the day. One of her hands slid up some more to run her fingers through his dark hair, gently tugging at it as her spare hand slid down his chest and back up under the sweater he had worn on top of his white button up.

Henry gave a soft chuckle at her eagerness, his hands gripping at her thighs as his chest rumbled with his voice. His hands wandered just as hers did, trailing the curve of her behind before finding their home on her waist, giving her a teasing squeeze before slowly pulling her jumper from its neatly tucked place beneath the long skirt that was belted in place.

“This one’s mine, isn’t it?” he asked softly, his vocal chords humming underneath the gentle yet hungry touch of her lips. She gave a little hum in affirmation and he smirked a little, starting to pull the knit sweater up off of her torso, forcing her lips to detach from his skin for one short yet agonizing moment. As Henry put the sweater over the arm of the leather chair, [Y/N] undid the top few buttons, revealing the necklace he’d gifted her long ago sitting beautifully against her skin. It was a simple chain, one matching the link that was around his right wrist that he’d gotten for the first birthday she’d spent at Hampden.

The pulsing heat in Henry’s trousers had started to bother him with [Y/N] sitting right on it, teasingly pressing herself down on him, her own hands lifting the sweater up and running across his chest. He let her remove the knitted wool and set it aside before his hands found themselves undoing the rest of the buttons on her shirt and peeling it off of her.

She began to do the same for him, undoing his buttons to reveal his toned chest and abdomen. One would expect someone who spends most of their time reading and studying the classics and dead languages not to be as fit as he was but it seemed that he never dropped the regimen he’d put in place when he was injured in high school. Her fingertips brushed against his pale skin, his muscles twitching slightly as her touch left a burning sensation in its wake as she pushed the cotton weave off of his shoulders.

Henry huffed softly, leaning up a little to let the fabric fall off of his frame. Her hands dragged down his chest before they slowly tugged the dress shirt out from his pants and started to work on his belt. She made quick work of the leather strap, moving on to his button and zipper.

“Needy today, are we?” Henry teased, letting her do as she pleased. [Y/N] rolled her eyes at him playfully as she got up only to kneel between his legs, tugging at the loose waist of his trousers.

“I always need you~” she muttered, pressing a kiss to his knee as he let her have what she wanted. He pushed down the fabric that had been hugging his hips all day, his growing length revealing itself to her with a throbbing excitement. [Y/N] licked her lips hungrily as her eyes trailed along the shaft, focusing on his dripping tip before locking eyes with the man who was staring down at her with a lusty amusement.

She gingerly reached for it, her hand wrapping around his thickness and giving it a slow stroke which pulled a low groan from him. [Y/N] looked up at him once more before closing in, wrapping her glossy lips around the head and letting his taste coat her tongue. A soft moan came from her as she started to suck, her hand still slowly stroking him up and down.

Henry’s hand came down, brushing her hair out of her face and holding it back so he could watch her work. His pale cheeks started to take on a crimson hue as [Y/N] continued to pleasure him. He never pushed her down and did his best not to buck up into her mouth, simply holding her hair out of the way. He was enamored with how she could bob her head and take more of him so effortlessly, how her moans sounded around him and how her sweet noises made the pit of his belly tighten with need.

[Y/N] kept going, eager to make him finish as Henry continued to let out soft groans and huffs before the nearsighted man guided her head back up and he doubled over to pull her into a needy kiss. His hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs caressing the curve of her cheekbones as his fingertips nearly got lost in the roots of her hair. He kept her there, tasting himself on her sweet sweet lips for a moment too long before letting her go and standing up.

“Take it all off. Let me see you,” Henry ordered her, standing from the chair. His white shirt hung on his elbows as he reached down to stroke his aching cock, watching as [Y/N] stripped for him. She pulled the button up off of her arms and set it aside before unbuckling her belt and letting the long tweed skirt fall to the floor. Next were her tights, her hands pushing down the thin nylon as she shimmied out of them and then moved to take off her underwear. She unhooked her bra and let her panties fall to the floor as well before picking them up and setting them on the couch adjacent to the plush armchair. “Get on the chair. Legs up.”

She did as was told, sitting on the edge of the seat and leaning back to pull her legs up and onto the upholstered arms. Henry moved to kneel in front of her, mimicking her position from before as his hands ran across the undersides of her thighs and his lips lowered to press kisses around her dripping slit. He continued to tease her, kissing and nipping just around her needy cunt to hear her whine and watch her squirm.

“Henry, please” [Y/N] whimpered as her hand moved down to grip onto his dark hair. He let out a soft grunt as her tight grip tugged at his hair, almost trying to direct his lips onto her aching clit. A deep chuckle left him and he pulled his wire rimmed glasses off his face, setting them to the side before brushing his lips against her swollen bud, just barely giving her what she needed from him. Another whine came from her as she felt his touch ghost over her skin before he succumbed to her wordless begging and placed a kiss to her clit. It drew a shaky mewl from her lips and he continued. He dipped his head further down to drag his tongue along her leaking slit, gathering her juices on his tongue before he wrapped his lips around her clit. She uttered curses as he professed his love against her cunt, his tongue circling her bud as he gently sucked on it. His hands kept roaming the bottoms of her thighs as she started to writhe underneath him.

One hand joined his mouth, pulling her folds apart before he moved down to drink her drippings like it was ambrosia and he craved immortality. Henry pushed his tongue into her, his grip on her thigh tightening slightly as his thumb started to circle her clit. His eyes fluttered closed as she twitched and tightened around his tongue, the pad of his thumb pressed down and continued its circular rubbing as he professed his love for her, spelling out each word against her tight walls. He continued on, eager to hear more of her sweet noises while she squirmed in his hold.

Henry slowly pulled away, her sweet noises and the aching of his manhood starting to become too much for him. His cock twitched as he straightened up, watching as her chest rose and fell with each staggered breath. What a sight. Henry leaned down, his shaft fitting against her folds as he pressed their hips together, and he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips.

“You’re so beautiful, especially like this.” Henry sighed softly, pushing his hair back as he started to rock his hips against hers, his length collecting her wetness and brushed against her clit.

“Henry, please” [Y/N] sighed, her core aching to be filled by him. She reached out, her hands landing on his forearms as his own settled beneath the crook of her knees. He pushed them as far as they would go before pulling back and letting his tip settle at her entrance. He started to press in, groaning softly as her walls hugged him tight with no intention of letting go. He relished in the welcoming warmth of her body and kept his advances slow. He pushed in and out a few times as he eased his cock into her, her grip on his arms tightening each time he descended further into her core. Henry took his time working himself in until their hips met, soft moans tumbling out of both their lips.

[Y/N] ‘s back arched up off the seat slightly as he started to thrust agonizingly slowly, her toes curling as he hit the deepest parts of her with such ease.

“Love, please!” she begged, tightening her grip on his arms as she looked up at him through her lashes. “Harder, faster, please Henry!”

He appeased her neediness, starting to drive his hips a bit faster as he snapped into her with more force. He leaned forward more, his head pressed against the back of the chair as he watched her gasp and whine at the change of pace. Her hand slid down his arm and started to rub at her clit as he continued to thrust into her, soft huffs and grunts coming from him.

“Fuck. You take me so well, darling.” he praised between grunts. He continued to thrust, his hand moving hers out of the way so he could rub her clit and press down with each thrust. [Y/N] gasped and whined as he did so, the pit of her stomach tightening as she felt him nudge her closer to the edge with each slap of his hips against hers. His thrusting had roughened some more, now faster as he did his best to keep up the steady cadence.

[Y/N] let out another whine as her walls tightened around him again, gripping at him wherever she could.

“T-There! Just like that, Henry!” she gasped as he rolled his hips into her harshly. “I’m so close, don’t stop!”

The broad man did as he was told, keeping the pace and hitting her deep within her core. It only took a few more strokes with his thumb rubbing over her clit to send her over the edge. It was as if he had reached in and pulled the cry of pleasure from the pit of her belly as her back arched up. She shook underneath him, her walls clamping down on his length and rapidly contracted, almost trying to milk him dry as he stayed buried deep inside her. Henry let out a grunt, huffing and moaning softly as his own orgasm washed over him, his length twitching and pulsing in time with her body. He nearly couldn’t hold himself up anymore, slowly pressing his torso down onto hers and burying his face into her hair as he held her close.

Henry turned his head, starting to kiss at the spot underneath her ear as [Y/N] laid there, leaning into his touch while they both came down from their highs. It took Henry a moment but he lifted his head to look at her dazed expression

“My beautiful beautiful [Y/N]” he mumbled before pressing a light kiss to her lips. He held her close for a while longer, not wanting to pull away from her warmth just yet.

"Do that to me more often~" [Y/N] sighed out with a soft giggle, pulling another grin from Henry's lips.

"Yes ma'am~"

#lavender writes~🖋️#henry winter #henry winter x reader #the secret history #donna tartt #richard papen #bunny corcoran #francis abernathy #camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #the secret history x reader #afab reader #dark academia #minors dni #minors dont look #smut #the secret history smut #henry winter smut

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inafieldofdaisies · 1 year

Text

Last Line (accept it would never be just one line) Tag | Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton and @trench-rot <3

I could be silly and just post one sentence, make you all wonder what even is going on or... go with the thing below. Listen, what started as a small introduction for Mercedes turned into a whole chapter just for these two and I'm like: it is what it is, at least I'm not allowing everyone full reign.

"Know how to start a fire?", [Jacob] chirped from the living room, still lounging back on the couch. "No." Yes. "Want me to teach you?", his cordial tone wasn't something she was used to. "Why are you acting all nice to me out of a sudden?" "What would you rather I do then, Mercedes? Figured the night would pass by easier that way.", she could feel his stare on her as she kept her back to him, opening and closing cupboards until she found a glass to pour herself some water into. "So, do you want me to teach you?" She moved onto the fridge next, finding it almost empty as expected, "Nothing edible in the fridge, Jacob. If you don't want ketchup for dinner, that is." "Check the pantry, most folks around here are preppers one way or another.", he explained, coming from behind her and opening the door to the small pantry himself before she even had a chance to, "Here." He pulled out a couple of cans, leaving them on the counter. "And if they had nothing stashed away, what was the plan then?" He raised an eyebrow, "Catch us some dinner." "I'm a vegetarian." It was another lie, but she had no desire to watch him play caveman, not if she was to keep her appetite after the things she had witnessed at St. Francis. "Are you now?" "You have a problem with that, too?" Jacob shrugged, "It's nature. We all have a spot on the food chain." "Whatever you say." "You don't agree?" Mercedes waved a hand in his direction, "I just have no energy for all this." When he went to open one of the cans, she moved over to where he was standing and grabbed it before saying, "Are you not even going to wash up first?" He looked down as if realizing for the first time the actual state of his hands. "Sorry.", he muttered and moved to the sink. The quiet apology took her by surprise, but she didn't let that show when she asked, "You hadn't even realized your hands were bloody?" "When you do this everyday, it becomes a habit, a part of you.", he uttered out over the running water, "We all have a role to play." "What's that supposed to mean, Jacob?", she certainly didn't like his clipped tone. He turned, drying his hands with another dark stare pointed her way, "I cull the herd. You play dress-up as my sister's double." "I'm doing no such thing." "No?", he smirked, "You have no idea about my brother's plan for you, do you?" She had her suspicions, but the fact he was close to voicing his and had such a reaction piqued her interest. "What are you talking about?", she blinked in confusion, letting worry slip into the question. He shook his head, deciding against saying anything else as he opened the can and dumped the contents into a pan she had pulled out, "Doesn't matter. We all have our roles, sweetheart, it just takes time to realize what they are. You too would, eventually."

Tagging @poisonedtruth @direwombat @madparadoxum @nightbloodbix @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @g0dspeeed @detectivelokis @aceghosts @euryalex @adelaidedrubman @thesingularityseries @cassietrn @vampireninjabunnies-blog @theelderhazelnut @clonesupport @voidika @schoute @v0idbuggy and anyone else that would like to share a little something. <3

#Mercedes really be lying anytime he asks something; be with words or through feigning a reaction :D #can y'all tell how unhappy he is with the idea she might be the next Faith if God forbid Rachel fails #the snippet is still a rough draft because brain is mush right now #tagged <3 #last line tag #last line wip #oc: mercedes “mercy” sibley #wip snippet #wip stuff #ocs #wip: in hope of tomorrow #fc5 ocs #ship dynamics #character dialogue #original characters #jacob seed x oc #oc character #far cry 5 oc

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morgenlich · 10 months

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤

also gonna tag @council-of-beetroot since she tagged me also lol

going 2 be sharing the ao3 summary + first few paragraphs of each since i've seen ppl doing a few different things with this meme lol

in really no particular order:

1) last light (gen fic w multiple ships, rated E)

just some desperate people trying to survive with (and sometimes in spite of) each other.

The lightbulb overhead flickered almost imperceptibly, emitting a faint hum just at the edge of Tolys’ hearing. Sighing softly to himself, he drummed his fingertips on the windowsill anxiously, ignoring the cup of now-cold tea beside him as he tried to focus on the fat snowflakes tumbling lazily from the sky to the streets below, where they melted almost instantly. The little village slumbered on, cradled to the east by a forest so dark and dense even Tolys was wary of it; its shadow loomed in the gloaming, and he wondered, not for the first time, what creatures might be prowling there. Darkness fell swiftly, the handful of streetlamps doing little against it. There was little threat of an air raid so far east, though there was still an uneasy feeling in Tolys’ stomach. Even so early in December, few people wanted to deal with the cold; those who braved it shuffled quickly toward wherever their business was and otherwise left the streets to the night. Tolys imagined most of the residents would be readying for dinner then, preparing to settle in for the evening…. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked. A woman held her child’s hand as they crossed the street. On the corner, a couple of officers stood, lighting their cigarettes. You’d almost be forgiven for forgetting there was a war on, were it not for the tanks lurking in the shadows.

2) like they do in babylon (rusliet, rated E)

for the past several nights, russia has been calling lithuania to his study to talk and drink with him, and lithuania doesn't know why--until russia kisses him.

This is a bad idea, Tolys thought, as though that hadn’t been the appeal of it an hour ago. “Would you like some more wine?” Russia asked as he refilled his own glass. “I—please. Yes.” He bit his lip and held out his still half-full glass, willing his hand to be steady while Russia topped him off. He couldn’t bring himself to sip at it, though it was a vintage certainly deserving of that treatment; he wished only to calm his nerves, he was numb to any sensation but the buzz of anxiety running through his body, and if Russia thought anything of the gulp he managed to swallow, he gave no indication of it. Russia was sitting sideways on the sofa, one foot tucked under his leg, absentmindedly swirling his wineglass as he watched Tolys. His violet eyes were full of some emotion that Tolys couldn’t—or perhaps, simply didn’t want to—name. The deep yellow silk of the cushions glistened faintly, catching the light of the dying fire before them. Tolys focused on the dancing flames and took another drink of wine.

3) plein air (frapol, rated T)

[summary is just part of the same excerpt i'm using here]

Yawning, Feliks rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand and reaching for a grape with the other. Francis, his billowy white shirt hanging off his shoulder, gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “More wine?” he asked. Feliks shook his head; Francis shrugged before pouring himself another glass, and the two lapsed back into comfortable silence, lounging on the old blanket Francis had brought with. The Mediterranean stretched out before them, glittering like a sapphire, the horizon obscured by midday haze. Barely perceptible waves lapped at the brilliant white sand, their murmuring the only sound other than the occasional breeze, hardly strong enough to lift their hair. Pale cliffs sheltered the beach from the rest of the world; earlier, they’d provided shade, too, but the sun was almost directly overhead now, and the only shade offered came from a sun-faded parasol propped up behind them. Feliks didn’t mind; the warmth of the sun on his skin was more than welcome after so many months stuck in the cold, or indoors…. It had been Francis’s idea to head south for a bit, and it had been his suggestion that morning to spend the day at the beach. “You need to rest,” he’d said, “and the warm air will your lungs good.” Feliks hadn’t complained—he was sick of Paris, and the warm air did make it much easier to breathe…he’d missed the sea, too. It’s the wrong sea, though, he thought. It was such a brilliant blue he still wasn’t quite sure he wasn’t hallucinating it, and Francis had brought the sweetest wine he’d ever tasted, grapes and berries and a melon all so ripe they were practically bursting, it was just the two of them…and yet. Vivid memories of searching for shells and amber when he was younger, alongside…. No, it was pointless to dwell on that.

4) heartlines (lietpol, rated M)

feliks learns to be a little more comfortable with himself around tolys.

Feliks took a deep breath, smoothing his skirt—hoping it would wipe the sweat from his hands in the process—before timidly placing his hand on the doorknob. He had been so confident that Tolys wouldn’t judge him until that moment, just before showing him. He was suddenly glad he’d decided against wearing makeup—that would have been far too much, he was sure—or maybe the fake earrings would be where Tolys would draw the line—instinctively, his hands flew to his ears to pull them off— He took another deep breath. He’d seen men in perfectly masculine clothes wearing earrings, this was fine. Anyway, Tolys is the one with hair past his shoulders, he thought. Clenching his jaw, he grabbed the handle, still not turning it. The best thing to do was just get on with it—either Tolys wouldn’t care, and this worrying was for nothing; or he would, and it was best to just get that humiliation over with. He could feel his hands growing slick again; he grimaced. Couldn’t he at least act confident? He’d done all sorts of crazy-ridiculous-stupid things without a second thought, why should this make his lunch want to come back up? He rolled his shoulders to adjust his posture, then opened his bedroom door before he could talk himself out of it.

5) midnight rendezvous (ruspol, rated E)

Feliks wants to blow off some steam, and Ivan is willing to help. Part of my whump/smut combo "bingo," the prompt was "spanking."

Feliks made his way through the darkened halls of Russia’s estate, wrapping his blue satin house robe tightly around himself as though it would stave off the cold. Winter had well and truly come, the oppressive cold leaking into the house through cracks in the walls and gaps in the windows. Had there been lights in the hall, Feliks was sure he’d be able to see his own breath. At least it was a clear night, and still; the nights where the wind shrieked as it hurled itself against the walls were by far the worst, and Feliks was not entirely convinced the old manor house they had all been stuffed into would withstand another winter after this one. The overwhelming smell of cheap perfume clung to him as he walked. It was annoying, to know the house well enough to be able to so easily avoid making the floors creak in his wake. Well, if he was going to be stuck living with Russia, he might as well get something out of it.

#q&a #nopeferatu #hetalia #my writing #thank you!!!#and thank you also beetroot and the two anons who sent me this lol

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icarusian · 2 years

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"how'd i get stuck with you of all people, anyway?" arthur asks, seemingly to himself. francis isn't insulted, though he remembers a time when he would have been.

"you don't consider yourself lucky? to be stuck with me of all people?" francis reaches over and idly smooths out a stray piece of arthur's hair. he can do that kind of thing now—get into arthur's personal space without a fight.

"what's lucky about waking up every morning to find my kitchen dirty? is it luck that i've spent every christmas for the past however many godforsaken centuries quarreling with you?" arthur takes a swig of his whiskey, sweet compared to the poison he spits.

"you woke up, didn't you?" francis asks, not unkindly. "you spent christmas with someone, didn't you?" arthur keeps his gaze level with francis, even as he reaches out to brush hair away from his eyes. francis looks unusually serious, but in that sentimental way arthur tries to avoid. "i think we're lucky," francis muses, "because no matter what changes and dies around us, we have each other. wouldn't you agree?"

this, at least, arthur is used to: francis weaves his sadness into pretty words, as if that will make it hurt any less.

i have loved and lost, but never you, he's saying.

arthur watches him for a moment longer, francis' easy smile never faltering. finally, arthur reaches for the wine bottle with a sigh and tilts it towards francis' glass—an offering. he reaches for the decanter once francis' glass is full, but—

"let me fill your cup, mon beau soldat," francis says, soft and tender, wrapping slender fingers around the decanter's neck. arthur can feel himself flushing. "you've been filling mine for decades now. let me return the favor." and arthur is too—shocked? embarrassed? touched? pleased?—overwhelmed to argue. he can only watch, stunned, as this man that makes his breakfast every morning and shows up at his doorstep every december 25th pours him a perfect glass of whiskey. like he's content to give back what arthur has given him.

francis looks at him, expectant. arthur has been making all the first moves this evening, after all. he laughs, surprised, when he realizes. arthur raises his glass between them. francis meets him halfway.

"to eternity."

"à l'éternité."

they clink their glasses and the second arthur downs his drink, francis scoots himself across the couch and into arthur's space with a pleased hum.

"that wasn't an invitation, frog."

"then do better to keep me on my side of the couch," he says, leaning his head onto arthur's shoulder.

"it's my couch, therefore you don't have a side." but arthur still does not push him away. and he knows it's because francis is right. so instead of ruining the pleasant, charged mood he makes a rare decision and decides to bask in it, resting his head on francis'.

for once, he thinks, luck might be on his side.

#and arent you lucky? to have someone to spend eternity with?#fruk #aph fruk #hws fruk #my writing #mine

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

MY BROTHERS FRIEND (PART FIVE)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: SMUT (not as graphic as usual for this final chapter)

Words: 3661

Note: This is the final chapter!

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

Out of Time

Just as Ada had left, Tommy finished his glass of Whiskey and looked at the picture of his late wife Grace which was standing on his desk.

But, it wasn’t Grace who appeared in his thoughts at this moment. In fact, Grace hadn’t visited him in his dreams and thoughts for weeks.

Tommy loved Grace and he knew that he would always love her. But could he ever love another woman and let anyone else into his life?

Just as he put the picture down and poured himself another glass of whiskey, he thought about what Ada had said to him. Was he becoming reckless because he was in love with you?

Love was a feeling which scared Tommy. It scared him when he was with Grace and it was scaring him now.

Just as he thought about your first time together, he realised how much he cared about you. Even that first night he met you at the Garrison, he remembered being intrigued by you.

You were much younger than him and Tommy hated the feeling of wanting you regardless. The feeling of want soon became a feeling of need. To him, it was almost like an addiction.

He was reckless, scarifying his business relationship with your father and his brotherly relationship with Finn because he needed you.

He hated to admit it, but Ada was right. He was in love with you.

He looked at the clock and it was ten to eight.

‘Fuck’ he sighed as he took his jacket from behind his seat and walked out of the door.

He quickly made his way to his car, starting the engine in a haste.

It was a ten-minute drive to Polly’s house and he hoped that he would get to you in time.

Ten minutes felt like an eternity and, as he finally arrived, he saw Dr Chen’s car leaving. Was he too late?

Tommy parked the car and ran towards Polly’s front door in a haste.

‘Polly, open up’ Tommy yelled, there was dead silence.

He observed that the curtains were closed but the light was on.

‘Open the fucking door Polly!’ he yelled again as he didn’t receive a response.

After about two minutes, Polly finally opened the door.

‘Thomas’ she said, not really surprised to see him. She knew that Ada was going to tell him.

‘Where is she?’ Tommy asked and, as he didn’t receive an answer, he asked again.

‘Where the fuck is she?’ he yelled as he pushed past Polly and walked through the hallway.

‘Tommy wait’ Polly said, but Tommy was ignoring her as he saw you sitting in the living room.

He ran over towards you and kneeled in front of the armchair you were sitting on.

‘Did you?’ Tommy asked with a deep sigh, taking your hands into his. You could see the raw emotions on his face.

‘I couldn’t’ you said while shaking your head and he let his forehead fall onto your laps, sighing with relief.

‘Why did you not tell me, eh? Why did you not fucking tell me Y/N?’ Tommy asked with a shaky but harsh voice. His eyes were full of pain, something you had never seen in him.

‘I was scared Tommy. I didn’t know what to do’ you said while Tommy looked up at you.

‘Scared about what Y/N? You know I would have taken care of you’ Tommy said, surprised about your response.

‘Thomas, this is not about money. I don’t want a benefactor for me and my child, I want a father. I was scared because I knew that you would never be that. We do not have a future together’ you said, tears running down your face.

‘Perhaps you are wrong Y/N’ Tommy said, wiping the tears from your face with his thumb.

‘Common’ he said as he got up, taking your hand.

‘Common where Tommy?’ you asked, still shook by your emotions. You knew that you would have the leave the following day, as instructed by your father.

‘Just trust me, eh? Let me make this right’ Tommy said just as you got up from your seat.

‘Thomas, I cannot let you take her with you. She is leaving tomorrow with her sisters. You know that’ Polly said.

‘No, she is not. Not with my child inside of her’ Tommy said harshly.

‘Thomas, you are making a mistake’ Polly said, blocking the doorway. ‘Abrahama will move against you and you know that you will need him to take out Kruger’ Polly added.

‘Polly, I swear to God, move out of the way’ Tommy said harshly, causing Polly to step aside with a deep sigh.

‘I cannot support you through this Thomas’ Polly said just as you walked towards the door.

‘I know and I do not expect you to’ Tommy said, leaving Polly’s house with you.

You followed Thomas to his car and sat down in the passenger seat.

You didn’t know where Tommy was taking you but you were certain about one thing. He had a plan. Thomas Shelby always had a plan.

‘I am sorry Tommy’ you said, as he started the car.

‘I know’ Tommy responded as he drove off.

‘My father is going to come looking for me in the morning. He will despise you for this’ you said.

‘I know’ Tommy responded.

‘I am glad you know. But now tell me, where are you taking me?’ you asked.

‘If I was to tell you, you wouldn’t agree’ Tommy said sheepishly, causing you to sigh.

During the drive, Tommy tried to distract you, talking about things that interest you. This was unusual for him and you could tell that he cared for you deeply.

The drive took about 15 minutes until you arrived at what appeared to be a camp of some sort. It was located in the middle of forest land and near a small lake. You felt as though you were being kidnapped.

‘Tommy, why are we here? This is Johnny Dogs’ camp. You know his family despises my father and me’ you said concerned.

‘But you are with me, so you are safe’ Tommy said.

‘Thomas this is not a joke, please take me back’ you demanded.

‘Y/N, listen to me. I love you, alright. And I will love our child. Now you just need to trust me. Can you do that?’ Tommy asked.

‘Did you just say that you love me?’ you said in disbelieve.

‘Yes, I fucking love you. That’s why I cannot lose you. I need you and my child to be safe’ Tommy said.

‘I love you too Tommy’ you said, still shocked by Tommy’s words.

‘Good’ Tommy said before giving you an urgent but passionate kiss and a cheeky smile. ‘Now common’ he added, taking your hand and walking towards one of the trailers.

‘Johnny, open up’ Tommy said as he knocked on the door of the red wooden trailer.

‘Tommy’ Johnny said surprised as he opened the door. ‘What the fuck is she doing here?’ he added.

‘I need your help’ Tommy said.

‘I am listening’ Johnny said sheepishly.

‘You’ve got a priest with you here at the commune, don’t you?’ Tommy asked.

‘A priest? Why do you want to make a fucking confession? Johnny asked with laughter.

‘No, I want to get married. Preferably now’ Tommy said.

‘Get married?’ you asked with shock.

‘Are you out of your fucking mind Tommy?’ Johnny asked just as you spoke.

‘Thomas, you cannot be serious’ you said.

‘Do I look like I am joking?’ Tommy asked.

‘You know my father would never approve of this, right?’ you asked.

‘I don’t intend to ask him for permission’ Tommy chuckled.

‘You haven’t even asked me yet Tommy’ you said with a laugh and, just in that moment, Tommy dropped onto his knees.

‘You are right, I haven’t’ Tommy said before he went on. ‘Y/N Gold, would you do me the honour in becoming my wife?’ Tommy said, holding your hands and looking up towards you.

‘You are serious, aren’t you?’ you said, still in shock about the proposal while Johnny Dogs shook his head in disbelieve.

‘I am serious Y/N. So, what is your answer?’ Tommy asked.

‘I would say yes if I was you’ Johnny said with a laugh.

‘Yes Thomas Shelby, I would gladly become your wife’ you said with a big smile on your face.

‘Now that this is settled, can you get the priest Johnny. We are in a bit of a hurry’ Tommy said in a haste.

‘Fucking Hell Tommy’ Johnny laughed, walking towards the priest’s trailer and gathering the rest of his family. ‘We are having a fucking wedding’ Johnny yelled in gypsy tongue.

Within 15 minutes, the priest married you and Tommy the traditional way and you knew that, being Tommy’s wife, you would be staying with him. He would keep you safe.

Whilst you imagined your wedding to be quite different, you knew why Tommy was doing this in a haste. The marriage between you and him created an undeniable alliance between your two families. Your father would be required to help Tommy move against the Kruger Family.

You also knew that Tommy wanted to take out Manuel Kruger soon now that he had so much to lose.

‘Now this wasn’t how I expected my day to end today’ you said as Tommy and you signed the marriage certificate.

‘Nor me’ Tommy said before telling you that it was time to go. He didn’t consider it safe to stay at the commune.

Wedding Night

The drive to Tommy’s house from the commune took about 15 minutes and you couldn’t help it but smile the entire way.

‘Welcome home Ms Shelby’ Tommy said after he parked the car and opened the door for you, carrying you over the doorstep.

You would have to get used to being called this. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have imagined to marry Thomas Shleby or anyone from the Shelby family.

‘Mr Shelby, Ms Gold, can I take your coats’ Francis asked and Tommy corrected her quickly. She looked slightly flustered when he did but she was used to surprises in this house after having worked for Tommy for many years.

‘Do you have work to do?’ you asked just as you and Tommy gave Francis your coats.

‘Not tonight. Work can wait till tomorrow’ Tommy said before kissing you gently.

‘Well then Mr Shelby, shall we go to the bedroom and complete the ceremony?’ you smirked, causing Francis to giggle.

‘I will give you some privacy. Just call for me or Maria if you need anything’ Francis said as she disappeared into the kitchen.

‘Soon’ Tommy said before giving you another kiss and taking your hand, walking with you towards the reading room.

‘Sit’ he said and you were wondering what he was doing as he disappeared in his office.

About five minutes later, he returned with a small box.

‘Open it’ he said as he sat down next to you.

You opened the box and inside was a beautiful but very tradition gypsy gold ring with different types of stones.

‘It is beautiful Tommy. It’s gypsy?’ you asked surprised, wondering where it came from.

‘It was mother’s wedding ring. She always wanted us to marry into the tradition, marry a gypsy woman one day. I cannot say that my father obtained it legitimately but I know you would appreciate it’ Tommy explained.

‘I love it’ you said as Tommy put the ring onto your finger before kissing you gently.

The kiss soon intensified as you pulled Tommy closer towards you until, finally, he was on top of you.

‘Tommy, take me to our bedroom’ you whispered as you grinded yourself against him.

‘As you wish’ Tommy said as he got up off the lounge and, all of a sudden, lifted you up, carrying you towards the bedroom.

‘I can’t believe we get to do this all the time now without having to hide’ you said excitedly as Tommy let go of you carefully and you stepped onto the warm wooden floor.

‘I can fuck you anywhere and everywhere now that you are my wife’ Tommy smirked as you stood in front of him and took off his shirt. Within seconds it landed on the floor.

‘Hmm Mr Shelby’ you said teasingly, as you dragged your hand along the front of his pants to rouse his cock that was already tumescent at the thought of you.

You then wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Lips collided in passion as your hands wandered down the front of his chest to his belt buckle.

The leather slipped through metal, the button slid through fabric, and two sides of a zipper said their goodbyes as they parted ways and allowed his very hard cock to spring free from the restraint of clothing.

‘Fuck’ Tommy murmured just as you kneeled in front of him to take a firm grip on his manhood and bring it to your inviting mouth.

He knew that he didn’t want to be with anyone else, ever, as his hands gently rested on both sides of your head while you began to love him with your mouth and hand.

You were enthralled with the cock in your hand and studied it with your eyes, hands, and mouth. All yours, forever. Your prize, the manliest part of the man you love; the part of him that brought you so much pleasure and belonged to you alone now.

As your hands reached down towards Tommy’s balls, playing with them gently, your tongue came all the way out and licked him from root to tip.

You could feel his hands on your head gently guide you down over him with your open mouth, slowly, deeply, relaxing your throat to take as much as you could, using your firm grip to make up for the base your mouth could not engulf.

Tommy soon began groaning louder as the tempo of your thrusts increased and you lost yourself in the feeling. Nothing else existed at this moment except for the hands on your head, the cock in your mouth and the man standing before you.

‘Slow down Y/N or you will make me come’ Tommy said as you bopped your head.

That was the very last thing he should have said if he truly wanted you to slow, for the thought of making him lose control, of making him cum in your mouth increased your own excitement.

You didn't slow; instead you squeezed harder, slid faster down his shaft, intermittently allowing your tongue to drag along the bottom.

‘Fuck’ Tommy moaned again, his hands firmer on your head, guiding himself in and out of your mouth. He was close, very close.

The jerking of Tommy’s cock almost caused it to pop out of your mouth, but you held firm as you felt your mouth fill with the sweet taste of warm cum, a taste associated with so much pleasure you felt a twitch between your own legs in response.

Unable to swallow properly with him deep in your mouth, you allowed his cum to fill your mouth, so much that some escaped and dribbled out the side and down your chin.

As Tommy gently removed himself, very slowly, you swallowed and allowed your tongue to drag along the shaft as he pulled out and wiped your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ he muttered and leaned back into the wall behind him, still standing, he shuddered.

Tommy offered a hand to help you up, then pulled you close and kissed you, tasting himself on you but not minding at all.

‘I love you so much’ Tommy whispered in your ear.

You pulled your head back and rested your forehead on his.

‘I know. I can actually feel how much you love me and I love you too’ you said before giving him another kiss and pulling him close.

After a few more passionate kisses, Tommy stepped out of his pants which were still knee high at this point and you could see his cock getting hard again.

You smirked and turned around.

‘Help me with the zipper?’ you asked as you lifted up your hair.

‘I would love nothing more’ he answered, but first he wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed your neck.

He moved his hands to the zipper that ran the length of your dress and slowly unzipped as he kissed his way down each vertebrae of your spine. When he reached your tailbone, you shrugged and the dress fell to the floor.

He straightened and backed up to admire the view as you turned around and with a sexy grin, unhooked your bra and tossed it to the floor.

Tommy closed the gap between you with one step and took you in his arms, his hands immediately on your bottom which was still covered in lacy blue fabric.

He squeezed your butt as your mouths explored one another's, and when his hand slid down your thigh and lifted one leg up you instinctively wrapped it around him as you stood in embrace.

Tommy’s hardness pushed into you, feeling the heat through your panties. He lifted your other leg off the ground and held you, both legs wrapped around him and your crotch resting on his hard cock.

Both your hands cupped his face and you giggled as he lowered you both on to the bed.

‘Please Tommy, just fuck me already’ you moaned as he was teasing you.

‘As you wish Mrs Shelby’ he grinned and, without hesitation, he fell into you and lost himself completely.

It was no longer you or him, you became one entity, moving in synchronicity, sliding in and out of each other again and again.

You rolled over and over in bed, taking turns being on top, eventually resting on your sides, arms and legs everywhere, with a constant slow rhythmic thrust of pelvises.

You were face to face, eyes open, just enjoying the communication of slow in and out, every stroke expressing passion as your tempo gradually grew in heightened urgency.

The raw vulnerability of your facial expressions was more erotic than anything Tommy could imagine, and when you came, your eyes squeezed shut and your teeth pulled on your bottom lip and he was so enchanted by the close-up face in ecstasy that he felt surprised when he realized he was coming too. He kept his eyes open as he released himself inside of you, and watched your tense expression relax into a smile and you giggled before opening your eyes.

‘I love you Thomas Shelby’ you said as he gently pulled out of you and collapsed next you.

‘And I love you Y/N Shelby’ Tommy smirked before taking you into his arms, which is where you laid until the next morning.

Finishing Business

The next morning began with a loud knock on the door and a lot of yelling.

‘Thomas Shelby, I am here to get my daughter. We are already late so I would appreciate your cooperation’ Abrahama said, yelling up through the open windows.

Tommy got up out of bed and opened the door. ‘She isn’t leaving’ he said firmly.

‘This is not your decision to make Mr Shelby, I am her father’ Abrahama said.

‘It is now’ Tommy said as he handed your father the certificate of marriage drawn up by the priest at Johnny Dog’s camp last night.

‘Is this a joke?’ Abrahama asked.

‘I am afraid not. The certificate has been signed by two witnesses and is legally binding’ Tommy said, pointing to the signatures.

‘Now would you like to come inside? We have some pressing matters to discuss’ Tommy said.

‘Thomas Shelby, you will pay for this’ Abrahama said, reaching for his gun.

‘Family is always to be treated with respect Mr Gold. These are your own words. Pointing a gun at your son in law is disrespectful’ Tommy said sheepishly.

‘You will never be family Mr Shelby’ your father argued, holding the gun up with determination.

Tommy didn’t move. He had no fear. It was almost like he knew that your father wouldn’t shoot him.

‘Father, stop. Put the gun down’ you said as you walked down the stairs in your nightgown.

‘Why Y/N? Why do you betray me like this?’ your father asked, putting down the gun.

‘I didn’t betray you father. I am carrying Tommy’s child. We have been involved for a while. I couldn’t tell you because you wanted me to marry Joseph Kruger’ you explained.

‘You are pregnant?’ your father asked, causing you to nod.

‘Out of all the women in Birmingham, it had to be my daughter?’ Abrahama asked.

‘Mr Gold, you should know that you cannot always choose who you fall in love with, eh? After all, you are involved with my aunt ’ Tommy said.

‘Now can we sit down and discuss how we will deal with our friend Manuel Kruger?’ Tommy asked.

Your father agreed, seeing that he no longer had a choice. He had to work with Tommy against your mutual enemy. The marriage between you and Tommy had created a traditional bond between your families and your father respected that despite the fact that he disliked the idea of Tommy being your husband.

Your father and Tommy sat down in the reading room and you decided to give them some space.

You made Tommy a promise to stay out of business and he made you a promise that he would keep you safe.

That same day, after their meeting, your father and Tommy left together to take out Manuel Kruger with the help of Johnny Dogs and take over the Kruger’s business.

But even with Kruger being taken out, would you ever be safe with your new husband?

This was a question you would never be able to answer.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #smut #peaky blinders smut

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intangibly-here · 3 years

Text

i miss you (more than anything)

zhongli x gn!reader

- scenario; 2.4k words - modern!au - fluff - jealousy

————————————————————

zhongli isn’t one for jealousy— usually.

title from mitski - francis forever.

requested by anon.

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“an excellent choice, sir.”

again with the nicknames...

slender fingers pick up a considerably stylized box, the smooth white a stark contrast to dark, glove-adorned palms. zhongli turns the box over in his hands, inspecting the various fine print explanations splayed along the edges of the plastic. now this is...

BANG!

clink.

zhongli barely stifles a flinch at the sound of the door slamming, hinges squeaking and metal lock clicking into place with a whirlwind of motion. amber eyes flick up to the doorway, then back down to the polished counter.

five minutes late.

he sets the ice cube he’s handling into a wine glass after a brief pause, beginning to fashion up a flute of apple cider vinegar. the pattering of lively footsteps against tiled flooring rapidly grows nearer, clattering to a halt directly across the bar from where he stands.

“hey there, mister zhongli! looking just about as boring as ever!”

hu tao plops into the cushioned chair, swiveling back and forth on the seat and leaning forward to watch him pour the concoction.

(it’s designated for customers of course— though that’s only usually. she happens to claim, to his exasperation, that she has “owner privileges”; whatever that could possibly mean when the place itself is meant to serve the needs of customers: that would include the spacing and chairs they may potentially desire when they enter the premises. unfortunately, he’s given up on understanding on her whims.)

from his position across the counter, zhongli absentmindedly spies the edge of a bright-red butterfly wing from underneath her outfit’s loose, flowing sleeves, the simple pendant string looped twice around her wrist.

swallowtail.

it’s the name (”like the butterfly, zhongli! the butterfly!”) of the establishment he’s currently employed at and is “run” by the granddaughter of a distant relative (though the bar is legally owned by said relative’s family). due to his— well, rather particular (per say) spending habits and a lack of mindfulness regarding the matter of what they liked to call savings (why would there be a need for these “savings”? he’d like to protest he’s traversed life well enough without them), he’d been pushed into putting the multitude of experience from past jobs into this one.

and well, here he is now.

chop. chop.

two evenly-sliced apple slices tip over from against the blade of the knife and onto the wooden cutting board. fetching a sprig of mint from the small potted plant just below the rack of knives (growing lights and shelving did wonders in the spontaneous lighting of the nightclub), zhongli finished decorating the non-alcoholic drink of choice for the pseudo-proprietress. who knew what havoc she’d cheerfully throw herself into, archons forbid, if it were liquor. she’s already enough of a handful as it is.

he sighs in resignation and slides the beverage over. the ice tinkles in the glass confines. he does have a favor to ask today after all. hu tao gives the drink a sniff, then puffs her cheeks in mock anger.

“no alcohol? booooo, you’re such a rock.”

she takes a generous sip anyway.

“so, what did you call me here for? not very zhongli-like for you to ask something of lil’ ol’ me. archons, have you been replaced?”

she squints at him judgingly, then raises an eyebrow when he hesitates to answer.

“doesn’t look that way, old man.”

zhongli can feel the beginnings of a headache forming between his brows. he waves his hand dismissingly as if flicking away her babbling nonsense.

“i have a favor to ask of you.”

“oh-ho?”

hu tao smirks playfully and pushes the half-finished drink aside, craning her neck forward.

“what can i do for our esteemed mister zhongli, hm? hehe.”

zhongli clenches his fist under the edge of the woodwork in an effort to calm his raging annoyance.

(it doesn’t help.)

he should just ask, shouldn’t he..?

“..i’ve been pondering this for a number of days now, but nothing quite appropriate for the occasion has happened to come to mind... do you happen to have any gift ideas for...”

he looks to the side to avoid eye contact and trails off, but hu tao immediately gets the memo.

“ohhh..” her smile only grows wider, “this is for your daaaate—”

zhongli’s face flushes the slightest tinge of rosy pink and he hisses a sharp “shush!” through gritted teeth. and here he had thought she couldn’t get on his nerves beyond how she’d already acted thus far...

the cheshire grin on her face still continues to climb.

“well, you’ve definitely asked the right person! how about...”

some new polaroid film? is what she had proposed.

“it’s not some fancy-schmancy anniversary gift, no? just a date! a date! don’t worry yourself so much over it— no, don’t look at me like that. if you called me over to ask about it, you’re deeeefinitely losing hair over this— okay, okay, i got it! don’t kick me out! old man... sheesh. why don’t you get some more polaroid film and wrap it up all nice? useful and an excuse to take more pictures together! i know, i know, i’m a genius— mmph!”

he can still hear her voice bouncing around in his head (”can’t believe you’re getting rid of your boss, mister zhongli! didn’t take you for the rebellious type—”). zhongli brings his hand up to his temple and breathes out another sigh. it’s not like her idea was a terrible one; if anything, it were a wonderfully exquisite proposal— not that he would tell her.

“i’d like to purchase this, if you would.”

he hands the box over to the shopkeep, who scans the package and rings up the bill. indiscreetly, he feels up the pocket of his jacket. thank the archons he remembered his wallet today. it would certainly be embarrassing to put this particular item on your tab.

“sure thing, mister zhongli. i’m assuming this is a gift,” they eye him knowingly, “so would you like it wrapped up?”

deja vu, his brain mutters, this is very much deja vu. he shuts it up promptly.

“not this time, but you have my sincerest thanks for the offer. i’d like to wrap it myself.” he can feel his (generally..) expressionless face flaring up the faintest hint of pink and berates his mind once more. only when it comes to you...

acquiring the purchased item, zhongli dips his head in acknowledgement as he heads out. the plants hanging from baskets strung along the ceiling sway their leaves to and fro, nearly catching a wayward lock of his hair. he smooths the stray strand back.

“thank you once again, aether. let lumine know they can drop by for some tea again whenever they’d like for me, please.”

the bell hanging over the doorway tinkles when he pushes it open, and the bustle of the busy harbor seeps into the tranquility of the shop. aether nods and waves a hand at him in return, resting an arm on the cash register.

“come again.”

while he’d imagined many ways your planned outing could play out, this was certainly not one of them.

he’s approaching the meeting spot you two had decided on (right in front of the flowering quince tree near the park; its blooms resemble those of simpler, smaller silk flowers, and it happens to be quite the scenic location to wait) when he spies not only your stature, but another figure residing right besides you.

who...?

as he steps closer, he can hear your laughter, the kind that he knows bubbles out of your chest and escapes your lips unconsciously. your amusement isn’t lost on your companion apparently, because they smirk teasingly, letting out a full-blown laugh of their own.

“oh, zhongli, over here!”

your voice snaps him out of his meandering thoughts, and he stops fiddling with his earring (when did he start doing that?), continuing forward from where he’d paused in his observations of this newcomer. something starts to bloom in his chest, small and bittersweet. he’s not sure what to make of it.

following your beckoning, zhongli finally makes his way to your side, mentally taking note of your.. friend? he doesn’t remember you mentioning anyone like this before though. surely he would remember your friends, no?

his earring sways in the wind, white tassel fluttering cheerfully.

“zhongli, this is my friend kaeya. i met him when i made that trip to mondstadt awhile back, remember that? oh, and kaeya, this is my boyfriend zhongli.”

(the little dragon curled up in his heart preens at your introduction of him, small and sweet.)

ice blue meets molten gold when zhongli’s eyes dart up to make eye contact with this stranger. they squint at him, assessing, then dip into the makings of a playful twinkle. a hand reaches out for a handshake, which he returns in equal measure. interesting...

“he got a little lost touring liyue and i happened to see him here in the park. small world, huh? i know it was our day love, but do you mind if we take him around for today?”

zhongli smiles appeasingly, gentle and assuring as always. he can recognize the slightly nervous look on your face, one that’s a stark contrast to how energetic you’d looked just a few minutes ago. if kaeya’s company makes you happy and you’d like to take him around, then who is he to refuse your request? you two will have more time to spend with just the two of you later, he reasons with himself. accompanying your friend, and in turn his acquaintance, is nothing big.

(and no, it’s certainly not you calling him love that makes him cave.)

“of course we can.”

tugging at the string of his eyepatch, kaeya swiftly ties his hair back and adjusts the collar of his shirt. “so, where to first?”

zhongli takes your hand in his, squeezing softly. you squeeze back.

getting along together should come just fine.

he takes it back.

he takes it all back.

he’d accepted it at first because, well, this was your friend. he shouldn’t be controlling who you interact with nor who befriended you - that’s not up to him. it shouldn’t ever be. however— with every passing moment that kaeya inched closer to you, taking up the entirety of your attention and bringing that bright, bright grin to your face—

(this was supposed to be your date. just the two of you. he hasn’t seen you in a month; surely he can feel a bit selfish, right?)

the three of you turn the corner to an intricately-themed restaurant and pause, where even zhongli looks appreciatively at the beautifully grown bamboo stalks lining the edges of its front walls.

“wanmin restaurant,” kaeya reads, craning his neck up to gaze at the signboard. bold red calligraphy is sprawled across the rough-cut wood. “awfully simple name for such a stunning place, isn’t it?”

if he weren’t stewing in a pot of conflicted emotions, zhongli would surely inform him of how carefully selected this title was, how it represented more than just a name, how it hid at least several decades worth of effort and teachings— but as it is, he (really, of all people) has no patience for that at the moment.

first tugging on the hem of your outfit, zhongli then takes you by the elbow and hastily leads you forward to the glass doors of the establishment. he grasps your hand in his as usual, but something must be off, because you twitch a little and look at him curiously.

he turns his head away, lips pursed just the slightest.

“let us dine here for the time being. it is an appropriate time and place, after all.”

the sun shines brightly in the clear sky as if illuminating his words.

kaeya raises an eyebrow, singular eye looking on inquisitively and arms crossed, then moves further ahead of you both once more. the corner of his mouth dips in a clear show of mirth. bowing with one arm held at the waist, one not unalike a formality from a server, he looks straight into zhongli’s eyes and holds the door open for entrance.

“that sounds like an excellent idea. well, if you would.”

“thanks for the tour around you two.”

kaeya hums his thanks with a cheerful lilt to his voice as you all stand under the porchlight of zhongli’s house.

(it’s not the largest abode, but it’s cozy and sweet, and it’s definitely enough for the both of you whenever you decide to stay over. tonight is one of those nights, and they may as well become more frequent after the trip you took abroad.)

his car keys reflect the glow of the bulb, swinging around his finger in loops. they clink noisily, metal against metal, and he grabs them all at once, halfway through another turn. in his car sits a box of treasure-themed artifacts, likely old and had found its way into your hands somehow. zhongli knows you’d been meaning to give them to someone, but he hadn’t known it were kaeya— either way, the artifacts that’d been laying on his shelves for weeks were now handed off.

ruffling your hair, kaeya pulls you in for a brief hug; although zhongli can feel the bitter pang in his chest, he stays where he stands, keeps it still and small. he can wait.

that said, the moment kaeya drives off, he’s hauling you into the house and curling up on the couch, pulling you onto his lap and tugging you into his arms. the long thought over gift sits patiently on the counter. it’s waited the entirety of today; it can wait another.

right now, he needs you.

your body sinks against his, relaxing from the lively, though exhausting, day. slumped against his chest, he burrows his head in the crook of your shoulder and cuddles you, nuzzling into your neck. finally, you’re home. home with him.

it’s warm...

“..it was our day...”

you shift your head at his mumbling, lifting his chin to presumably look at his expression. your attention is his now. not kaeya’s. not anyone else’s. just his.

(his eyes are soft and droopy, smudged red making them look especially mellow in the dim lighting, and lips pushed into the slightest pout. he knows what you’re seeing when you gaze at him fondly, and you can almost see the puppy eyes he sports. how unusual of him.)

“someone’s a little jealous here, hmmm?”

you drag out the syllables teasingly, and from lips that are pressing kisses against your skin, he responds a little muffled—

“perhaps.”

#zhongli #genshin impact #fluff #jealousy #zhongli x gn!reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #request #cecilia

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twstgabrielle · 2 years

Text

Super Lonely

Warning: Slight mentions of depression, if that makes y'all uncomfortable I highly recommend y'all check out my other works!!

I know I fucked up, I'm just a loser~ Shouldn't be with ya, guess I'm a quitter~ While you're out there drinkin', I'm just here thinkin'~ 'Bout where I should've been~ I've been lonely, mm, ah, yeah~

The house was quiet. Not a single sound was heard throughout it, making it seem like a empty tomb than a home. Yet despite the silence of the place there was a sign of life in it. Laying on the carpeted floor of a lavish living room, was Francis Bonnefoy or better known to many as France. An empty wine glass sat next to him, having been drained awhile ago. The Frenchman was staring at his ceiling with a somewhat blank expression on his face. He didn't move from his spot on the floor, instead he let himself get lost in his head. Memories and hazy half made thoughts drifted around in his head, making him detached from reality to an extent. It wasn't often that the French nation did this type of thing, yet today from the moment he'd woken up he knew that it was going to be one of those days.

One of those days where he had no energy to do anything. One of those days where he wanted nothing more than to just disappear from the rest of the world for awhile so he could be left alone with his thoughts. It wasn't often that he got these days, where even the smallest of things seemed to be overwhelming. Yet when he did experience those days it was an absolute struggle. Depression was a rather terrible thing, making him feel like he was completely buried by everything and throwing him into a slump. Francis took a deep breath, his azure blue hues full of nothing but exhaustion. He gently closed his eyes to try and rest, listening to his surroundings. The gentle sounds of the rain outside his home filled his ears, the light water droplets hitting his windows in a steady manner. In a way it was somewhat soothing, as if the weather was trying to help him. Yet at the same time the rain also made him ache in a bitter way. It reminded him that even though he didn't want to be around people, he was still isolated. A spectator who was watching the world through its windows, feeling helpless and stuck in the same place.

'But hasn't it always been this way? Hasn't he always been isolated in some way, shape or form? Forever cursed to never really be in the company of others?'

Francis took another deep breath as the questions swam in his head. It was a sad and tragic truth that he didn't like to dwell on. Despite being surrounded by many people, Francis was still oh so very isolated from everyone. To many he was known to be a flirt and a day dreamer. He could be perverted and crude and annoying if he really wanted to. Yet underneath all of it he felt extremely alone. Separated from everything and everyone in a way that it overwhelmed him some days. For centuries he was alone, always losing those who were important to him. A flash of an old memory hit him of a woman with short blondish brown hair and intelligent bluish green eyes. He sucked in a sharp breath fighting the response that he always had when he thought of her.

'It's been centuries Francis, don't let it pull you further into this abyss.'

He told himself fighting the rising ache he was feeling. It was consuming, almost like it was slowly pulling him down like quicksand.

Water pouring down from the ceiling~ I knew this would happen, still hard to believe it~ Maybe I'm dramatic, I don't wanna seem it~ I don't wanna panic~

As the Frenchman tried to pull himself together he was hit with more thoughts and emotions, each beginning to weigh on him more and beginning to drown him. All the memories of his mistakes and losses and moments of tragedy that he'd experienced. All the pain and uncertainty and exhaustion that he had, always waiting to strike him down and keep him there. The emotional turmoil he began to feel made him spiral into his head, making his throat tighten and his eyes burn. Why? Why did today have to be a bad day? He'd been doing so well to and now here he was, completely losing it. As the Frenchman let out a few shaky gasps he was suddenly startled by the loud chiming coming from his pants pocket.

It was his cellphone.

He'd gotten a message.

Hands trembling he pulled out the cell, his vision blurred slightly from the tears. Mistyping his code a few times he finally managed to get it open just as it chimed again. Opening the messaging app Francis was greeted by the familiar sight of his messages. Several read ones from Ludwig, Matthew, Feliciano and Alfred hit his gaze first before landing on the unopened ones. Tapping on the unread messages he was greeted by the sight of a group chat that had been made awhile ago. Two new messages were in the chat.

'Oi you bearded bastard, where are you? You were supposed to be here today?'

The first message said, the familiar texting style letting Francis know who exactly sent it. The only one who called him that was none other than his fellow nation England or as Francis called him Arthur. His eyes scanned the second message in the chat.

'Yo Franny! Arthur's been trying to reach you where are you at?'

The second message read, this one from his other fellow nation Prussia or rather Gilbert. Francis was debating on whether he should answer the messages or just put his phone away and go back to his depressive down spiral when his cell chimed again, a third message coming into the group chat.

'Francis mi amigo you're starting to worry us. Is everything okay?'

The third message said, the last one belonging to Spain or rather Antonio. That was the final nail in the coffin. The Frenchman's hands began to tremble more, the tears falling down faster.

I'm a sad girl, in this big world~ It's a mad world~ All of my friends~ Know what's happened~ You're a bad thing~

At the lack of response his phone chimed again this time the message from Arthur.

'We're coming over.'

Francis stared at the message his brain not processing the words on his screen. Turning his cell off he put it next to him and covered his eyes with his arms, silent tears staining his cheeks. It felt like he was in that position for a millennia, just slowly falling apart on his living room floor. He barely twitched when the familiar sound of his front door being unlocked sounded out. Three pairs of footsteps made their way into the large home, one of them being lighter and quicker than the other two. The first pair made their way into the living room and a sharp intake of air was heard before they quickly made their way towards him. Gentle yet firm hands grabbed at his arms.

"Bloody hell Francis.....why didn't you say something?"

Arthur's voice spoke to him, soft and gentle. The complete opposite of the usual crisp and irritated tone he usually had. The two other men had finally entered the living room and caught sight of the duo.

"Ver damnit Francis, you should have called us."

Gilbert's voice scolding and upset came from his one side.

"Amigo we could have helped you sooner."

Antonio chimed in his tone anxious and saddened. Francis felt Arthur slowly pull him up into a sitting position.

"Let's get you onto the sofa yeah? You've probably been on the floor for quite a bit."

The Englishman said as he went to help him up from the floor. As Arthur did this Gilbert had grabbed the empty wine glass and Francis's cellphone so it wouldn't be stepped on. Antonio began to make his way towards the kitchen.

"I'll go make you something warm to drink. You'll need it from being on a cold floor."

The Spaniard said sweetly offering his friend a small smile to try and help ease him before disappearing from sight. Gilbert with the wine glass and cellophane in his grasp placed them on the glass coffee table and jogged towards the grand staircase.

"I'll go get some blankets. Arthur you stay with him and keep an eye on him."

The Prussian said his tone stern. Arthur resisted the urge to sigh at it and gave him a small nod. Satisfied Gilbert disappeared up the stairs leaving the two nations be. Francis leaned against Arthur as the smaller man helped him onto the sofa. With a confronting grip on him the grouchy nation set Francis on the soft cushions before sitting down beside him. With a small tug Arthur pulled Francis's head into his lap and began to gently run his fingers through his long blonde hair.

"You could have told us it was a bad day. We would have been here sooner you know?"

Arthur asked his voice full of concern and sincerity. Francis felt his eyes burn at his friend's honesty and gripped his pants leg.

"I didn't want to worry you petit lapin...."

The older nation spoke softly his voice cracking a bit from the lack of use and his tears. Arthur just stared at him, his movements pausing. Francis felt his heart sink a bit at the action, a small feeling of insecurity hitting him. Arthur had finally had enough of it, he finally wanted to wash his hands of the Frenchman. However he wasn't expecting the smaller hand to gently cup his cheek and tilt his head up. The French nation felt his breath stop at the gaze he was met with. Bright green eyes full of concern and sincerity and slight affection stared into his dark blue ones.

"Francis Bonnefoy. You will never trouble me with these things, neither will you trouble Toni and Gilbert with them either. We care about you and want to be there for you when you're struggling. So please don't think such nonsense....."

The English nation said his tone serious. Francis looked at him taken aback by the honest words. The tears began to fall faster and he buried his head into the younger nation's stomach, wrapping his arms around him in an embrace. Arthur rubbed his shoulders, petting his head in a gentle manner, letting Francis cry into his stomach.

I know I fucked up, I'm just a loser~ Shouldn't be with ya, guess I'm a quitter~ While you're out there drinkin', I'm just here thinkin'~ 'Bout where I should've been~ I've been lonely, mm, ah, yeah~ La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la~ Lonely (I'm a lonely chic)~ La-la-la-la, la-la-la-la~ Lonely (Supalonely)~

As the two held each other Antonio came into the living room, a small tray holding four steaming mugs of his spiced hot chocolate. The Spaniard paused at the scene making the Englishman look up at him. Two pair of green eyes began to have a silent conversation with one another, conveying the situation. Once it was understood Antonio made his way towards the sofa and placed the tray onto the coffee table.

"Mi querido amigo, I brought you a cup of my famous hot chocolate just for you~"

Antonio cooed somewhat to try and get Francis out of Arthur's stomach. Francis turned his head towards his other friend his gaze debating for only a second before he finally and reluctantly pulled himself from Arthur and sat himself up on the sofa. Antonio smiled brightly, pleased to finally get a reaction out of his friend. With almost hesitant hands Francis reached out for a mug. Once Francis got his Antonio grabbed one and passed it to Arthur. The English nation took it with a small grateful smile making the Spanish nation beam even more. It was then that Gilbert finally appeared into the living room, his arms full of blankets and pillows.

"So the awesome me couldn't choose between the blankets or pillows so I decided to just grab the both of them."

Gilbert said sounding pleased at his forethought. Antonio perked up at the mention of blankets and pillows.

"Ah-! We can make a pile of them on the sofa and cuddle in them while we drink out cocoa!"

Antonio chimed in an excited way. Gilbert seemed to instantly perk up at the suggestion his red eyes bright with childish glee.

"Ja! Great idea Toni! We're going to make the most awesome pile in the world!"

The Prussian said confident. As the two of them began to plan they suddenly turned to the other duo of their group.

"Hey Arthur! You should totally help out, since you make some comfortable piles!"

Gilbert said a smirk on his face. Antonio turned his attention towards the Englishman his face almost sparkling in a way.

"Si! You and Francis can work together while me and Gilbert work together!"

Antonio chirped happily. Arthur gave them a small look before looking at Francis.

"I don't mind, are you up for it Francis or do you want to sit it out?"

Arthur asked his eyes questioning and obversing his friend. Francis blinked owlishly at the younger nation not expecting to be spoken to quite so soon before looking at his two other fellow nations.

"Amigo you don't have to if you don't want to. It won't bother us either way."

The Spaniard said his tone softer than it was before.

"Ja we can handle it if you don't want to Fran."

Gilbert chimed in reassuringly. The Frenchman stared at the trio for a moment or two, his expression thoughtful. After a beat of silence Francis finally answered.

"Oui, I would like to if you don't mind."

He said earning three looks of relief and various levels of enthusiasm. Antonio begin the most enthusiastic of them and Gilbert being the second closest. Arthur kept his enthusiasm at a more subdued level, not wanting to overwhelm the older nation.

"Fantástico! Let's get started then!"

The Spaniard cheered happily already going to get started.

"Hey slow down you Attrappe! Let me have some blankets-"

The Prussian somewhat childish complained going to join him. The Brit just shook his head in exasperation at the display before returning his attention to the Frenchman.

"We'd better get started if we're going to keep of with them."

Arthur said with a small sigh of sorts. Francis felt his lips twitch a bit at the Brit's sigh of exasperation. For the first time since his day began he felt his heart lighten.

"Oui but of course."

He replied with a half smile. The genuine emotion from the older man made the younger one smile at him. The group of four spent the rest of the afternoon putting blankets and pillows on and around the sofa, making it as comfortable and as perfect as possible. Once they'd done it they spent a good chunk of time snuggled within them, sipping Antonio's delicious hot chocolate and just talking to each other. As the day drifted away Francis slowly felt himself lighten up. The emotional turmoil and suffocating isolation he'd been feeling becoming not as overwhelming as it was earlier. Granted it wasn't gone completely, after all having bad days as awful as this one it wasn't magically cured in a day. But being surrounded by the three people that he loved dearly and being in their presence helped him cope a little bit better than he would have if they hadn't shown up.

Before they knew it the day had dwindled away and evening was upon them. The sounds of their voices covering the noise of the rain that had grown heavier in its course. Antonio had made dinner and the small group ate and conversed. Francis had let out a few small huffs of laughter and a few smiles that evening which made the others preen at the sight of it. After they'd gotten done with dinner and cleaned up they made their way back to their pile and snuggled back into the warm blankets. As the night began to fully take over the four of them slowly grew drowsy, leaning against each other. Francis was leaning against Antonio while Arthur was somewhat curled up into Francis's side. Gilbert was on the other side of Arthur leaning against the smaller man slightly. Francis stared at them, his gaze gentle and fond. He had no idea what he'd do without Arthur, Antonio and Gilbert in his life. The trio made his life complete and made his bad days slightly more bearable. A feeling of gratitude and affection settled into his chest.

"Merci mes amis je vous aime."

The French nation whispered meaning every word of it.

"No es un problema te amo también."

The Spanish nation replied just as softly.

"Ja, wir lieben dich auch, es war kein Problem."

The Prussian nation said into the quiet atmosphere.

"We'll always be here for you, we love you and we'll always be there."

The English nation said soft and sincere. Francis smiled a small genuine smile feeling loved. He knew that he was always going to have bad days, that his depression wasn't going to completely go away.

But he was willing to face those days. Because having his beloved companions by his side, he knew without a doubt that he'd be fine.

*So today is a day where my mind is wandering because I'm literally iced into my house (thanks Ohio winters) so I'm just kinda lowkey down by all the constant snow. So what better way to go with the motions than with writing. I went with Francis because it's an actual canon fact that he has days were he kinda just goes quiet and somewhat depressed in a way, making him a very relatable boi. Plus SupaLonely by Benee is a bop. I just basically wanted some mindless fluff involving these lads and the relationship they could possibly have if they were able to interact more. Whether their relationship is platonic or romantic is completely up to y'all sgdgdgdgdh. Translations for the ending sentences: Ja, wir lieben dich auch, es war kein Problem means Ya we love you as well, it was no trouble in German. No es un problema te amo también means It's not a problem, love you too in Spanish. And finally Merci mes amis je vous aime means Thank you my friends, I love you in French. This was from Google translate so I apologize if they're inaccurate shsgdgf. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!!*

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koolkat9 · 3 years

Note

Heya! I don't know if prompts work this way, so feel free to choose whatever you want, but can you make more than one prompt into a whole story? Like - “Please, don’t leave.” , “Kiss me.” , “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” - where Francis takes drunk Arthur home, so they talk, cuddle and Arthur is more honest to Francis about his feelings than normal, so after that they fall asleep and date??? Idk if this would be too hard, anyway, tnx in advance and have a nice day!

Oooh I haven't had such a detailed request, but hey! It's very inspiring.

Prompt: “Please, don’t leave.” , “Kiss me.” , “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

Paring: Fruk

Word Count: 1312

Are We...

‘1:00 am,’ the clock laid out in big red numbers. Who the hell would be calling at this hour? Heaving himself up from his warm sheets and comfortable bed, Francis trudged over to his dresser where his cellphone was going off.

“Ever heard of beauty sleep?” he hissed into the phone when he picked up.

“Please forgive me Francis...it's just…” Francis softened at the sound of Ludwig’s voice. Something really must have been wrong for Ludwig of all people to be calling at this hour. “I’m sorry to wake you, but would you be able to take Arthur home. I would but Gilbert tagged along tonight and he’s hammered too.”

“Say no more mon ami. I’m on my way.”

---

When he came upon the bar, he found Ludwig, clearly tired, supporting both Gilbert and Arthur who were arguing about some drunken nonsense. Normally, Francis would have found it amusing, but it was late and he had had a rude awakening.

“Bonsoir, thank you for taking care of him,” He greeted.

A look of relief flashed across Ludwig’s face. “Of course and thank you for coming so late.”

When Arthur turned his insults to him, Francis only sighed, taking the Brit into his arms. “Get your grimy hands off of me,” Arthur hissed, words jumbling together. Not in the mood to argue, he agreed and let go.

As soon as Arthur took a step he fell forward landing right on his face. Francis bit back a laugh as he helped the now sputtering man up and to the car. “Goodnight Allemagne and take care of Gilbert.”

“Goodnight.”

When he got them both situated into the car, Francis noticed Arthur furiously wiping his eyes. “Did you hurt yourself?” he asked, trying to hide his amusement, “maybe next time you don’t push me away when I’m trying to help.”

Arthur only let out a ‘hmph’ as he turned to look out the window, his head pressing against it. By the time they pulled up to Arthur’s house, the Englishman was fast asleep. He remained as such even when Francis picked him up and brought him to bed.

When they got to the bedroom, Francis debated putting Arthur in his pajamas. He ultimately decided it would be best to just tuck him in right away (he wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries or do something so intimate without consent). It was relatively easy, or at least easier than it normally was to get Arthur in bed in his drunken state. That was until Francis got up to leave and a hand shot out to grab his wrist. “Please, don’t leave,” Arthur slurred, his grip tightening.

Francis looked at Arthur and then at their hands. He knew he wasn’t getting out of this. A soft smile spread across his face as he climbed into bed beside Arthur. “What’s this all about mon lapin?” Francis asked, laying down to be face to face with Arthur.

Arthur cuddled closer, burying his face into Francis’s chest. “Don’t...Don’t make me say it.”

“Okay, but you know you can always tell me anything. It wouldn’t be the first time one of us has confided in the other.”

Arthur’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “I...I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

It was as if the whole world stopped at those words. Francis, though a flirt and self-proclaimed romantic, felt his cheeks grow warm and his heartbeat quicken. With a lack of reply, Arthur’s shoulders began to shake as sobs began to rack his body.

“Oh...Oh, Arthur…” Francis murmured.

“Shut up,” Arthur shrieked, pushing away from the Frenchman, “don’t you dare pity me.”

“H-How could I? I know...I mean... I’m scared too...but I love you so much.”

“D-Don’t lie to me,” The Englishman shrieked.

“I’m not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then how shall I prove myself hmm?”

Arthur went quiet for a moment, his brows furrowing and his nose scrunching up slightly as he thought. ‘Just like a bunny,’ Francis thought fondly.

“Kiss me.”

Arthur was full of surprises tonight. For a moment, Francis found himself unable to form a complete sentence at the sudden forwardness. Still, Arthur was drunk so he knew his answer would be ‘no.’ “You’re drunk. Maybe when you’re sober-”

“I knew it.” With a huff, Arthur flipped himself around, his back now facing Francis.

Francis’ stomach dropped at how hurt Arthur sounded. Sure he said he liked making the man’s life miserable, but in recent times, he stopped meaning it. “Oh Angleterre," Francis whispered. Leaning over, he placed a soft, goodnight kiss on Arthur’s cheek, “maybe if you remember this tomorrow, I’ll give you the kiss you want.”

Arthur grumbled some more, but he seemed to accept it, and eventually, quiet snores began filling the room. After one more kiss planted on the back of Arthur’s head, Francis started to nod off.

---

Arthur woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. ‘When will I ever learn?’ he thought as he closed his eyes once more, trying to block out the light. When that didn’t work, he pulled a pillow from beside him and covered his eyes with it. As he tried to regain his bearings, memories from the previous night came flooding back. A blush spread across his face and down his neck as he recalled his confession to Francis. “God damn it.”

He turned himself around to find the place where Francis had been sleeping empty. His chest tightened at the thought of Francis leaving in the middle of the night after he had poured his whole heart out to him as he did. Then he remembered how the Frenchman had claimed he felt the same way. If that was true, where was he now?

“Oh, you’re up,” Francis’ voice called. Arthur turned to find him in the doorway, a glass of water and a medicine bottle in his hand. “For your head,” he explained, handing him the items. Arthur took them gratefully before settling back down and putting the pillow back over his face.

“I take it you’re not feeling too hot,” Francis said, joining him on the bed.

“Wonder what gave you that idea,” Arthur spat back, though it was more teasing than anything.

“This is why you need to be careful.”

“Okay, mum.”

“Ugh you’re hopeless,” Francis tsked. “What do you think we should have for breakfast?”

He was avoiding what happened last night. Not that Arthur had much room to speak since he also hadn’t mentioned anything. As they conversed, Arthur realized how easy it would be just to forget it all. Surely it would be easier, but at the same time, Francis' words: “I’m scared too...but I love you so much,” were still at the back of his mind.

“So...where’s that kiss?” Arthur asked, glancing away from Francis. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Frenchman’s eyes widen and his mouth fall open. He didn’t say anything for a good five minutes much to Arthur’s annoyance. “So much for the country of love,” Arthur scoffed before pressing a firm kiss on Francis’ lips. It was quick, but at least it got the message across.

“What...How...I…Espèce de petit bâtard effronté!” With that Francis was on top of him, attacking the Brit’s sides with tickles. Arthur wasn’t about to let Francis have the upper hand and started fighting back. Soon enough the two were rolling around on the bed in a fit of giggles, trying to exhaust the other and end up on top. Despite their best efforts, neither ended up winning as they tried around the same time with Francis collapsing on top of him, red-faced and panting. Arthur’s arms made their way around Francis’ waist, keeping him right where he was.

“So…” Francis began once he caught his breath.

“So?”

“Are we…”

“Lovers.” It came out as a statement, not a question.

A goofy smile spread across Francis’ face. “Good.”

With a quick kiss on the nose from Francis, they laid there, content just being with each other. Breakfast and Arthur's headache were long forgotten.

Espèce de petit bâtard effronté=You cheeky little bastard

#hetalia #hws #fruk #ukfr #hws france #hws england #drunk confessions #fanfiction prompt #fluff #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction

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aph-english-rose · 3 years

Text

Office Talk

So I originally wrote this fic for usuk week but was completely swamped with work and missed it. I’ve decided that instead of leaving it completed but abandoned that I’ll post even though the event it was intended for has been and gone.

This was inspired by the 2021 usuk week prompt for day 1: Rumours!

Paring: USUK

Words: 2711

Summary: Arthur has been the centre of many rumours since taking on the role of personal assistant. However, the most recent rumour floating around the office appears to be based upon more than just gossip.

You can also read it on AO3 or on FF.Net

_____________________________________________________________

Arthur knew that something was off the moment he walked into the break room. Francis was lingering suspiciously beside the kettle in the corner, his lower back resting against the countertop. His fingertips were wrapped around an obnoxiously coloured reusable coffee cup, eyes staring off into the distance until he heard Arthur enter.

“Well, well, well… if it isn’t the man himself,” He remarked as Arthur approached him.

Naturally, Francis - being the irritating twit that he was – had positioned himself awkwardly in front of the kettle, the only thing Arthur needed to use in the entire breakroom. Francis never attempted to move out his way, watching in amusement as Arthur struggled around him. He barely even flinched when Arthur ‘accidentally’ elbowed him on the back of the head as he pulled out two reusable cups in monotone colours and set them on the counter.

“Are you planning to move at all?” Arthur huffed, a scowl forming on his face as he flicked the kettle to boil. Francis merely smirked at him from behind his coffee cup and took a loud slurp of his drink. Arthur felt his left eye twitch. Although he knew Francis was simply playing and meant no harm, the Frenchman knew full well what tiny little things made Arthur’s teeth grind. Knowing that Francis had no intentions of moving, Arthur worked around him, reaching across the counter for a tea bag and placing it in one of the cups along with two spoonsful of sugar. In the other, Arthur poured the perfect amount of coffee granules.

“You’re the talk of the office this morning you know.”

“Why? What have I done this time?” Arthur asked, squeezing himself into the tiny gap Francis had left for him where the corners of the countertops met. He mirrored Francis’ stance, his back leaning against the counter and his arms folded against his chest as the kettle whistled away behind him. They were unnecessarily close, their arms pressed against each other, but neither made the motion to shuffle up and make more space. If Francis wanted to play this game, then Arthur was happy to oblige. Besides, in a battle such as this both knew Arthur was the most stubborn and wouldn’t back down. Arthur knew that eventually Francis would lose interest. Luckily, being this close didn’t bring much discomfort. Arthur had known Francis since they were teenagers. They had grown up together and as a much as they enjoyed winding each other up, Arthur knew it was merely playful banter and that Francis genuinely cared about him.

“There is a rather juicy rumour floating around.”

“How lovely.”

“Even I am starting to wonder if it’s true and you know I’m not one for rumours.”

Arthur snorted a laugh, turning to make his drinks as soon as the kettle had come to boil. Arthur didn’t believe Francis for a single second. Francis was the biggest gossiper in the entire office. The only reason Arthur knew half the employees in the building was because of Francis and his inability to stay quiet. He thrived off the tales, bouncing from one person to another until he had heard all sides of story. Only then, when he had figured out the facts, did he pester Arthur with the information. Sometimes Arthur wondered if he was in the wrong career. Surely someone with such skills would make an impressive investigator.

“Of course not. Are you going to tell me this rumour or am I going to find out from Linda when she comes to clean up this evening?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you. I’m just not sure you’re going to like what you hear with this one.”

That made Arthur’s curiosity tingle. A rumour about him that he wouldn’t like? How interesting. Arthur had been the subject of many rumours during his time in the office, all of which were utterly ridiculous and contained no ounce of truth to them. The previous rumour that had involved Arthur claimed he were a vampire enslaved by his boss to carry out his orders. It was so absurd that he and Francis had cried laughing for hours to a point where Arthur was concerned that he would have to ring an ambulance.

However, this time, Francis appeared cautious. Had he already figured out the facts and concluded that Arthur would react negatively to such rumours floating around? It made Arthur’s thoughts race, sifting through his previous schedule for something out of the ordinary for such rumours to spark. Had he acted differently whilst on shift? Had someone caught him talking to himself? Surely not. Arthur’s one-way conversations were always contained to the privacy of his office or an empty elevator. The most that Arthur ever did whilst at work was go up and down in elevators for coffee breaks, answer the constantly ringing phone, book appointments and sift through thousands upon thousands of emails.

“I’m listening,” Arthur said as he finished making the drinks. Once again, he worked around Francis, returning everything to their rightful positions and throwing the spoon he had used into the sink to wash later. Once the coffee cup lids had been clicked into place, Arthur carefully gathered them into his hands. They were pleasantly warm, the reusable cups doing their job at holding in the heat so Arthur could carry them without fear of burning himself.

“Well,” Francis started as they left the break room together. “Gilbert told me, that Erzsébet told him, that she heard from Emma, that Michelle saw you down at that Italian place with the big boss last night.”

Arthur almost spat out the sip of tea he had taken. He spluttered as he struggled to swallow the hot liquid, glaring at Francis as he harshly pounded his back. When Arthur finally felt like he could breathe again, he jabbed an elbow into Francis’ side to stop him from hitting him again. He was cautiously aware of the way the boiling drinks his hands were sloshing around in their cups, waiting for the opportune moment to spill all over him.

Arthur out on a date? With their boss of all people? How ludicrous. Arthur desperately tried to prevent the heat rising to his cheeks, taking a steadying breath in an attempt to slow his quickening heart rate.

“How utterly ridiculous.”

“Were you?”

“Are you honestly asking me that?”

“You know as well as I that Michelle isn’t usually the type to start rumours.”

“Perhaps she’s turned over a new leaf.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Francis gave him a stern look that told Arthur he wouldn’t rest until his questions were answered. Looking down the hall ahead, Arthur saw the elevator and immediately his strides grew faster.

“Francis, I’m Alfred’s personal assistant. I am paid to follow him around, schedule his day and generally do as he asks. The only way I would voluntarily spend time with him outside of business hours were if the bloke were to pay me a hefty sum of money,” He explained, watching as Francis kindly pressed the elevator button for him.

“I had to ask!” Francis grinned, holding up the single hand that wasn’t holding his cup in innocence. The gentle ping of the elevator arriving on their floor sounded like music to Arthur’s ears, the doors opening slowly and revealing it to be empty. Arthur felt like he had been blessed. Drinks in hand, Arthur backed into the elevator and quirked a suspicious eyebrow at Francis who remained where he was.

“Of course you did. Oh, tell Gilbert, Erzsébet, Emma and Michelle to stop gossiping and get on with their work. Alfred doesn’t pay them to sit around and spread rumours about his assistant.”

“But gossiping is so fun!” Francis pouted, blue eyes watching as Arthur jabbed a finger into the elevator panel, signalling his exit. “It makes my day go faster. Plus, I’m not sure I believe you anyway. Your cheeks are red and you have your liar face on.”

“Goodbye Francis,” Arthur smirked, holding up one of the cups in a gesture of farewell as the doors began to close. He could see the way Francis narrowed his eyes at him, uncertain of the truth within the rumour.

As soon as the doors clinked closed and the elevator began to rise, Arthur let out a long sigh. What a morning it had been so far. The elevator took him up several floors uninterrupted. Arthur was thankful for the peace and quiet. When it arrived on the correct floor, the familiar ping sounded, and the doors opened slowly this time onto an extremely quiet floor of the building.

Arthur stepped out and made his way down the hallway ahead. Looking down at the carpet, he was surprised he hadn’t worn it out by the number of times he passed this way. He felt as if this route around the office was programmed into his brain.

Ever aware of the increasing warmth in his hands, Arthur passed by the door with his name etched into the silver plague and continued down the hall. At the very end stood a smart looking door, a golden plague shimmering on its front with the words ‘Alfred F Jones, CEO’ engraved into it.

Polite as ever, he stopped outside and tapped on the door with his elbow. When a quiet ‘come in’ came from inside, Arthur once again relied on his elbow to press down on the handle and open the door. It swung inwards into a large spacious room. The first thing that Arthur noticed was the view, one of the walls on the right made completely of floor to ceiling glass overlooking the bustling city below. On a clear day like today, it was easy to see off into the distance and spot the towering mountains littering the skyline.

“You took your time,” said a voice. Arthur rolled his eyes and closed the door with his foot, heading in the direction of the desk on the left of the room, situated opposite the breath-taking view.

The desk was long and neatly organised with all the essentials one would need to run a business smoothly. A fancy computer screen was angled on the desk as to not block the view and a neatly stapled booklet of paper that had once lay prominent on the desk was being shuffled into a brown file out of sight from wondering eyes. In front of the desk were two comfortable looking chairs, angled perfectly to face its centre and readily awaiting use when the next private meeting came around.

“I was harassed by a certain Frenchman,” Arthur replied, weaving around the chair, and handing one of the cups across the desk to its eagerly awaiting owner.

Alfred was slouched in the comforts of his desk chair. The collar of his dress shirt had been unbuttoned, his tied slackened to lay lazily against his chest and the jacket of his suit hung smartly across the back of his chair. He smiled as he leant forward and took the cup from Arthur, beautiful blue eyes seeming to sparkle at him from behind the silver frame of his glasses.

“Thanks,” he said before taking a long, clearly needed, gulp of his coffee. He hummed at the taste; eyeing Arthur as he set the cup onto a designated coaster. Arthur copied his movements, taking a quick drink of his still boiling hot tea before placing the cup on the other unoccupied coast beside Alfred’s. “What did he want?”

“To inform me of another delightful rumour.”

“Let me guess, you’re secretly a spy trying to infiltrate my company?” Alfred grinned, relaxing back into his chair with his hands resting behind his head. Arthur’s green eyes followed the way his shirt pulled taught, begging to be untucked from his waistband.

“Oh, I’m most definitely a spy,” Arthur smirked playfully, walking around the desk.

“I knew it!” Alfred laughed, pushing his chair back away from the desk and opening his arms in Arthur’s direction. The Brit took the invitation with no hesitation, walking straight to Alfred and perching comfortably in his lap. The CEO hoisted Arthur up, throwing his legs over the arms of the chair on one side. With one arm comfortably secured around Arthur’s back and the other settled across his waist, Alfred’s hands clasped together to engulf Arthur in his warm embrace.

“Apparently I was spotted down at Vargas’ place on a date with the big boss last night.”

“Oh, really?”

“Uh-hm.”

“And what did you say?” Alfred mumbled as he pressed his nose into the crook of Arthur’s neck. Arthur’s eyes instinctually fluttered closed as he felt Alfred’s lips caress his skin, trailing sweet kisses from the crook of his neck to the base of his ear.

“I said that the boss would have to pay me quite the sum of money if he wanted me to spend time with him outside of work.”

“How much we talking?”

Arthur turned his head to face Alfred when he pulled away. Their faces were mere inches apart, Alfred’s breath dancing across his skin. Alfred had his eyebrow quirked as if genuinely curious.

“Thousands, perhaps even millions.”

“Ah, well, I’ll gladly pay you millions in kisses,” Alfred whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Arthur’s lips. Arthur found his arms reaching up to entangle themselves around Alfred’s neck, pulling him closer when the other tried to pull away. Arthur grumbled an incoherent grunt that sounded somewhere along the lines of ‘not yet’ before dragging Alfred back in for another, much longer kiss. Alfred’s arms held him tight, his hand coming to rest on Arthur’s hip and rub tingling circles through the fabric of his clothes.

“This is why you’re the centre of all these rumours,” Alfred whispered between kisses until Arthur was satisfied and pulled back.

“Shut up,” He huffed, turning his head so Alfred was left once again kissing the side of his head. “It’s not my fault. You’re just as clinging – if not more so when we are at work!”

“Hey, I’m the boss I can do what I like.”

“I know, that’s why you’re never the one covering off these bloody rumours.”

“Who started it?”

“Michelle apparently, although I’m not sure I believe that,” Arthur explained, looking over to the windows and admiring the view. Would Michelle really waste her time ensuring a rumour about him made its way around the office?

“Why not? She looks like the gossiping type.”

“I’m pretty sure Francis is onto us. In fact, I don’t believe there is a rumour at all. I think Francis just needed an excuse to ask me himself without doing so directly.”

Alfred laughed at that, nuzzling his nose affectionately against Arthur’s hair until he turned back around.

“Sounds like a Francis thing to do. To be honest, I did think I saw him last night.”

“What?!” Arthur’s eyebrows immediately fell into a default scowl, searching Alfred’s eyes for signs that he was lying. If Francis really had been there at the Vargas restaurant, then he knew for certain that everything Arthur had told him downstairs was a lie. Was he waiting for Arthur to come clean and tell him the truth personally?

“Hey, it was for a brief second! I just saw a flash of blond hair from behind a plant – it could have been anyone! Wait - where are you going?”

Before Alfred could even finish his sentence, Arthur was out the door. It took him a record amount of time to bypass the elevator, race down the stairs and hunt down Francis. Arthur had known him for long enough. He knew his games – he knew their games. On many occasions in their youth Arthur had been the one undercover, hiding behind the plant and spying on Francis to ensure his date was going well.

Sure enough, Francis was in his office. He was sat casually at his desk, a light glow cast across his features from the computer screen in front of him. Sat prominently on his desk was the same obnoxious cup from earlier. He seemed startled by Arthur’s sudden intrusion, locking his computer quickly.

Arthur said nothing, watching Francis squirm under his gaze as the office door clicked locked behind him.

“YOU SNEAKY, RUMOUR STARTING, NOSY TWAT!”

#Hetalia #APH #usuk #Fanfiction #APH Fanfiction #My Writing #APH America #APH England #APH France #Alfred F Jones #Arthur Kirkland #I hope yall enjoy reading it #am i nervous about this yes yes i am

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sailorgreywolf-legacy · 4 years

Note

Francis and Ale “How did you get these bruises? Please don’t lie to me.”

The sun was setting on the day as France looked out from one of the many comfortable spots on the veranda. He as sitting on a daybed tucked against one of the walls. It was a soft spot, and he found himself very impressed with Mexico’s taste in comfortable furniture.

It would have been difficult to find a space to rest in this palace that was not comfortable. The palace was full of places to sit. He assumed it was because of Mexico’s propensity to sleep in the middle of the day.

Either way, it was a comfort after such a long journey from Paris. It was exhausting to go back and forth from Europe.

He wouldn’t usually make such a long trip as often as he did, but he enjoyed seeing Mexico. More and more lately, he missed Mexico in the time between his visits.

Every time Porfirio extended the invitation to him, he took it. It was his choice to see Mexico as often as possible, even if it made him tired.

He had a bottle of wine, a fine vintage, and he poured himself a glass. Mexico also kept a good wine cellar, though it had seemed like it was more empty than usual. He wasn’t going to question it, but it had also not escaped his notice.

He looked out over the city as the sun set. This was a beautiful vista, nearly as beautiful as the man who represented it.

As the thought crossed his mind, Mexico appeared in his peripheral vision. He was still handsome, but he looked like something was draining the life from him.

During the Second Empire he had been so full of life and vitality. It was such a stark change. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a few healing marks on his neck.

France could see the outlines of the dark, possessive bruises, even if they had faded in the middle. They looked to him like marks from a mauling. He knew who was responsible, and that Mexico usually dodged talking about the perpetrator when they were together.

Mexico said, “I assume you would like my company.”

France nodded, and opened his arms invitingly. Mexico was the only reason he was here, and he wanted to be able to hold him.

Certainly he was not visiting for Porfirio, or the ridiculous goal of teaching Mexico culture. The young man didn’t need that at all. He could be very cultured when he chose to be, and France did not need to help him.

What Mexico did need was someone to listen to him, and France knew he could provide that.

Mexico flashed him a flirtatious smile and immediately sat between his legs and leaned back against him. He was sitting with his back flush against France’s chest.

He ran one hand playfully up France’s thigh and said, “What a comfortable little spot you’ve chosen. It’s very intimate.”

He rolled the word off of his tongue seductively, and France had to admit he was tempted by their closeness, and the touch on his leg. He had always found Mexico alluring, and that hadn’t changed.

But at the moment, he didn’t quite want that yet. He wanted to hold the exhausted looking young man and watch the sunset with him.

He responded, “I like the view from here.”

He looked out at the city, and then at Mexico. The young man’s shirt was open except for the bottom two, and France could see a couple of dark patches across his skin.

He hoped they were just shadows from the shirt and the dying light.

Mexico gave him a smirk and said, “You aren’t a bad view either.”

Then he eagerly pressed his lips against France’s. His touch was needy, like he felt it was clear what he wanted and there was no use in pretense. France kissed him back, letting their lips mold together. He put his free hand on Mexico’s cheek and cradled the young man’s face tenderly.

He hoped that Mexico could feel that his touch was more than lust and more than need.

When they parted, Mexico licked his lips and said, “You’re already had wine.”

France continued to hold him as he said, “I did. I opened a bottle. I should have gotten you a glass as well. I will do that if you will get off of me.”

He felt Mexico lean back into him, putting more of his weight on him. He said, with a coy look, “No, stay here. I don’t want you to go anywhere. It’s not a problem.”

With that, he picked up the bottle of wine in one smooth motion. He put the bottle to his lips and took a long drink.

France was slightly shocked at how easily he seemed to down it. He said, “Hold on a moment. Actually taste it.”

Mexico put down the bottle and turned to him, and cuddled closer. He said, “It all tastes the same if you drink enough.”

He then tried his best to smirk charmingly and added, “But we won’t be able to enjoy our night if I have too much, so I will stop.”

He put his hand back on France’s thigh, being utterly unsubtle in his desires. France looked down at his hand, and noticed the dark marks around his wrists.

Those were not so easy to dismiss as anything else. He could see each of the fingers clearly. France felt his heart sink at such a clear mark.

He said, “There is less wine than there was last time I was here. Have you been drinking more?”

Mexico shrugged like it was an uninteresting topic. He answered only once France turned his gaze onto him somewhat sternly.

He said, “I have had a few more glasses every night. It dulls the world.”

France moved his hand to Mexico’s hair and stroked it lovingly. He knew that Mexico was trying to sound nonchalant, but his words betrayed pain. If he was drinking that much, he must be hurt.

Mexico was brilliant and witty and clever, and it was tragic to him that anyone would blunt that with too much wine.

France asked softly, “Is it because of him?”

Mexico shrugged again, somewhat lest convincingly this time. He seemed to want to avoid the subject, like he always did. France usually wouldn’t pressure him, but he needed an answer to all of the bruises.

Mexico answered, his voice tense, “You know it is.”

They had never discussed it, but France was well aware of America’s controlling influence. He knew that it was part of the reason Mexico had chosen their affair, because he craved something that was his own choice.

But, he had never noticed so many bruises before, and he felt like he needed some answer about them. He ran one finger lightly over the bruises on Mexico’s wrist and asked, “And are these because of him too?”

Mexico recoiled, pulling his hand back into his own lap.

He sighed, and France got the distinct sense that he was ruining the moment. But, he wanted Mexico to know that he cared about him beyond their time in the bedroom.

Mexico responded tersely, “Do we have to talk about this? You just got here, and I want to be with you.”

France knew he was pushing Mexico to an uncomfortable subject, but he felt like it would be callous to ignore it. He said, “How did you get these bruises? Please don’t lie to me.”

Mexico moved uncomfortably against him. The question was making him squirm. But, he answered anyway, “Alfred is too strong and he grabs me too hard when we’re together. I bruise easily.”

France felt like he was being lied too, because he could not imagine that anyone would be so careless. He was also certain that Mexico did not bruise easily, or take so long to heal. He felt certain that America was doing it on purpose, because no one would stop him.

He prodded, trying to get the truth out of Mexico, “Is that really all it is?”

Mexico sighed again and said, “He isn’t doing it intentionally. Alfred just doesn't care if he hurts me.”

France wished he could do anything to alleviate the sound of pain in Mexico’s voice. He wasn’t sure what to say back. Instead, he stroked Mexico’s hair in a way that might convey some love.

Mexico turned himself completely around so that he was face to face with France. He said, “Can we not talk about him? He's all I hear about from anyone all day. It’s always about what Alfred wants and how to keep Alfred happy. For once, can we pretend that there is no Alfred. There’s just you and me, and this.”

He took France’s face between his hands and pressed their lips together hard. His own parted like they were willing France to kiss him more deeply.

France could never resist temptation when Mexico offered it. He slipped his tongue between Mexico’s lips. It was such a familiar feeling between them.

He heard Mexico let out a breath like a satisfied sigh at returning to something he understood. France’s hands found Mexico's hips and pulled him into his lap.

Mexico broke the kiss and said, slightly breathless, “Isn’t this better? You don't have to fret over me like you love me.”

The words were a shock. France said, trying to correct the flippant comment, “But I do love you.”

Mexico met his eyes and shook his head. He said, “Don’t tell me lover’s lies, Francis. You don't need them. I’m already yours.”

There was something profoundly empty behind his eyes when he said it. Like he didn't believe it possible that France could be sincere in his conviction. But he was painfully sincere. So sincere that the dark marks on Mexico’s skin hurt his heart.

He could only contemplate the emptiness behind the charm for a moment, because Mexico kissed him again.

He could feel desperation in the touch, like a man begging for the simplicity of something carnal. France was weak for Mexico and he knew it.

It was easy to lose himself in the tactile feeling of their embrace. He loved the way Mexico felt, and the smell of cactus flowers that clung to his hair. He loved the taste of Mexico’s silver tongue against his own.

The friction of the young man’s hips on his own was making his mind hazy. It would be easier, even blissful, to let the conversation end there. He knew how it would feel to let it go and let Mexico do as he wanted.

But, his heart said that he had to make one more effort.

He pulled back from the kiss, which earned him an unhappy whine from Mexico. He said, meeting Mexico’s eyes, “Alejandro, mon cher, I want to help you.”

He could hear how desperate his own voice sounded. He could not find the right words to say that he worried about him all the time when he didn’t hear from him. He wanted to say that it wasn’t about the sex. He wouldn’t spend the time to visit so often if he was only driven by his libido.

But, Mexico looked at him with a kind of empty amusement. He replied, “This does help me. This helps me forget.”

Even through the fog of his own desires, France felt a twinge of pity. If this intimacy was what helped, then he was willing to indulge it. It would satisfy his own lust.

He felt like nothing could be gained from the conversation, since Mexico was pushing him away. Even if he tried, this was not the moment.

Mexico shifted against his lap, effectively derailing France’s train of though in favor of more immediate pleasure.

Mexico said, in a voice that was husky and irresistible, “Please, Francis. Let me forget.”

His lusty, inviting look was too difficult to turn down. France took Mexico’s face in his hands and pulled him into another deep kiss. Even as he gave into the baser desire, the thoughts echoed in his head.

I love you. Please know that I love you.

#aph mexico #aph france #framex

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aziraphalesrarebooks · 5 years

Text

Accidental Summoning

A tired and hungry Warlock Dowling accidently summons his old childhood Nanny by way of a bologna sandwich.

He was exhausted, it was fall but the heat was still present at his university making the already long days seem longer.

He’d been studying for a big exam in one of his history courses nearly the entire day and couldn’t be bothered to eat or drink anything that wasn’t coffee.

He opened the fridge and pulled out mustard, American cheese, and bologna. He was too tired to cook but this would do for the night; not to mention that he didn’t have much else to prepare.

He got out a paper plate and two slices of white bread. Cheese down, then bologna, then, he got an idea. He hadn’t thought of his Nanny in ages. Her snake tattoo had been a source of comfort for him as a child and thinking of it made him smile.

He always thought of her when he was anxious, he’d loved her dearly and had been heartbroken to see her leave.

He shook his bottle of mustard and drew the familiar mark on his sandwich, then circled it once so he’d have mustard on the edges too.

He placed the other piece of bread on top and reached into the fridge for some milk.

He froze when he turned around.

A man was leaning against his counter.

A very well-dressed man.

A very well-dressed man with familiar flaming red hair and sunglasses.

“Nanny?” He stuttered.

He smirked.

“Uhh… Sandwich then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Chips?”

“Mhm.”

The demon takes a bite, takes the glass of milk from his hand and vanishes.

The next day, he takes his test as usual but when he arrives back to his apartment, the glass is sitting on the counter and his fridge is completely full; albeit, full of foods he liked to eat when he was a kid but full nonetheless. There is also a suspiciously tartan throw now resting on his much nicer sofa with a stack of books sitting on a coffee table that definitely hadn’t been there that morning.

It’s almost a year later when he sees Nanny again. He’d been cooking lasagna for a date that had stood him up. He has a ton of food and even a dessert he’d hoped to share for later .

Warlock is old enough now to drink and opens what he considers a fairly good bottle of wine; granted he mostly drinks two-buck chuck from the local TJs.

He sits down at his worn kitchen table and absentmindedly doodles with his finger as he waits for the timer and sips his wine.

He truly doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until there is a clearing of a throat across from him.

He has the decency to not to scream but does spill a bit of his wine out of the glass when he realizes he’s not alone.

Nanny laughs and pours himself a glass.

“Uh… Hi again. It’s ah, I made lasagna.”

“Sounds good.”

“So… um, how’ve you been?”

“Not bad, living in South Downs now with the Angel. He says Hello by the way.”

“He’s more than welcome to a slice when it comes out of the oven. I er… I’d been expecting company, but they decided to cancel at the last minute. I even have some moose chilling in the fridge.”

“He’d like that.” As suddenly as he was there, he was gone.

The timer goes off and he takes the steaming dish out of his oven before pulling out an extra plate. There’s a knock at his door and he goes to answer, standing in the hall is Nanny and who is fairly sure is a better-looking Brother Francis.

“Uh, hi again. Come in?”

“Of course, Master Warlock! Thank you so much for inviting us!” Warlock then realizes he has two bottles of very expensive wine in his arms and Nanny is carrying what looks to be some sort of baguette.

After his second glass of wine, tongues are loosened, and they are reminiscing about his frankly odd childhood.

“I can’t believe you both thought I was the Antichrist!” he’s laughing at both the absurdity and the fact it explains so much of his strange childhood.

“Honest mistake! Was the nun's fault anyway,” he mumbles.

“Yes, my dear but it worked out all right in the end. One day you simply must meet Adam, he’s a charming young fellow.”

“Meet the Antichrist, that might not be too bad.” He says, he’s on his fourth glass and is so sleepy he can hardly keep upright in his spot on the couch. “I never said thank you, for the uh, couch and stuff.”

“It was a good sandwich and you really needed an upgrade. That old couch was evil, it was sent back to hell where it belonged.”

“It wasn’t that bad.” He pouted.

Crowley replied with a pointed look.

He fell asleep at some point in the night, likely finally reaching his alcohol limited and passing out.

When he wakes up the next morning, it is blissfully without a hangover. He muddles into his kitchen to make a pot of coffee when he stops, dead in his tracks.

His kitchen table is new, as is his fridge and stove. There is a shiny new instant pot sitting on the counter and the pot of coffee is already made.

He pours himself a cup and opens his fridge to find it has once again been filled, this time with his weight in cheese, wine, and sweets. He laughs, shakes his head and grabs the creamer from the door.

On the oak table is a note:

Enjoyed last night,

We should do it again sometime.

Crowley and Aziraphale

PS: Aziraphale says to make

your mother’s delightful fish

stew the next time.

And so, begins a tradition, Warlock cooks or sometimes he just buys pizza and either Nanny comes for a visit or both. Other times, especially the days where he is stressed beyond belief, Nanny will show up and take him to dinner or Aziraphale will stop by with a venti white mocha extra whip just for him.

It’s weird having them back in his life but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

When he decides to go to grad school two years after graduating from his undergraduate program, he picks a school in England. It’s more his home than this is, and he’d be closer to the bookshop Aziraphale owns but he’s yet to be able to visit.

He miraculously finds a flat that is in his price range near the shops and takes to working there part-time, if one can even call it that.

He never sells a single book; a feat Aziraphale is most proud of.

When he graduates with his graduate degree in library science and history, Aziraphale and Crowley both attend the ceremony, clapping proudly as he walks across the stage when his own parents don’t attend.

They take him to the Ritz for dinner in celebration and when they toast, he can’t help but thank that bologna sandwich and sleep deprivation for giving him back the family he’d so desperately missed.

#Accidental Demon Summoning #Good Omens #Aziraphale #Crowley #Warlock Dowling #Crowley is proud of his little snake #Warlock is totally their son #I don't make the rules #Good Omens Fic #Ineffable Husbands

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ferylcheryl · 4 years

Text

Crozier’s decanter is empty. He rings for Jopson, whom he knows will appear almost immediately, almost as though he’d nothing to do but wait in the dark for a summons. Impeccable but for the one disobedient lock of dark hair he must constantly smooth back, he won’t mind if the captain’s gaze lingers longer than it ought on his trim form, his pale eyes. He does not deserve Jopson but he has him: two truths which both of them tacitly acknowledge.

Indeed, Jopson appears right away, bearing the bottle in one hand and a clean glass in the other. The familiarity—the presumption—should rankle him, but he’s grown used to it. Besides, how could he be angry? Look at Jopson’s face all gold and pink in the amber light, the subtle fullness of his lips. His eyes are bright, watchful. Were he a younger man, Crozier would hate in Jopson all he himself lacked: charisma, neatness, inscrutability—to say nothing of the beauty and shapeliness of him, luminous and trimly joisted where Francis, even in his youth, seemed to be rigged of spare parts, an ill-proportioned thing. Jopson sets the bottle and glass down, pours, and then busies himself about the great cabin with his rag. Francis’ gaze is lecherous, unflinching. A thing of beauty is a joy for ever. A stray line, in his haze he cannot quite recall... it is the time of evening, and he is far enough into his cups, that his head swims; his limbs seem to bob in space. He feels himself filling, sluggishly thickening, in his breeches—does nothing to conceal it. Jopson glances over his shoulder, meets his leer with a soft, angelic smile.

A bit of Cropson for your Sunday morning?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27003670

#the terror fan fic #thomas jopson #francis crozier #Cropson

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manbehindtheshadows · 4 years

Text

Humiliation

“Oh Einy!~” Miror B. called out, making sure that he had his full attention. He grinned ear to ear, holding up a hand a moment before gesturing his thumb downward. “See you at the bottom, dah'ling! Fuhohohoho!”

Ein was more than ready to make another lunge at the Arceus forsaken Cipher Admin before Nascour predetermined what he was about to do, clutching onto the head scientist's shoulder.

“Don’t.”

Immediately Ein’s shoulder violently jerked forward, twisting his body to where he was facing his superior, mere inches from his face. “Put your hands on me again, and I’ll be making sure you wind up like your precious Miror.” Ein seethed through a display of slightly bloodied teeth.

“Oh, Ein... “ A sly grin curled onto Nascours lips, “After all that has transpired, you’re still under the delusion that you’re untouchable in this scenario.”

“Do you really think you can pin this all on me, Nascour?” Ein snarled, “You, who hired some inexperienced Pyrite lowlife to take over the city?”

“And you, who set him up with an insufficient Shadow Pokemon?” Nascour sneered with a sweet yet sickening grin on his face, “Had I known better, I would have said you were the one who set us up for failure, Ein. Not Miror.”

“I gave him a shadow pokemon that reflected the trainer, Nascour.” Ein interjected, “Besides, I didn’t catch you objecting to what I gave him, either.”

Nascour shook his head,"You are so persistent in undermining your fellow admins, aren't you?"

"Had you and Evice not forced my hands in surrendering the other legendaries to the other admins, who had no idea how to handle the beasts--" Ein glared daggers at the Chief Admin,"--we wouldn't be having this conversation right now! I did everything you two instructed, despite my objections, despite the fact you lot know nothing about Shadow Pokemon, and look where we are now!" Nascour tilted his head, "Are you still questioning my abilities as a leader, Ein?"

Eins lips curled to a sneer, "Can't say-- haven't seen them yet."

Before Nascour could interject to Eins' shrewd insult, the lift door opened once more. Eins body went tense when he saw the pudgy Head of Cipher storm from the bloodied lift.

"Ah, uncle- perfect timing!" Nascour clasped his hands together, "We were just discussing--"

"Cut the nonsense, boy!" Nascour shuddered as Evices voice cracked like a whip, "Would anyone care to explain why my ten million pokedollar lift looks like it went through a butcher's shop on Grand Opening Day?" Red pupils shrunk when he followed the trail of bloody footprints leading to a luxury seat just lathered in blood. "And what the hell happened here?!"

Nascour cocked his head towards Ein, voice sickeningly sweet. "Why not ask the one who started the mess?"

"I’m sure he would love to, but you already dismissed him, Master Nascour.” Ein spat in his defense, articulating his mocking tone when addressing Nascour as ‘Master.’

“Last you told me, Steins didn’t act like fools, Ein.” Evice interjected between Ein and his nephews bickering, eyes zeroed in on the scientist. “Now then… We are short thirty-three Shadow Pokemon, and all of our data on Shadow Pokemon since your joining has now been deleted.” Malicious eyes threatened to stab the Chief scientist with that glare, “So I am absolutely looking forward to watching you explain yourself out of this one, Professor Stein.”

“Simple.” Ein responded matter-of-factly. “Insufficient trainers-- and even more insufficient admins given Pokemon way out of their leagues. Given to them because of direct orders that forced my hand- direct orders from you, might I add.” Ein braced himself for an brutal altercation-- Evice was never one to admit fault despite it being clear as rain when he was. But Ein refused to take the blame for this. “As I was just discussing with Nascour, had I held all three legendaries in my possession, as I had argued in the past--”

“That’s Master Nascour, Professor Stein--” Evice curtly corrected the young Cipher Admin, “Do not forget your place here.”

Eins fingers clutched as his eyes flicked to spot a sly grin on Nascours face. “Well then, as I have told Master Nascour, plenty of times: Anyone who needs to remind those around him that he is the master, is no true master.”

A sudden silence took over the room, yet the tension was stronger than ever. “... That’s quite the skill you have there, boy.” Evice slowly approached Ein, rage hardly contained from the admins lack of cooperation, “You move your lips, yet Old Frankensteins words come pouring out of your mouth.” Without warning, Evice snatched Ein by the lapels of his coat, violently jerking the taller man down to his level, “However, if you think I would let you insult your grandfathers legacy by letting you think you are even close to reaching his level of brilliance, I am afraid you are horribly, horribly mistaken.” Evices eyes flicked to one of the windows, cocking his head, “I’m more than certain Francis would’ve thrown you out through that damn window if he was alive to see you undo all his work.”

Ein shuddered as he struggled to keep a blank face, fighting the urge to clamp his hands around the bastards throat.

Evice, with a faint sinister grin, shook his head disapprovingly, “I suppose Francis was right about you…”

“Unhand me.” Eins' voice was apathetic, yet menacing. Rage boiled over, but unlike Miror B., he could do absolutely nothing. And he absolutely hated it. “Right. Now.”

“Prove me wrong, boy.” Evice released his grip, wrist smacking Ein in the chest. “Get rid of the problem child and I might reconsider you worthy of the Shadow Pokemon Project. We’ll finish this discussion later.”

Eyes not leaving Evice, Ein stormed back towards the lift, slamming his fist onto the buttons opening the door.

“Just because you deleted all of the data, don’t think you’ve won yet--” Evice called from the other end of the lounge, a psychotic grin taking over his face “-- Low life!”

Eins fist slammed into the marble walls of the lift the moment the doors closed, pulling back as the stinging sensation shot through his knuckles. His back fell against the glass doors, sliding downwards until he was seating on the floor, legs out. Composing himself back into apathy, Ein slicked his stray strands of dark hair back, only to fall right back into place, not noticing the would be blinding energy from his belt.

His Manectric emerged, seated next to him, whining as he licked his face. Ein glanced down, inspecting the bloodied mess he made when tearing the leech seeds from his legs. Ein glanced away, saying nothing, yet his hand stroked the canines lower jaw-- just enough to let him know he did well earlier.

… He needed to find that lab. Now.

#drabble #Ein has had one hell of a day

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thisbitchinthecorner · 4 years

Text

2013 (roughly 6 years before the End of the World)

This is basically as set up for the second part of this chapter. For @drawlight

Cookies Prompt!

Part 1:

On a lavish and sprawling official London residence, a boy of about 5 sits beside his attentive Nanny. This small boy has known several nannies in the past, but none have been like this one; he enjoys her songs and stories, he finds comfort in her arms and even once, he swore she had eyes that glowed in the dark. When Nanny was around, he felt warm and loved. When Nanny was around, he felt special.

“Nanny,” Young Warlock began. “Mama says we’re going to spend a few days at our house in the country. She says her and Daddy have in-por-tent stuff to do while we are there, so I’ll get to be with you.”

“Isn’t that nice dear. A proper Holiday.”

“Since we will be in the country, can we go for a picnic? My last Nanny used to have picnics with me on the lawn, but that was a long time ago.”

The demon nearly lurched forward out of her chair. “Of course we can, my darling. But you know who would really enjoy coming along?”

“Who Nanny? Who?”

“Brother Francis. Why, I’m sure the garden at the country estate needs tending, and if you asked, I’m certain your mother would agree.” Nanny brushed back a strand of hair from the little boy’s eyes. “Come now, let us prepare for our adventure.”

The manner staff included a chef, several assistants to both Mr. and Mrs. Downing, a formal butler, three housekeepers, a multitude of Secret Service agents and one gardener. While it would seem that a recently hired Nanny would be outranked by all save for one, most of the help lived in fear of her. In all fairness, Nanny was an imposing figure; standing nearly 6’3” with her old fashioned lace up boots, a swathe of thick, red hair pinned back just so and an eye condition that required her to wear dark glasses at all points in time. Even Mr. Downing, on the rare occasions he was at home, found himself tip toeing around his son’s new nanny. So when it came time to assemble the entourage of Secret Service agents and house staff to travel to Pembrokeshire, Nanny was the one who gave the orders and assignments.

The car ride was long, the multitude of official government vehicles seemed ridiculous, yet the slew of violence towards Americans abroad had steadily increased over the years. Nanny did not like being a passenger in a car she was not operating. To make matters worse, young Warlock did not travel well, and spent the majority of the trip with his head in her lap. When they finally arrived, the countryside was different from how he remembered it. A shudder ran through him, as he recalled the last time he was in Wales.

“Come on Nanny! Let’s get ready to go on our picnic!” Warlock pleaded.

“We’ve only just arrived, my dear. Tomorrow will be a better day, I promise.” Nanny soothed. “In the meantime, why don’t we find some little treats we can bring with us.”

“We can ask Chef Claude to make some cookies with pink icing! Those are my favorite.”

“Cookies?” The demon asked. “Don’t you mean biscuits?”

“Nanny, Mama says that we should do as the Americans do, and they call them cookies!” Warlock sighed with exaggeration. “Do you think Chef Claude will make them?”

“He’d better, if he knows what’s good for him. We should ask him to prepare a full lunch also, oysters, French bread with brioche, savory stuffed crepes, figs and almonds, grapes and cranberries, and of course, your cookies.” Nanny listed. Such a fine lunch for Aziraphale.

“Nanny, I’m so excited.” The boy jumped up and down with glee.

“Let me tell you a little secret, I’m excited too. I’ve never been on a picnic before, this will be my first.” Nanny replied.

“And you get to spend it with me and Brother Francis! I hope he’s excited too.”

“Of course he is! I think he’s been waiting a very long time for this too, so it will be extra special.” She purred. “Now, my dark prince, time for you to get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Nanny?” Warlock said with wide eyes. “Can you sing me a lullaby?”

“Of course darling.” She sang for the boy, while her voice was a great deal more raspy and harsh than it had been long, long ago, the boy did not seem to mind. For the first time since those days, she actually enjoyed singing.

Morning came, and the sunlight poured though the open windows, welcoming the new day. Warlock leapt from his bed and ran out into the parlor. He looked around for Nanny, and finally spied her outside, talking to Brother Francis in the garden.

Warlock watched them with fascination; there was something so comforting about Brother Francis’s presence, he made the boy feel safe in an unsafe world. The funny little man seemed to be brimming with love, and Warlock greatly enjoyed their time together.

“There you are Young Master Warlock! Seems today is a fine day for our little picnic!” Brother Francis grinned as he patted the boy on his head.

“What’s this now? Still in your pajamas?” Nanny fretted.

“Want to see a little magic trick?” Brother Francis asked.

“I sure do! But Nanny says your magic tricks are rubbish and beneath you!” Warlock laughed as Nanny crossed her arms.

“Well now! Close your eyes and turn around three times. You can count to three, right?” Brother Francis asked with a wink.

The boy did as he was told, and a minor miracle was performed.

“Look Nanny! No more pajamas! You’re amazing Brother Francis!” Warlock cried as he flung his arms around the robust gardener. “Can I carry the basket? Please! I won’t drop it, not even once.”

“Of course, my dear.” Nanny hands the basket to the boy, seemingly weightless despite the multitude of items stored inside.

The trio set off, the boy ran ahead, scouting the perfect spot to settle down, reveling in the sunshine as he acted out the fantasies in his mind. The angel and demon strolled together, side by side as they conversed, relaxed and happy on such a perfect day in the countryside.

Perfect, just like you, my angel.

......

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #justenoughofabastardtobeworthknowing

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