#i need to just pony up and get more pillows to line the sides with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreamwritesimagines · 1 year

Note

It’s CMA, taking notes as always:)-

Sorry in advance this is so fucking long. I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to send this all in one ask but we will see lol. This is actually more than I write for some essays. Like you’re going to have to click expand and be like holy shit. Anyway feel free to ignore my rambling shitty literary analysis at the end lolololol.

At least she can recognize that she’s being a hypocrite when it comes to being horny for Ben lmfao

(side note but I love that you write characters with believable flaws that make them more endearing and not less. And that they try to be better but they’re not perfect; that’s so real and I think that it’s a really hard line to walk and most people can’t/don’t. Anyway it’s being in awe of dreams writing hours again, which is all day every day)

The asking an annoying question and then immediately getting mad at herself internally- that’s such a mood lmfao

SHE SAID THAT THEYRE GOING TO STILL BE TOGETHER IN THE AFTERLIFE AODKNSNFBF I know it was a joke but also OMG CLOVER could you be any more obvious/oblivious!???!??!!

Also her complimenting him so heavily and it not being because she wants to kiss his ass but being genuine, and her not thinking that that says anything about her and her character wowkkfnfjrhthhf

Wait if he goes to Italy for the art academy, will she go with him? What about teddy??? I mean hopefully they’re over their codependent-ness by then, esp. since he has Josie and is learning to live with their aunt and uncle and everything, but still!!! Maybe Colin will take him to visit them…. All assuming he does go to the academy Ofc

Okay but does Josie know flowers and/or was she just fucking with clover? Anyway that’s also so relatable cuz I can’t draw for shit either lol

OH MY GOD DID HER PARENTS BREAK HER WRIST?!????!!!??!!!?!!!?!! THATS SO FUCKED UP!!!!!!!! (I mean I know we know that they were bad, but still getting the details makes me want to strangle them. I’m so nervous for when they come to town because I will want to strangle them every single moment of it lol; I already do!)

SHES TOO HORNY TO FOCUS!!!!! Lmfaoooo love that for her

He’s so cute telling her that she’s great at art even though he helped her!! He’s so sweet and I love that he wasn’t willing to let her think badly of herself for one second before doing everything in his power to prove him wrong

THE SEXUAL TENSION IS KILLING ME!!!!!!!!!! (And them too by the looks of it Lmfao)

LMFAO I vaguely remember us talking about Percy buying Anthony and Cherie’s kids ponies in a headcanon for enamored. I love that that trend is popping up again haha

THERES ONLY ONE BED TROPE MY BELOVED (or in this case: there’s actually two beds but they’re CHOOSING to share a bed, which is arguably even better) cuddling/sharing a bed to keep the nightmares away my beloved

Also they’re going from her locking the door on him to sharing a bed AHHHHH I’m so excited for them!!!!

PILLOW WALL MY BELOVED (okay I need to stop calling every single trope my beloved. It’s true but I don’t need to say it. I need a new word lmfao)

Am I sensing some foreshadowing where her heart is going to break and she feels like she’s dying, similar to what happened to cherie??? I hope not, she’s been through enough angst already. Though it would probably be something like he goes to a party to paint and she assumes the worst- the whole acting like she’s being retraumatized all over again even when she’s not.

“When are you free” “whenever you want me too” AIFJNFNDJFNFNDNFB it’s like he’s saying that he’s always free to do things for her and hang out with her and do whatever she needs.

This fic is killing me with the one million ways to say I love you without saying it and I fucking love it so much!!!!!!!!!!! It’s the words of affirmation and the acts of service and gifts and time spent together and listening and every single little thing they do for one another!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUGH I love them SO much!!!!!!!!!!!!!

They way that he gives her complete control and isn’t condescending about it but genuinely wants her input and for her to decide what’s best. For her to choose what will make her comfortable and not force her to do anything. It’s the way that he suggests things as being optional where she can turn it down or choose how it’s done, and let’s her make her own choices and take control of what happens to her. I don’t know if I’m articulating myself properly but it just gets me so fucking soft and I love it SO much.

It’s the way that he never wants to do something that so much as even makes her uncomfortable, and the way that he does everything in his power to take care of and nurture her. I swear to god I know I’m rambling but I can’t help it; I’m just so in love with them and this story.

I also love that he’s close with his mom, which is such a minor detail that we knew about all the bridgerton siblings, but still- it’s so cute!!

“As my lady wishes” DREAM ARE YOU TRYING TO FUCKING KILL ME BECAUSE CONGRATS ITS WORKING

At least she realizes how fucking domestic they sound- does he?

I love the contrast of this story with enamored. Cherie and Anthony were a huge roller coaster of emotions, not because of anything in particular but because cherie just happens to be a very dramatic person. It’s not that the highs and lows were fabricated, but more so that they were very abrupt and very dramatic.

On the other hand we have Ben and clover, who are not very dramatic at all. The tension comes from them not being dramatic actually- the pining, the slow-burn- whereas there wasn’t as much of a slow-burn in enamored- Anthony and cherie both gave in rather quickly and let themselves be swept away in it, whereas clover is very much hanging on and resisting.

This does say a lot about clover too though because I don’t think that she could handle the dramatic ups and downs of cherie and Anthony’s relationship, nor would she want to. Cherie had a single trauma that affected her entire life, but she still had a mother that loved and took care of her and raised her in a relatively normal manner. Clover on the other hand had a prolonged series of abuse with no reprieve, no safe space, and no safe adult.

The differences in their trauma literally shape who they become- cherie decides to believe in love against all logic because she thinks that love will prevent her from being traumatized again and because she had a parent who loved her, so she knows that that love exists, and clover decides to believe against trust and love at all costs because she can’t afford to be hurt again. She doesn’t see the world as being worth loving or trusting because she’s never received that sort of love; she’s only given it, which has resulted in nothing but pain for her, so she rejects the very idea of it.

Also cherie was reacting from what she knew- her parents’ and subsequently her trauma was a very sudden, very dramatic event. It was if you hurt me once, you’ve lost me forever, and her being taught that really shows in her relationship with Anthony. She shows the dramatic highs and lows, and how she clings on so tightly because it will all be taken away if one wrong move is made, and we see her react that way throughout the story.

Clover is also reacting to what she knows- she believes that people cannot be trusted, that there’s something inherently wrong with them, or with her, that renders her incapable of trusting them. She is also in a constant state of stress because of the nature of her trauma- it was prolonged and constant and she never knew when it was going to go down; she had absolutely no warning. Whereas cherie uses things like Anthony “cheating” as a sign that trauma is imminent, but otherwise functions well as long as that sign is not present, clover never has any sign of when the trauma will arrive; for all she knows, it’s already there and she acts as if it is.

Actually you see this reflected in Anthony too a bit because of the suddenness of his father’s death and the immediate burden it placed upon him especially, whereas Ben didn’t have that pressure and was able to learn to cope more freely and for longer, both of which shaped who they would eventually become, with Anthony being repressed and unable to properly process/handle his emotions and benedict embracing his feelings and being emotionally aware of himself.

You definitely see how they, despite being brothers with the same trauma, had two different trauma responses and how this affects their future relationships. Benedict is able to go slow and care for clover because he’s learned how to care for himself. He’s learned how to listen and embrace whatever she’s feeling without judgement because he does it everyday. Anthony on the other hand can’t go slow- he rushes into things without thinking because he’s terrified that if he waits for even a moment to think about what he’s feeling or going through, that he’ll be too late. It’s his whole thinking irrationally that he’s going to die young thing all over again; he doesn’t have time to embrace his emotions, he is just controlled by them.

This is why cherie and Anthony have such a chaotic relationship- they’re both assuming they’re going to be abandoned/abandon the other, and they treat their relationship that way. It’s very rushed with no control because they feel like they need to savor every moment they have together, and it results in complete and utter chaos- passion at the expense of reason.

On the other hand, Ben and clover also react to their own relationship the way they’ve been taught. She’s slow and cautious so that she can retreat at any moment and protect herself, and he’s slow because he’s not afraid of being abandoned or hurt; he lives and loves with very little regard to himself. He also recognizes that he could ruin everything by rushing in too quickly- he’s smart about it and thinking about each step rationally.

This is really ironic because Anthony is usually considered the stoic, emotionless, and logical brother whereas Ben is usually assumed to be controlled by his emotions, whereas it’s really Anthony who is controlled by his emotions because he lives in fear of them, but benedict is able to control his because he’s embraced them. It’s a really, really fascinating analysis about emotional health- not feeling things is deceptively and significantly worse than actually being able to sit with your emotions and live with them. Repressing emotions only gives the illusion of being in control, when it actually surrenders them and gives them the power to control you.

I really like Ben and clover (in case you couldn’t tell lolololol) because it shows two people who are choosing to be kind despite what the world has thrown at them. With Anthony and cherie, as much as I love them, it felt like a very slippery slope into passion with very little control. There’s something beautiful about Ben and clover choosing to be there for one another. Ben is choosing to be patient and wait for her and take care of her- it’s a very emotionally conscious sort of love, and clover is choosing to keep inching forward despite her fear.

That’s not to say that Anthony and cherie didn’t choose one another- they certainly did, but I’m not entirely convinced that either of them were the only ones for one another. I mean we even see this when clover could have chosen Pierre or someone else at any point and Anthony could’ve chosen sienna or anyone else. They chose one another when they had other options, but they still had other options, whereas I don’t see clover with any other options.

I know Ben has other options, so he’s still choosing clover but not every person in the ton would be patient and willing enough to sit with her to go at her own pace.

I also think it’s almost like gaining the trust of an animal, let’s say a dog. If you gain the trust of one that was raised in a loving home and loves people, then that’s great! That love is super special and deserves cherishing. But you didn’t work for it and it’s not particularly hard for any person in the world to earn the love of that dog if something happens to you.

But if you have a dog that’s been hurt before and doesn’t trust anyone, and you put in the love and patience without rushing it, then you and that dog have a bond for life. Then there is an inherent, earned sense of trust that is fragile at first but also the strongest that could be. That trust is special because not everyone could’ve earned that trust; there’s not the sense that it could’ve been given away at any given moment because it won’t be.

Of course this isn’t a perfect analogy and isn’t to say that there’s anything wrong with an instantly loving dog, just that they’re very different and there’s value in a relationship that takes hard work and is forged over a long period of time.

With Anthony and cherie, their relationship was a sprint. They both acted like any moment could be their last and every step matters. Clover and Ben’s relationship is a marathon- you don’t know how long it will take, but you know that even if you’re tired you can’t give up. Even if you stumble once, that’s not as important as if you keep going. One foot in front of the other, just keep going. When you reach the end of a marathon, in a lot of ways it feels much sweeter because it took longer and more willpower. Even though it hurts more, you end up accomplishing something far greater.

And don’t get me wrong, I love cherie and Anthony, as you very well know. It’s just that I have a soft spot for people who choose to be together. And people who choose to be shelters in storms for those who are hurting.

Okay this is an essay and I don’t even know if tumblr will let me send this all in one ask, and there’s so much more to say but my thumbs are tired and I need to eat LOL.

Sorry this is so long lol, I just get really excited (as you know lol) and I love love love literary analysis when it’s not being done for a class LOL.

Okay love u see u when u answer this in a day or so!!!

CMA MY LOVE!

Omg I’m so ready for this and I’m incredibly excited, I have been thinking of this ask the whole day! ❤️

So first of all, NEVER EVER apologize for this because you know how much I love long asks and analyses! 🥰 You’ve made my whole day with this! ❤️

I’m so gonna fangirl over you btw😍❤️❤️

She can totally recognize that she’s being a hypocrite when it comes to that YES 😂 And that will happen a lot❤️

Aw it is so wonderful to hear that! ❤️ I really try to pay attention to character flaws and make sure to include them and their influence over their behavior and such so it’s such good news for me! 😍 I think character flaws actually make the character more like…real and relatable 😁

Omg you noticed that detail aaaaaa! 😍 She jokes about being together in the afterlife and she doesn’t even realize what it means or how she is getting more comfortable with the idea of being with him 😏

She believes in him wholeheartedly and they will actually have a convo about that in the next chapter!

Oh he wants to get into the art academy in England love, not in Italy 😁 They were just talking about one of the artists that helped build the one in Italy ❤️ But I do think that if he went to the art academy in Italy, Clover would go with him too at least until the end of his time and training there ❤️ But like, they wouldn’t spend the rest of their lives in Italy for sure❤️

Josie has some idea about flowers but Clover is a terrible artist when it comes to drawing/painting lolll😂

The wrist thing… Oh we will learn about that wrist thing 😈

Listen, unresolved sexual tension and yearning will be such an ongoing theme in the following chapters and we will have so much fun with it! 😂

Benedict is always ready to encourage her no matter what she’s insecure about 🥰

The ponyyyy yes! ❤️ I couldn’t use it in the actual chapters of Enamored, so I had to use that one here, it is adorable! ❤️

THERE IS ONLY ONE BED TROPE IS SUCH A GOOD TROPE!😍

There will be much angst going on 😏

one million ways to say I love you without saying it THIS IS SUCH A GOOD WAY TO PUT IT OMG 😍

Exactly! Like, it is incredibly important to Benedict that Clover chooses what is comfortable for her and that she doesn’t feel like she is being forced to do anything she doesn’t want to do ❤️ Unlike many people and couples in the ton, their relationship is totally equal and he will try so hard to make sure Clover sees that ❤️

Benedict has such a good relationship with his whole family and I think soon enough Clover will get so close with his family as well! ❤️

Oh yeah, they sound more and more like a married couple 😂

It is so interesting that you bring this up darling because like, when I was planning this story that contrast was one of the very first things I thought of! ❤️ I try to explore something different in every fic, a different genre or trope or character development but in here one of the first things I decided on was the difference between dynamics❤️

Cherie being a very dramatic person actually set the tone of Enamored in a way, and Clover resisting the idea of love so vehemently and not even realizing the yearning it leads is going to set the tone in GoS ❤️

Oh you’re absolutely right, Clover couldn’t handle the dramatic ups and downs of Cherie and Anthony’s relationship, it would mess her up so badly 💔 In order for her character development to happen, she needs a safe harbor, in a way ❤️ Otherwise she would totally shut down 💔

Their trauma really did shape them! Like, even if Cherie didn’t really have a father growing up, she was still much more privileged than Clover could ever be ❤️ She was very sheltered and coddled and Cassie tried to keep her away from her own trauma of divorce -even though it was impossible to do it completely- Cherie never really witnessed actual heartbreak until she got to London. She believed her parents didn’t love each other so she grew up thinking love was the most important thing in the world, because she had the privilege to do so.

Clover on the other hand was not given that same privilege💔 So she has so many trust issues because of her background, because it’s full of nightmares and trauma 💔

It was if you hurt me once, you’ve lost me forever, and her being taught that really shows in her relationship with Anthony. She shows the dramatic highs and lows, and how she clings on so tightly because it will all be taken away if one wrong move is made, and we see her react that way throughout the story. This is so true!😍

For Cherie, in a way – at least up until a certain point in the story- everything was life or death, she has such a determined way of thinking that she wasn’t really familiar with the “gray” area ❤️ It was yet another thing her parents’ divorce influenced her way of seeing things, especially love and relationships ❤️

clover never has any sign of when the trauma will arrive; for all she knows, it’s already there and she acts as if it is. Yesss because for her it’s always there at the back of her mind! 💔 She basically grew up in survival mode, she had to look out for any and every small change, a difference in one’s tone of voice or even a glance, so she is still very much ready to jump back at the slightest sign of it 💔

Anthony’s trauma response and Benedict’s trauma response are incredibly different than each other and it influenced every single part of their lives, from their personalities to their romantic relationships. That’s also why -from the beginning- Benedict had more chance with Clover than any other person did, he is very observant and he was allowed to figure out his own feelings in everything, he didn’t have to taken on the responsibilities that Anthony did. Benedict was allowed to be himself while Anthony was forced to be the head of the family after their father’s death❤️

It's so true! Like, Cherie and Anthony had that “rush” throughout their relationship even from the beginning, they were sneaking around, they were keeping things secrets, they were actively looking for unchaperoned moments even if they knew about the consequences and it took them a very long time and a lot of character development to realize that they can actually calm down and control the chaos ❤️

Benedict and Clover’s relationship is the total opposite of it ❤️ While Cherie and Anthony could be incredibly reckless, most of the moments between Benedict and Clover were planned and calm, like Benedict has been incredibly careful to give her that space instead of chaos ❤️

I think it’s also very interesting because of the dynamics of power and control in both couples. In Cherie and Anthony’s relationship, up until the moment she heard Simon and Anthony in the study, Anthony had been the one in control and he quite liked it, like that was kind of the dynamic between them. It took him the actual danger of losing her forever to learn to let go of that control in their relationship, that was one of the biggest challenges for him in terms of character development❤️

Benedict and Clover on the other hand are very different than that, because up until the moment they got caught, there was not an instance or a time where they were together and Clover wasn’t in control. And she knew it, that was why she was so comfortable to be around him even unchaperoned❤️ Even when their first kiss happened, though Benedict was the one who told her he would kiss her if she didn’t walk away, she was the one who took the first step, she was the one who pulled the cigarette from his lips so that he could kiss her ❤️ Clover has been setting the pace in their relationship from the very beginning, Benedict just makes sure they can talk and spend time together ❤️

Oh yeah, Cherie and Anthony’s romance was very out of control throughout the story, Clover and Benedict on the other hand are moving much more carefully and with so much patience ❤️

They definitely had other options in terms of marriage! But I also think after meeting one another, they would always be in love with each other even if they married other people❤️

I actually don’t think there is anyone in the ton that Clover would have the dynamic and romance she has with Benedict! ❤️ The same for Benedict, I think something would feel missing 😁They are meant for each other and we will see many scenes with it! ❤️

Oh I totally get that analogy, yes! ❤️ And working for that trust creates a very strong bond ❤️

Sprint vs marathon is a wonderful way to put it! ❤️ Anthony and Cherie were very impulsive, and Benedict and Clover are more…like, they’re more in control ❤️ It will take them a very long time to be open with each other -at least on Clover’s part- but it will also make them fall for each other even more ❤️ Especially for Clover, she is not the person to fall for someone that suddenly and willingly like Cherie ❤️ Cherie spent her whole life wishing and waiting for her love story, so when she finally got it she was so happy that she didn’t think about slowing down 😂 Clover on the other hand spent her whole life repeating over and over again how she would never fall in love, so it will be a very different process for her ❤️

DARLING-

I am hugging you virtually, like…. You have no idea how much it means to me that you wrote this, you have made me incredibly happy! 🥰 You are so talented with literary analysis and symbolism and also reading the characters and between the lines! ❤️ This ask gave me so much inspiration and also made me think of the story in very different ways with different perspective 🥰 And I learned a lot about the dynamics of the characters and I’m just like, so excited to use it in the story! 🥰😍❤️

I re-read this the whole day over and over again and I am still in awe of it ❤️ I LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND YOU’RE SO AMAZING OMG ❤️

3 notes · View notes

missluckycharms · 3 years

Text

These small moments.

Single Dad!Harry and his little love, Honey.

Summary: mornings with Honey are Harrys favourite, small chats with blurry eyes and lazy smiles is what makes him feel closer to his little lady.

A/N: ahhh they’re so 🥺 enjoy !!

Click *** for visuals throughout the story.

Warnings: none, just pure fluff and dad jokes.

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist.

It’s nearly seven in the morning.

The sunrise shining through the windows and casting a bright warm hue onto Harry’s sleeping body in his bed. The white sheets tossed about and his head buried in the pillow, his cheek smushed to up and his lips slightly parted letting out small snores.

The only sound throughout the whole house is the sound of birds chirping about outside and the engines of cars on their way down the roads, the morning rush nearly upon the streets as people make their way to their nine till five jobs. The house has a slight breeze throughout due to Harry always sleeping with his window cracked open, and his door cracked open also to allow honey to walk in when she needed her Papa.

Speaking of the little love, she’s already awake, in her own small pink coloured bed, many pillows around her and her stuffies lined up against the wall, her favourite stuffie in her hand — Pascal from Tangled is her favourite stuffie, she brings him everywhere, even sneaks him into school in her back pack when Harrys not looking. She does this every morning, she lays in bed and talks to her stuffie or just stares at the ceiling, her glow in the dark stars now white and barely noticeable in the bright room, her pink curtains casting a pink hue around the room.

She waits five minutes before she’s hopping out of her bed and padding along towards her door, she pulls it open as it’s only closed a little, allowing enough of a gap for her small body to fit through. She snuggles pascal as she walks, looking around and noticing her Papa must still be asleep, she immediately darts for his room, peeping her curly head in and looking at his sleeping body, his back facing her and his bed messy as usual, but there’s always enough space for her to snuggle up next to him.

She doesn’t wake him, she tip toes towards the side he’s not laying on, throwing pascal up first before she’s hiking herself up on the large bed, a small groan when she has to put more strength into getting up than usual due to her sleepy state. When she’s up, she brushes the curls from her face with a harsh swipe, her blue doe eyes looking at her Papa, his hair messy like hers. She lays down on the pillow, looking at her Papa as she softly taps his cheek and pushes pascal towards him.

“G’morning button” he grumbles when he hears a small giggle, pascal now on his back as her dimples pop out at how ridiculous the man looks with a small green chameleon stuffie on his bare back. He smiles when he hears her hearty laugh, instantly wrapping his tattooed arm around her and squishing her into his chest.

“Papa! Cant see!” She laughs loudly, her small body being caged by her Dad’s broad muscular one, his own laughs filling the room as she peeps her head up at him, a small pout on her lips which causes him to lean down and peck her lips lightly.

“Have a good sleep? Yeah?” He asks when she nods happily, her small hand playing with his cross necklace as he shuts his eyes for a few more minutes, face buried in her chestnut curls as she talks to him and pascal, Harry never knowing which one she’s actually talking to sometimes.

“Papa? Pancakes now?” She asks after another five minutes, her small attention span running out which causes Harry to wake up from resting his eyes, smile back on his face as he turns them over so he’s laying on his back and Honey is sat on his stomach slapping his chest looking at his tattoos — she loves his tattoos or his “paintings” as she calls them.

“Papa, your pearlies are gone” she says disappointed looking to see that her favourite necklace of his which is his Pearl one, is missing. She loves to run her small hands over it, the feeling and look of it making her eyes wide in awe at the beauty of it.

“Should I wear them today?” He asks with a smile, watching as she rubs her eyes a little, slowly waking herself up as she lets out a small yawn, her small pouty lips returning as she babbles on nonsense as Harry tries to tame her hair a little before he has to style it for her today.

“Love your pearlies Papa” she says brightly, laying down on his chest, her curls tickling his chin as he wraps and arm around her back, rubbing small circles on it as she relaxes a little, her small body still trying to wake up as Harry softly kisses her head.

It’s when his alarm rings when the two actually peel themselves from bed, Honey immediately springing up and slapping his phone to turn off the sound, it’s her favourite thing to do for some reason, she always shouts “I did it Papa!” Which makes him laugh and nod kissing her head proudly. They’re both in the kitchen now, the early start allowing them to lounge about in their comfy clothes for awhile while they make breakfast. Harry is only in a pair of grey joggers while Honey sits on the counter, helping him add in flour and sugar to the pancake batter in her baby pink bunny printed silk pyjama set *** the darker complexion of her skin standing out against the pale pink, Harry was overjoyed when he seen she had the same skin tone as her Mum, her darker skin causing her blue eyes to be brighter.

“Wanna help crack an egg button? Need t’be careful though, don’t want crunch pancakes now do we?” He asks with a grin as she pulls a disgusted face shaking her head. Her small palm helps her Papa’s hand crack the egg and she giggles watching it plop down into the dry mixture.

They scarf down their banana pancakes through small chats and giggles, Harry cracking his usual jokes that have Honey giggling loudly as she shovelled her pancakes into her mouth, their faces hurting from laughing by the time they’re up in her bedroom, Harry standing at her drawers, holding up small outfits as Honey sits like the diva she is on her bed, giving him a thumbs down when she doesn’t like an outfit he picks. She’s so stubborn, but she gets that from him.

“I do it Papa!” She says annoyed now, marching over to him as she picks her up with a laugh, her small hands rooting about until she pulls out a white cable knit jumper with a few frills on the sleeves and a baby pink velvet pinafore to go over it. She smiles up at him as he nods, happy with her choice. ***

“Did good button, need to put some tights on you though, getting a bit nippy out” he says as she nods, walking towards her sock drawer and pulling out some white knitted tights with an smile as Harry gives her a thumbs up, causing her to laugh loudly.

“Why Papa shave?” She asks sitting on the sink, her small outfit on her and her brown boots swinging on her feet as she dangles them off the counter beside the sink watching as Harry applies his shaving foam and wets his razor under the water, he’s still shirtless and only in his joggers as Honey watches on — she loves watching him, when he’s shaving his face or when he’s cooking, even when he does something a small as put her DVD in the player, she’s fascinated by him and Harry thinks it’s because he’s all she has, and he doesn’t mind being the centre of her attention as she is his.

“Papa has hair on his face, sometimes it gets itchy when it lets long. You don’t like it sure you don’t, always complaining it tickles when I kiss ya” he says with a laugh, his hand gliding the razor over his face as he inspects himself in the mirror, trying not to nick himself as Honey watches on curiously.

“Yuck! Hate Papas beard, gross!” She says as Harry looks at her, his face shaven and the foam gone, he picks up his curl cream and scrunches it through his hair a little.

“S’not nice to say gross button, remember? Cant say things are gross” he warns her, her small face falling but nodding as she takes the small scolding from her Papa, he rarely scolds her and when he does, he feels guilty but he knows it’s for her own good. Apart from a few slip ups here and there, she’s the most well mannered toddler ever, everyone that meets her complements Harry on his good parenting which means so much to him due to what he’s been through to get to where he is now.

It’s another few minutes before Harry is fully dressed, a baby blue striped grey suit *** on his body and his usual gucci heeled boots that Honey loves the sound of, she instantly perks up at the sound knowing her Papa is near. She claps when he walks out from the bathroom, it’s her new thing, she claps like he’s putting on a fashion show, causing him to strike a pose which causes her to fall back onto the bed in fits of laughter.

“Alright button, hair time!” He says as she widens her eyes, trying to wriggle off his bed and run away. She hates her hair being combed due to her curls being unruly and always tangled on her head. He grabs her and makes monster noises at her, tickling her belly as she screams out a laugh, nearly falling from his arms as he places her down on the counter by the sink, she spins around and watches herself in the mirror.

“What are we going for today Miss Styles?” He asks her like a professional hair stylist, her smile wide as she grabs a pink hair tie with small butterfly clips also, she shows them to him in the mirror as he smiles, taking her hair brush and de tangling spray. He struggles a little but he gets there in the end, her hair tied up in a pony tail and the small butterfly clips all around her head as she smiles brightly at herself.

“Did good job Papa!” She says clapping her hands, seeing how her Dad is improving, he’s been watching tutorials nightly and even trying some on himself as he gets used to braiding and all that stuff for when she starts asking for more complex styles in her curly hair.

He packs her bag and they’re both out the door quickly, he straps her into her booster seat in his black Range Rover, her legs dangling about as she rings and dances to the song on the radio, Harry keeping his eyes on the road but they flicker to hers in the rear view mirror when she speaks to him. Honey loves school, she loves her teacher and she loves making new friends due to her out going personality that she definitely got from her Mum, she could make friends with a tree if she was near one.

She’s holding his hand as he walks her in the gates, the other kids all lining up on their designated class spot on the ground, a yellow circle painted on the tarmac signalling the younger class. The Mums are all there with their kids, the odd few Dads there also but it’s always the Mums who are smiling and speaking to Harry as they watch their kids walk into their classroom, small hands waving as they excitedly march into the school. He doesn’t stay long after she’s gone in, mainly because the Mums have no filter and would publicly flirt with the single Dad even when they have wedding bands on their fingers.

He brushes off all the women, smiling at them as he runs out the gate, hearing them all whisper amongst themselves as they excitedly look on as he pulls away in his expensive car heading towards his work building. Harry feels empty when Honey is gone, he loves mornings with her, just him and her going about their mornings, making breakfast and cracking up at jokes they tell one another back and forth over banana pancakes every morning, some mornings they have cereal if they wake up late and sometimes if they wake up extra early and can’t go back asleep, they get ready and Harry brings her out for breakfast before dropping her off at school.

It’s the little moments with Honey that Harry cherishes, knowing she won’t be his little love for very long, but doesn’t think about that. He lives in the present with her and he loves how they are now, he loves his little lady with all his heart.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles one shot #harry styles fandom #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #singledad!harry #single dad au #fanfic authors #fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader

332 notes · View notes

dourpeep · 3 years

Note

you asked for albedo stuff yesterday and i forgot to give you some 🥲 here

-Albedo bites the ends of his pencil/pen while in deep thought

-He covers his mouth while laughing

-His hair is a huge problem to becoming messy so he usually keeps it in one style bc he sucks at styling hair

-I believe he would hyperfocus on a meal until he starts to hate it and goes onto another

-Probably sleeps on his back or stomach

-Quietly sings to himself when he's alone doing experiments

-his hands are probably soft as hell

-he probably bounces his leg when stressed

-I cant decide whether or not he's always cold or always hot (wearing his jacket everywhere but seems fine at dragonspine??)

-would break klee out of jail

-he always tries to have at least one meal with klee

WAIT SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS--

definitely a pleasant surprise nodnod always a treat to have more Albedo, thank you for the food, Chi OTL

I'll write a little about each one b/c I have no self control and I'm feeling inspired by ur headcanons so lets goooooo ehehehe

They'll be a mix between imagines and drabbles!

Enjoy the food :3c

Contains: Albedo x gn!Reader, some standalone Albedo, Klee, fluff

- Breaking Habits -

"Albedo? You're doing it again-"

He blinks, shifting to remove the tip of his pencil from his lips, frowning when little indents come into view.

"Hm...it appears to be so."

Really, the Chief Alchemist has tried to wean himself off the habit, taking to coating the butt ends of his writing utensils with a horrid concoction of qingxin and jueyun chili, but the moment he slips into his usual daily tasks, it arises once more. The bitter spiciness is a taste that he still has not forgotten.

When his brows crease and his gaze seems to burn into the pencil, you offer a smile. With a kiss pressed to his temple, you take it from his loose grasp, setting it down on the table's surface.

A few weeks later, it dawns on him that the touch of wood to his lips evokes the memory of your gentle reminder. Without fail, he sets his pencil down in search of a sweet to busy himself with instead.

- His Laugh -

I can just imagine him with his hand lifted to cover his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes slightly squinted. It's something that'd happen almost instantaneously--he doesn't intend to hide his smile but for some reason he can't help but do it.

An endearing habit that you've come to look for.

Regardless-

If you lower his hand and pepper him with a few little kisses, you'll get another giggle out of him before a kiss.

- Hairstyles -

Albedo only knows two ways to do hair: Klee's twin pigtails and his own half-up braid.

Over the past three years of his residency in Mond, it's become a sort of trademark. The assumption that it's just how he likes to style his hair has long since been accepted as truth--and really, he does prefer the style.

Though...

"Mr Albedo? Perhaps you should try to tie it all up instead...?"

The stray wisps of bangs that escape from the securely tied braid fall into his face and distract him from the task at hand. There's also the ever-present tickle right where the blond locks fall around his jaw. Surely, this shouldn't prove to be a problem considering he always has this style...right?

Needless to say, the smell of singed hair makes him choke and the Alchemist finds himself pulling away to tie his hair properly.

It's simple.

Or at least that's what he has been stuck repeating like a mantra as he stares at his reflection, unhappy with the way there's a strange bit of hair that refuses to stay tied. Sighing, he undoes his pony tail and tries again.

Hm.

No, now it's lopsided...certainly can't have that.

- Mealtime -

First, two little ears peek up above the surface of the counter besides him. Then, two little eyes belonging to a stuff rabbit toy followed by a red hat--

"Klee?"

The little girl stares at the fish steaks sizzling away on the pan, displeasure on her features despite the incredibly enticing smell. With unmatched resolve, she huffs.

"Big brother, Klee doesn't want fish again-"

Ah, right.

He's been in another of those moods, the particular taste and texture of the fish mingling with the salted butter, simple sauce, and lightly seasoned veggies sounding so much more appealing compared to nearly any other dish he's tried to enjoy in the past two weeks. It's without a doubt Albedo's all-time favorite dish. Perfect for someone with a small appetite and a need for something quick, filling, and nutritious.

"What would you like then?"

Ultimately (and truly, Albedo wasn't surprise), the little knight requested a serving of 'Fishy Toast'. Cutting up one of the fillets he'd fried, he laughs and shakes his head.

- Sleep Time -

When you come home, it's already dark, the streetlamps lining the cobbled road illuminating the front door as you fish out your key.

"Albedo? I'm back-"

Soft snoring punctuates the silence.

With a fond smile, you remove your shoes and make your way to the make-shift 'sleep station' set up on the couch. Sure enough, with his face shoved at an awkward angle against a pillow, Albedo lays on his stomach holding a second pillow to his chest.

As much as you'd rather not wake him (after all, he's barely gotten sleep over the past few days with how busy it's been), you kneel besides the couch to gently shake him awake.

"Bedo? Bedo, lets go to bed-"

He shoves his face further into his pillow, muttering something about waiting for results. But the silence that follows only lasts so long until he sighs and opens his bleary eyes.

"Welcome home," he mumbles, carefully shuffling best he can closer to meet your lips.

With a stretch and sigh, he sits up. Blond hair sticks up from the top of his head and to his cheek, some parts tangled despite his attempts to prevent it--your hair shouldn't tangle if you sleep on your stomach, right?

Holding back your laugh, you help him up so that the two of you can get ready to sleep.

- Singing -

Most often if not nearly each day, if you pass by the Favonius HQ's workshop, you might catch the soft sound of singing. A light sound that drifts from the partly-cracked door echoes into the empty hallway. Regardless of the traffic outside, it shows no sign of stopping, so you easily can sit right outside and listen.

It's not shy, though, even as the man's dulcet tone comes out gently, and there are days that the lyrics that slip from his tongue are of other regions.

Perhaps if you ever approach the Chief Alchemist, you might be able to convince him to sing just a short little tune. He'll oblige, though a soft dusting of pink will cover his cheeks as he does.

- Hands -

"My hands?"

Albedo watches as you tug off his gloves, head cocked to the side curiously. The moment his hands are free from their confines, you press a kiss to his palm and intertwine your fingers.

"Do you use lotion or something?"

He laughs.

"...Not that I am aware of...?"

When you squeeze his hand once, he squeezes yours back three times before bringing your joined hand to his cheek. Resting against them, his eyes close.

"Why do you ask?"

He feels you take his other hand as well, turning it over palm-side up, your fingertips tracing over the lines that adorn it's surface.

The tenderness of your touch is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

"Mmm...no reason."

- Leg Bouncing -

Whenever Albedo bounces his leg sitting at the Dragonspine workshop, a curse or two will slip out the moment his knee bangs against the wood.

Even being considered short, the table has decided to lay just low enough for him to cause minor injury to himself.

Shaking his head, he rubs at his knee to rid himself of the dull ache before continuing his observations at hand.

- His Jacket -

Wait okay but like...what if he actually has different versions of the same jacket? They look virtually the same but there's some of lighter material for warmer days, 'standard' ones for day-to-day use, and heavier ones lined with warm, soft fabric to insulate heat when he's on Dragonspine.

Same with his tights. I do know for a fact that there are tights lined with fleece that are incredibly warm and comfortable!!

- Escapees -

"You need to be very quiet, alright?"

Once more in the dark of the night, Albedo finds himself awake within the walls of the Favonius Headquarters.

Now...Klee technically wasn't grounded, so technically escorting her out of the so called 'solitary confinement' wasn't against any rule. To be fair, the room itself also wasn't really that either, judging by the child-themed decor, soft bed, books littering the floor, and the little table that sits just off to the opposite side of the room.

So! Albedo was certain that there wasn't any harm in what he was doing.

Not that he wasn't still sneaking around on his little improvised rescue mission.

He looks back to Klee, the little girl now wide awake and hanging on to his hand tightly.

When the morning comes, he sighs, crouched sitting on one of the child-sized chairs in the solitary confinement room, Klee peacefully snoozing in bed.

If only Jean wasn't pulling an all-nighter last night as well.

- Very Early Breakfasts -

Klee wakes up to the smell of sweet berry jam and chocolate in the air.

Clumsily, she slips out from under the covers with Dodoco cradled in her arms, padding along the wooden floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Big brother...?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes waiting for him to turn around.

"Oh, good morning Klee-"

"What time is it?"

That, Albedo decided, was a very good question. Especially considering that he hadn't yet gone to sleep and instead shuffled through the kitchen in the early hours of the day to make pancakes. If he had to guess--and he took a quick peek out the window despite the darkness of the early morning lending no clue--he'd say it was nearing 4am.

"Early. Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

The plate is presented to her with a brilliant smile, the Chief Alchemist satisfied to be able to keep his promise with her to always share a meal. But...the fluffy pancakes and freshly made whipped cream were also a source of his brightened mood.

Even though he knew he'd have no time to sleep and pack for his next Dragonspine expedition, the lack of sleep was worth seeing the sudden widening of eyes and delighted giggle from his younger sibling.

He could always take a quick nap at the base camp, anyway.

#anon asks #chifema #albedo #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact headcanons #albedo headcanons #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact drabbles #albedo my beloved #klee #albedo x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff

222 notes · View notes

evafrechette · 3 years

Text

With A Little Help From My Hyung

↠ yoongi x seokjin | smut | friends to lovers, slow burn | 18+ | 2.4k

↠ Summary: Seokjin is the best roommate Yoongi could have asked for, he’s funny, respectful, a good cook and incredibly handsome. That’s a big problem though - because Yoongi has a constant boner over him.

↠ Warnings: eventual smut, drama queen yoongi, oblivious seokjin, blowjobs, standing sex, yoongi enjoys seokjin carrying him around, anal sex, yoongi is clumsy and hurts himself, which is a great excuse to have seokjin look after him, the other members make a small appearance, my fic usually has a few swear words, hyung kink???

"Hyung, stop it. Leave me alone." Yoongi's deep voice grumbled defiantly.

"Aish, quit being a baby Yoongi-yah, let me help." Seokjin held his hand out to the smaller man who sat on the cold concrete ground below him, food scattered around his aching body, tangerines rolling down the sidewalk.

Yoongi slapped away Seokjin's hand, scowling at his annoying roommate. He got onto his knees and attempted to stand, wincing in pain the moment he put pressure onto his left foot. Only moments before he and Seokjin had left the convenience store, arms full of energy drinks, jelly candy, ramen and tangerines. But Yoongi being Yoongi was busy in his own world and didn't notice the patch of ice on the footpath right in front of him, once his foot touched the slippery ice he slipped and wobbled about, struggling to balance before his legs came out from under him, falling directly onto his ass. Paper bag flying out of his grip, contents spilling onto the sidewalk.

He tried to stand again, taking his time as he clung onto Seokjin's arm, managing to get himself upright, left foot hovering above the ground, but when he placed it firmly against the sidewalk pain shot up his leg and he suddenly felt faint. "Shit, I think it's broken Hyung." He looked up into Seokjin's eyes, refusing to let the tears spill. Yoongi was in pain, a lot of fucking pain but he couldn't let his hyung see him be a cry baby.

"You hit the ground hard but it's probably just a sprain or something, I doubt it's broken. You're a real drama queen Min Yoongi. Can you stand by yourself for a bit?" Yoongi nodded in reply and let go of the elders arm, watching as he carefully rushed around picking up the spilled food and shoved it into his own bag. Seokjin walked back to Yoongi, spinning around so his back faced the man. He crouched down, holding the overfilled paper bag tight against his chest. "Jump on Yoongi-ah, and don't even try it with me. I'm your Hyung you have to listen to me."

Yoongi rolled his eyes but slowly hobbled over to his taller roommate, awkwardly jumping onto his back, arms wrapping around Seokjin's neck, and his short legs around his waist when the older man stood. "I don't have to listen to shit." He mumbled into Seokjin's messy brown hair. Seokjin let out his trademark high pitched laugh as he carried his injured roommate back towards their apartment, "You're so full of it Yoongi."

The walk would usually only take five minutes, but carrying a grown man (who enjoyed complaining every few minutes) had a part in the trip taking close to twenty. Yoongi laid his head on Seokjin's wide shoulders and enjoyed the way his oversized blue shirt smelled of a calming mix of lavender and vanilla bean, he took a mental note to check what brand of washing powder the man used when he got home.

Something about being carried on Seokjin's back made Yoongi's belly flip, he had never felt so small and vulnerable in his life. He was the strong one of their group - the pit bull, small but tough, with an acid tongue that could make a grown man cry. But being carried around by his cute, tall, goofy roommate was actually kind of comforting, it felt nice to snuggle against his broad shoulders.

Yoongi could feel his cheeks heating up, he had been crushing on his video game loving roommate for a few months now. At first the blond thought they were just compatible roommates, respecting each others boundaries and privacy, they quickly became friends bonding over their love of cooking, but along the way Yoongi developed feelings. His eyes lingering on Seokjin longer than what was socially acceptable, sneakily scooching closer to his side on the couch while he watched Seokjin get annihilated playing video games and "accidentally" falling asleep during their movie marathon nights, head resting comfortably against Seokjin's shoulder. But Yoongi knew nothing would come of his little crush so he kept his feelings locked away and instead tried to focus on their good friendship instead.

Seokjin carefully placed Yoongi on the couch, pushing a cushion under his now swollen foot. He rushed off to Yoongi's room and returned with a blanket which he draped over the smaller man. With a happy hum he walked towards the kitchen and Yoongi watched with lovesick eyes as he put away their food shopping. Everytime Seokjin reached up for the top shelf his shirt would raise a little, giving Yoongi a glimpse of the tantalising caramel skin underneath. Yoongi longed to drag his calloused fingertips along that skin, to leave small kisses down Seokjin's spine, along his lower back and down over his firm ass. He sought to taste Seokjin, to feel his cock heavy on his tongue, to feel the burn of his cock stretching him out.

"Hey Yoongi are you okay?" A cool hand placed against his forehead brought Yoongi out of his Seokjin induced daze. His roommate was looking at him with fondness and concern, "Your cheeks are really red but you're not hot or anything. I thought maybe you were coming down with a fever." Yoongi knew he was even redder now, but he allowed himself to relax against the man's hand. He sighed when Seokjin withdrew his hand and moved to sit on the bean bag on the floor. "Yeah, no I'm fine. Just a bit embarrassed about this." Yoongi waved his hand over his ankle.

"Aish, these things happen. Just have to be more careful. And Hyung is here to take care of you okay? Anything you need you let me know. Keep that boney ass of yours on the couch."

The pair spent the rest of the night watching a marathon of Law of the Jungle, empty containers of ramen and Kloud draft beer scattered across the coffee table. Yoongi as usual was unable to keep the snarky comments to himself, "Pfft look at them! Useless. I could survive on that island so much better than any of them." He quipped as a team of celebrities dived into the ocean to try to catch fish with just their hands.

"Errrr Yoongi-yah, did you forget that I had to carry your tiny ass home this evening? Your weak ankles wouldn't last a day on that show." Seokjin doubled over in laughter, clapping his hands loudly as Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"Whatever Jin-hyung," he scoffed, "Like you'd do any better."

"Pretty sure I'd do great on a show like this! You've seen me fishing Yoongi, I'm practically a professional at it now."

Yoongi groaned at this, Seokjin had dragged him out fishing more times than he could even count and he was nowhere near a professional level. The last time they went fishing together Seokjin didn't catch a single fish. He did manage to catch some seaweed and disintegrating plastic bag though.

Yoongi could feel his eyelids getting heavy, and instead of fighting the feeling allowed himself to drift off to sleep, which wasn't hard as sleep was his favourite hobby after all. Yoongi was having a beautiful dream, he was being carried in Seokjin's strong arms as the brunette carried him along the golden hues of a sandy beach, gentle waves breaking along the shore splashing against Seokjin's bare feet. He mirrored Seokjin's smile as his Hyung looked down at him, carrying him bridal style while the breeze whispered sweetly around them both.

"Aish, Yoongi you are a pain in my ass, but you're kinda cute so it's okay I guess." His gummy smile widened at the sweet but slightly insulting words. "What are you smiling about you weirdo." Seokjin let out a small laugh.

Yoongi was confused, why was dream Seokjin insulting him? It took him a few seconds to realise that he was actually awake and that he was no longer asleep on the couch, but rather in the arms of his Hyung. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and let his body go slack against Seokjin's chest, adding a few very realistic soft snores for good measure. Yoongi felt his body fall gently against the cold mattress on his bed, shivering slightly at the loss of heat from Seokjin's warm body. A blanket was dragged up his body, before footsteps retreated out of the room and the door clicking shut quietly.

Yoongi's eyes widened once he was alone in the dark room, had he heard correct? Did Seokjin just call him cute? It took all his self control not to squeal like a teenage girl. He wiggled down the mattress, throwing the blankets over his head and snuggled into his soft pillows. That night Yoongi had the best sleep of his life, with a smile on his face and a hard cock in his pants.

-----

The following weekend Yoongi found himself squished between his friends Jungkook and Hoseok in the back seat of Jimin's tiny Hyundai Pony hatchback. Usher's 'U Remind Me' thumped out of the piss-poor and incredibly outdated sound system, tinny and grating on his ears. His friends, including Taehyung who was sitting in the passenger seat, were singing along at the top of their lungs, he threw his head back and groaned. Why did he get stuck with the loud idiots of their group? Yoongi peered through the windscreen, tall, shapely pine trees lined the dirt road they traveled along. Dust swirled around the car, a curtain of brown blocking the view of the car travelling behind them. The sky was dotted with grey clouds, slowly drifting across the sky hiding the sun, who was trying it's hardest to make an appearance.

The car full of friends pulled into a small gravel parking lot and climbed out of the stuffy vehicle. They watched as the trailing car pulled up beside them, excitedly chatting and joking around now that everyone had finally arrived. Today was Namjoon's choice of activity, one Yoongi was secretly dreading - Hiking. He cast a glance towards Seokjin who was dressed in a pair of black and white track suit pants, sneakers, wide brim bucket hat with drawcord and a fluffy cream jumper. He swallowed hard at the thought of wrapping his arms around Seokjin's waist and resting his head against his fleece covered chest. He looked so snuggly and warm and cute, yeah, really really cute.

Yoongi zoned out while the others planned their trek, his mind too focused on Seokjin's beautiful plush lips, enthralled by how his Hyung randomly pouted while he spoke, his plump bottom lip puffing out before returning back to normal. Yoongi found this habit of Seokjin's incredibly endearing and wondered if the man was even aware of what he was doing. Or at just how crazy it was making Yoongi feel.

"Is everyone okay with the plan?" Namjoon asked, slipping away a map into the front pocket of his jacket. The group all spoke at once, loud and chaotic as usual. "Okay well let's go!"

The group trekked for a few hours, enjoying the challenging course. Up and down steep inclines, weaving through lush forest and snaking between narrow boulders that sat unsteadily on either side of their path. They eventually came across a small stream that separated the gravel path, Yoongi looked down at his feet and whined. "Do we have to go through that? I'm wearing brand new shoes." His nose scrunched as he caught sight of the shallow murky water he knew he would have to trudge through.

"Why would you wear new shoes on a hike Yoongi?" Hoseok laughed, clapping the smaller man on the back. Yoongi glared at his friend, tempted to turn around and walk back to the car. Fuck nature.

"Don't worry about it Yoongi-yah, climb on." Seokjin smiled, bending down in front of Yoongi, memories of the previous weekend flooded Yoongi's thoughts. Without hesitation Yoongi climbed onto his back, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. He placed his chin into the crook of Seokjin's shoulder and sighed as herbal scented hair brushed across his nose.

"O-okay then, well errr let's get going then." Namjoon raised his eyebrow, the rest of the group watching quizzically as Seokjin happily carried Yoongi across the stream. They exchanged looks with each other, hushed whispers at what had just transpired, Yoongi knew the others would be talking, getting a piggy back ride was pretty out of character for him, but he was blissfully peaceful at that very moment. So fuck what anyone thought.

-----

Back at their apartment that night the pair settled into their usual routine of cheap ramen, beer and trashy kdramas on the television.

"Hey Hyung, thanks for picking me up today," Yoongi bit nervously into his thumbnail, a habit he struggled to free himself from, "You didn't need to . . Hobi was right though, those shoes cost $300 why did I choose to wear them today?" Yoongi knew exactly why - he was trying to look good for Seokjin. He had dashed out to a Camping and Fishing store after work to purchase an entirely new outfit for the day. He settled on a long sleeved yellow and green flannel shirt, khaki trousers and a blue and black fleece fila jacket. Plus those damn tramping boots that cost as much as his share of the rent.

Seokjin leaned in, inches away from Yoongi's face, breath catching in the back of his throat, heart hammering against his rib cage. "It was my pleasure," Seokjin grabbed Yoongi by the cheeks and pinched, jiggling the flushed skin between his thumb and index finger, "That's what a good Hyung does, helps their cry baby friends out." He laughed, letting go of Yoongi and plopping back down onto his side of the couch. Yoongi's hand shot up to his cheek, fingers brushing along his warm skin. Seokjin's touch felt amazing, electric sparks coursed through his body, Yoongi wanted those hands touching him in places that crossed the line from friends to lovers, those long fingers curling up inside of him brushing against his sweet sensitive spot, wrapped around his cock pumping him until it was too much to handle and he was screaming Seokjin's name while he spilled his release over his Hyungs hand.

Yoongi found it hard to concentrate on the television in front of him, eyes constantly drifting towards his roommate who looked amazing in a pair of grey shorts and loose white T-shirt, his feet curled up underneath him, strong thigh muscles catching Yoongi's attention. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his eyes, Yoongi wasn't sure how much more of Seokjin he could deal with. He was the perfect roommate, but his desire to be fucked by the man was becoming an every minute of the day kinda thing. Maybe Yoongi needed to hurry up and move out. He thought about Seokjin at work, while doing his laundry, on the bus to the grocery store, while putting the rubbish out, when pumping his dildo in and out of his ass, Seokjin was on his mind 24/7.

Yoongi's cock twitched as he watched the couple on television, the male lead carrying the female through a cherry blossom lined park while a terrible ballad wailed in the background. He decided that being carried was his newest kink. Or maybe Seokjin's entire existence was his fetish? He tugged on his hoop earring as his thoughts travelled to a million different scenarios in which Seokjin would need to lift and carry him around. He recalled the previous weekend, waking up while Seokjin carried him to bed, how nice it felt to be held in Seokjin's arms, to hear him call Yoongi cute. He wanted, no he needed that again.

Yoongi glanced out of the corner of his eye, the brunette’s head was down as he browsed at something on his phone, he watered his lips and decided now was the perfect time to enact his master plan. Yoongi closed his eyes and let out a loud yawn, arms stretched high above his head, "Mmmm what's the time?" He asked Seokjin drowsily. "Huh? Oh it's 9:23, are you tired already?" The brunette placed his phone on the coffee table and shifted to face Yoongi. "You're not? We walked a million miles today, of course I'm tired." For theatrics he let out another yawn. Seokjin shrugged and took a sip of his beer. "Guess I've got a better stamina than you."

Over the next half an hour Yoongi let out more fake yawns, complaining about his sore muscles and tired bones - which Seokjin informed him wasn't a real thing and that he was being a whiny old man again. His body sunk into the couch, head lolling against the arm rest as he feigned falling asleep. It would only be a matter of time before he would be whisked away in Seokjin's arms and it was making him giddy, trying his hardest not to crack a smile. Yoongi heard the room fall silent, the television now switched off. His heart was racing, this was it - the big moment - his hands were softly shaking, breath uneven and shallow.

"Hey Yoongi, wake up." A large hand shook his arm attempting to wake him from his faux slumber. His eyebrows furrowed, this wasn't how it was supposed to go. Seokjin was supposed to pick him up and carry him to the bedroom, whisper a few sweet words in his ear and maybe jerk him off a bit. He opened his eyes and glared at the handsome man standing over him, his plans were ruined and he and his neglected cock were pretty pissed off.

"Why didn't you just carry me Hyung?" Yoongi sulked, crossing his arms against his chest like a defiant toddler.

"W-why would I? You can walk your legs aren't broken."

"Well you've been carrying me around a lot recently so I just thought you'd do it again tonight. Ahhh fuck it whatever." He mumbled, avoiding eye contact with the brunette who was trying his hardest not to laugh.

"Aish, Yoongi-yah do you enjoy Seokjinnie lifting you up and carrying you around?" He could no longer hold it in, erupting into a fit of laughter.

Yoongi's cheeks burnt bright red, he was already a small man but he had never felt as small as he did right at this moment. Tears threatened to spill over his long lashes, he knew he was being a little dramatic but his heart was practically ripped out of his chest by his crush. Yoongi bowed his head refusing to look anywhere other than at his hands which were clasped together tightly.

"Wait, shit Yoongi I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you cry," Seokjin dropped down onto his knees and engulfed Yoongi's hands with his own. "So you do enjoy being carried by me?"

Yoongi sniffed, "Yeah. I like a lot about you Hyung, the carrying thing is one of my favourites though."

An awkward silence filled the room, Yoongi's sniffles the only sound to break the dead air. "Well uh, there is a lot I like about you too," he stroked his thumb against the back of Yoongi's hand softly and slowly. "I like your dry sense of humor, the way you screech when you're excited - that is so adorable. I like how passionate you are about music and I really like how your cheeks turn red whenever we touch each other by accident. I sorta brush up against you on purpose just to see it."

A gasp escaped Yoongi's lips, head snapping up to look into the dark chocolate eyes of his roommate. Seokjin's cheeks puffed wide as he gave Yoongi a sweet smile, his thumb continuing to draw circles over Yoongi's hands which were resting in his lap. "I think you're cute Yoongi-yah, and I'd love to kiss you. If you'd allow me to of course."

Yoongi's eyes darted to Seokjin's plump lips, inviting and glistening. He couldn't hold back any longer, throwing himself forward as he smashed their lips together, hungry and desperate. In the wild rush of lips and tongues exploring new territory their noses bumped together, deep chuckles slipping out between kisses. Yoongi's hands frantically grasped onto Seokjin's hair, pulling him down so their body's were close but it still wasn't enough, he needed to feel naked flesh against his own. Yoongi's long fingers travelled underneath Seokjin's thin cotton T-shirt and brushed against his soft stomach, over his nipples rubbing the hard nubs between his fingers and then back down his chest. He played with the elastic waist of Seokjin's shorts, dipping his hand inside, fingers grazing the wiry mound of pubic hair just above where his hands really wanted to touch, "I-is this okay Hyungie?" Yoongi whimpered, Seokjin's tongue running along the exposed skin of his neck, teeth nipping the soft skin.

"Mmmm yeah, touch Hyung Yoongi." Seokjin bit down gently his teeth scraping the skin. He attached his lips against the smaller man's neck, alternating between sucking on the warm flesh and sly little nibbles, creating deep purple bruises that contrasted beautifully against Yoongi's pale skin. While Seokjin was busy marking his neck, Yoongi pulled his cock out of the shorts and stroked sensually up and down his length, which was growing harder and stiffer in his hand. His hand glided over Seokjin's length at a quickening pace, flicking his wrists and gripping tight around the head before pulling off and pumping again. Yoongi added another hand on Seokjin's shaft and slowly twisted in opposite directions, up then down, left then right. His fingers played with the tip of his cock, pressing his thumb into the slit, stroking playfully over the head.

"Fuck your cock feels amazing Hyung," Yoongi sighed, Seokjin's cock pulsing in his grip, "C-can we fuck?"

Seokjin removed his swollen lips from Yoongi's neck with a 'pop' and took his time licking along the already fucked out man's lips, pressing their soft flesh against each other, gentle kisses that were in in opposition of the acceleration of Yoongi's heart beat. Seokjin sat between Yoongi's legs on the floor, hands roaming over the blonds thighs. When he reached Yoongi's crotch his fingers ghosted over Yoongi's hard cock visible through his sweats, he bucked his hips desperate for Seokjin's touch.

"Hyung's got you Yoongi, just sit back and relax hmmm?" He placed a sloppy wet kiss against the fleece material and helped pull them down to Yoongi's ankles. "Such a pretty cock Yoongi-yah." Seokjin's voice was smooth and sweet. His fingers grazed against Yoongi's balls, eyes flicking back up to watch Yoongi's reaction. He continued to massage his sack, pulling lightly and wiggling the weight in his hand. He rubbed his cheek along the soft skin of Yoongi's balls and then up and down his incredibly hard shaft. Tongue flicking out to leave small licks along the side, down to his balls and then further below to the sweet spot between Yoongi's balls and warm inviting hole.

Yoongi's slit was leaking precum so Seokjin lapped it up, moaning sinfully. A groaned escaped the back of Yoongi's throat when Seokjin took his balls into his mouth, sucking and kissing all over. He took his time enjoying their heat in his mouth. He stroked the blonds length while sucking the pale skin of Yoongi's inner thighs. Seokjin sat back and removed he and Yoongi's bottoms completely, throwing the pants into a small pile in the corner of the room. He stood and motioned for Yoongi to stand with him. Their lips crashed against another's once more, Yoongi standing on his tippy toes to match his Hyungs height. A knee slipped between Yoongi's thighs as the two men continued to taste and explore each others mouths.

"Shit, we need lube, uhhh, don't move Yoongi-yah! I'll be back quickly." Seokjin ran towards his bedroom leaving Yoongi standing naked from the waist down in their living room, cock red and hot. He gripped onto the base and squeezed tight, moaning at his own touch. Seokjin returned cock glistening from the lube, bouncing with every step. Yoongi gulped, Seokjin was longer than any cock his ass had taken before but god was he eager to have it inside him.

They kissed passionately while Seokjin fingered Yoongi's hole, stretching him open enough for his cock. Yoongi's mind had turned to mush, absolutely lost in the moment. It was as though Seokjin had flicked a switch in his ass to become a whimpering, whining mess. Seokjin bent his knees and using his right hand guided his cock into Yoongi's tight hole. Once inside he allowed Yoongi to get used to his size while his hands reached out to wrap around Yoongi's small waist. Without warning he lifted Yoongi, a squeak echoing in the silent room. "You are adorable Yoongi-yah, can't wait to hear more noises come from those pretty lips." Yoongi's legs wrapped around Seokjin's waist which readjusted their position, cock now deeper than before, big hands reached down to Yoongi's ass holding him in place as they walked out of the living room and into the hallway.

Yoongi held on tight, gripping onto strong shoulders as he was pushed against the wall with a thud. Seokjin's arms trembled from Yoongi’s weight so he started to pound into his ass before it was too much and he would have to let him go. Yoongi let out tiny pants and whimpers, eyelids half closed, mouth so slack drool was starting to drip from the corners. Seokjin's cock grazed over his prostate, hitting deep and hard with every thrust. "Hyung, hy-hyung ahh ah so good." His hands roamed over Seokjin's back leaving red and pink marks underneath the thin material of his shirt. His cock was trapped between their bodies, friction from their movements driving him insane.

Sweat dripped down Seokjin's face, his arms close to giving out. This was more intense than any workout his personal trainer at the gym had given him. He slammed his cock into Yoongi repeatedly eager to cum inside his ass. Yoongi's whimpers in his ear pushed Seokjin to his peak and exploded his white hot cum into Yoongi's warm hole.

They stood still while Seokjin caught his breath, Yoongi hanging onto his neck for dear life, almost as though the floor was lava. "Hyungie make me come, pleaseeeee I'm so close." Yoongi whined, nipping at Seokjin's lips then pouting against the plush flesh. He would rather be dead than admit it, but Seokjin was right - he was a bit of a drama queen. "I'll have to put you down though, I think my arms are about to fall off." Seokjin chuckled as Yoongi detached his legs from around the brunette's waist and placed them on the floor.

Seokjin reached down and gripped tight onto Yoongi's aching cock, moving his hand in a steady rhythm. Their foreheads touched, breathing in each others air, hushed pants and whimpers shared between the pair as they kiss messily, lips grazing chins and teeth clinking. Yoongi bucked into Seokjin's grip, incredibly close to his high. Seokjin's cum escaping slowly out of his hole and running down his creamy white thighs and the hand around his cock pushed Yoongi to his release, "Ah-ah Hyung don't stop, ahh I'm going to come, shit ahh." His body tensed as he came harder than ever before, Seokjin barely moving his hand as his cock throbbed and pulsated.

"Hyung, you have no idea how long I've wanted this to happen." Yoongi sighed, wrapping his hands around Seokjin's neck, fingers crawling their way up to thread through short dark hair. "I've wanted to do that since the day I moved in," Seokjin whispered in reply, ears turning crimson, "Come on let's get cleaned up and then cuddle."

-----

The pair made their way into Seokjin's bed, snuggled between a mess of cushions and soft toys, their limbs a tangled mess as impatient hands explored naked skin. They laughed as revelations of their feelings for each other were finally said out loud, cheeks tight and sore from smiling so hard. "Seokjin-hyung can we do this more often?" Yoongi's eyes avoided the naked man beside him focusing on the window pane instead. "Well I would hope so since I want to make your my boyfriend Yoongi-yah." Fingers caught hold of Yoongi's chin as his face was guided towards Seokjin's, a shy kiss planted on his lips. "Yes Hyung, fuck yes I'll be your boyfriend."

The roommates turned lovers drifted off to sleep that night with satisfied smiles on their faces, excited for what the future would hold for them both.

#Bts smut #bts fanfic #bts one shot #yoongi #seokjin #Yoongi x seokjin #yoonjin #yoonjin smut #bts fanfiction #bangtaninn #ksmutclub #armywriterssupport #bts fic #yoongi fic #jin fic #jin bts #suga

59 notes · View notes

neon-junkie · 3 years

Text

The Workhorse

Summary: Once a prized pony, Arthur has found himself single-handedly carrying the entire camps weight, and it's finally worn him down. Disgusted by how the gang treats him, you drag your sweetheart out of camp for a weekend away, spoiling him to many things: a hot bath, dinner, a massage, and a strap-on.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Word Count: 3507

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Pegging, dom!Reader, sub!Arthur, Established relationship, Praise kink, massage.

Notes: me?? writing Arthur content?? I know I rarely post about him, but I do love Mister Morgan, enough to peg his ass

Here he comes, your other half, trailing back into camp with heavy bags under his eyes; you may be on the other side of the camp, but you can spot how exhausted he is from a mile off. Arthur's back is hunched over, his mouth slightly parted, and the grunt he makes as he forces himself off the saddle makes your heart shatter. Your poor lover, your sweetheart, your darling Arthur, as you like to call him. You've told certain gang members off before, for making Arthur do all the heavy work whilst other capable members lie back and relax. It's manipulative, conning Arthur into doing all the work simply because he struggles to say no. Well, enough is enough. You're trailing over to him now, ready to take his saddlebags off him and shoo him into your shared tent. As always, he protests the second you reach out for the bag, but you gently swat his hand away, and poor Arthur doesn't have the energy to refuse again. "Thank you," he replies, barely above a whisper, and takes your hand as you trail him over to your shared tent.

"It's so unfair," you begin to grumble on the walk, hoping that the camp members can overhear you. "Making you do all the work, sweetheart, you're so visibly tired," you sigh. "It's alright, darlin', I've just had a rough couple of days," Arthur replies, removing his hat as he enters the enclosed tent. "I'm not having it! not any more!" you grunt, placing Arthurs saddlebags down where they usually go. You turn to Arthur, whose looking down at you with tired eyes. "We're going to get away from here for a few days, somewhere relaxing," you begin telling him as you undress him. Arthur allows you to, knowing he'd happily collapse from exhaustion in his dirty clothes, if you'd let him. "You got anywhere in mind?" Arthur questions, shrugging his shirt off, followed by kicking off his boots and pants. "I've seen a cabin not too far from here. It's secluded, surrounded by a pretty landscape, and seemed deserted when I passed by," you explain. You dip a rag into some water, rinsing it before approaching Arthur. In the few seconds that you've turned to get the wash rag ready, he's sat down on the cot, looking like a sad puppy in just his briefs. "When did you find it? you ain't told me about this place before," Arthur asks, his head lifting as he speaks to you. "Whilst you were away," you explain. "Oh," Arthur sighs, watching you slide the cloth across his arm, attempting to clean him from his many layers of dirt. "Must'a been gone for a while." "Just under two weeks, I was ready to go looking for you," you tell him as you continue to bathe him, trailing the cloth over his other arm. "Did Dutch ask you to do that?" "No, I was going to leave on my own accord." "Was you gonna tell him?" "Of course." Arthur seems happy with your answer, his eyes following you as you rinse the cloth, watching the water turn brown within seconds. He straightens his back as you clean over his chest, trailing down his stomach, and gliding over his thighs. Once you stand back up, Arthur lets out a yawn, and you tell him that you're almost finished. He lets out a sigh of relief when you tell him to lie down on his front, letting out a hum of appreciation as you wipe the dirt off his back. Arthur's clean, or as clean as he can be with a wet rag. You can tell how exhausted he is as he shuffles about in your cot, rolling onto his side to free up your side of the bed. You two don't exchange any words, considering Arthur is already fast asleep as you pull the covers up over both of you, blowing out the lantern and curling up behind Arthur. Your arm wriggles beneath his head, your other arm wrapped around his waist, spooning him tenderly for the first time in days.

----

Dutch received an earful when he tried to protest you taking Arthur away for a relaxing weekend. "But I need him to-" he attempted to say, only for his face to turn white when you snapped, chewing him out, intentionally loud enough for everybody to hear. "Alright, whatever Arthur needs," Dutch eventually agreed, but only because you'd forced him to. It's unbelievable that his boss, his mentor, his somewhat-father-figure is against Arthur having some time off, a well needed break. Dutch makes passive comments here and there about how tired Arthur constantly looks, and you're surprised he's never suggested that Arthur relaxes, even briefly by the campfire. No bother, you've taken him out of camp to a remote cabin, one that you've spent the last week scouting out. The cabin is perfect, picturesque and somehow in decent condition. You spent a few days camping nearby, sitting, watching, waiting for anybody to come by and claim it as their own, but no owner showed up, so you're borrowing it. It overlooks a scenic landscape, a view that Arthur enjoyed as he laid back in his bath; the tub is small, but then again, Arthur is a big boy. He laughed for the first time in weeks as you scrubbed his hair, making playful comments here and there, leaving kisses on his temples after giving him a well needed head massage. Arthur attempted to wash the rest of his body, but you removed the bar of soap from his hand, and told him to enjoy his relaxing weekend. "My weekend? you really are spoilin' me, ain't you?" Arthur asked with a laugh, and didn't bother protesting. It's clear that Arthur feels guilty, not wanting his weight to be on anybody's shoulders, but he knows you well, and he knows that you won't take no for an answer, not when it comes to caring for your sweetheart. The only thing Arthur did protest was you drying him off. At first, he was fine with it, until you started drying his bum playfully, to which he swatted you away and reminded you that "I'm a big boy, I know how to dry my behind." Finally, Arthur is clean, relaxing in the nude on the double bed. He looks like a slob, sprawled out across the covers with a tin of peaches sitting on his chest. Every so often, Arthur picks a peach slice out, and slops it into his mouth, gobbing away and letting out a tired sigh. "What are you sighing for again?" you question, peering your head over your shoulder. You pause your current task, prepping dinner, to speak to him, not wanting to accidentally slice your fingers. "I just ain't used to relaxin', that's all," Arthur replies before eating another peach slice. "Well, you'll have to get used to it, cause I ain't lettin' the camp run you dry any more." "Oh, you gonna put your foot down with them?" he questions, letting out a soft laugh. "I am," you nod, before turning back to your cooking. "It ain't fair on you, Arthur. I don't see anybody liftin' a finger around that-" "-Darlin'," Arthur cuts you off. "It's alright, I know what you're sayin'. And like you said, maybe I should start puttin' my foot down with 'em too. Sayin' 'no' and all that. It just... it ain't like me," he sighs. "I know, Arthur. You've got a heart of gold, even if you won't admit it." Arthur mumbles something under his breath, and you assume it's along the lines of "no, I don't." Typical, of course he's going to reject praise. Arthur's had it drilled into his head from such a young age that he's a bad man, a killer, a thief, and so on, but you see so much more than that, and you're willing to do whatever it takes to help him at least see a peak of the good man that he truly is.

Dinner is slid into the oven, and you've got at least an hour to kill, possibly more, depending on how old and unkept this oven is. Your shoes were kicked off long ago, and now you're slipping off a few items of clothing, peeling the layers down until you're in just your undergarments. "More treats for me?" Arthur flirts as he watches you undress. "I'm afraid I ain't wearing the nice lingerie, Arthur," you reply, shaking your head softly. "All your lingerie is nice! how many times have I gotta tell you that?" "Oh, I see how it is!" you laugh. "So, you won't let me tell you that you're a good man, but you expect me to listen when you say all my lingerie is nice?" you question, playfully pointing out his hypocrisy as you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees beside him. "That ain't the same," Arthur murmurs, tilting his head to look away from you. He finishes off his final peach slice, placing the empty can on the bedside table, and turns to face you. "So, what now?" he asks. "Now, you let me give you a massage," you say with a smile. "A massage?!" Arthur blurts out. "You really are doing everythin' for me this weekend," he laughs, but doesn't protest. Instead, Arthur shuffles down the bed, rolling over onto his front. He bunches up the pillows beneath his head, his broad arms wrapping around them, snuggling down into the feather pillow. Arthur looks just like he always does - covered in bruises and cuts, his skin worn and flaky, peeling in some places from sunburn that he's caught out on the road. He's truly a rugged, classic cowboy, although Arthur doesn't always like the term. It's been drilled into his head by Dutch that 'outlaw' is the proper term, which is correct, considering Arthur doesn't herd cows for a living. You reach down over the edge of the bed, fishing into your rucksack for the bottle of massage oil you've brought specifically for this occasion. Arthur has a perfect, peachy behind, that you straddle and sit on, then begin getting to work. The oil is warmed up in your hands before smearing it all over Arthurs back; your hands trail up to his shoulders, coating them with whatever oil is left on your hands, before focusing on the massage. To nobody's surprise, he's tense, full of knots, lumps and bumps. Arthur reminds you of a workhorse, one that has been left in his harness for far too long; he's not been brushed in a long time, his coat now sticky and matted, and his hooves are overgrown and causing him pain. If only there was a way to shame the camp for what they've done, to make it clear just how much they've worn Arthur down, far beyond his bones. Thankfully, Arthur lets out sighs of relief, pleasant hums, small words of appreciation like "right there," and "oh, another knot?" His eyes are shut throughout it all, complimenting his relaxed face, but on the odd occasion, Arthurs brows do furrow as you work away another knot. You continue your trail, over his arms, down his shoulder blades, along his spine, and without thinking, you start massaging his bum. At first, Arthur laughs, and thinks you're joking. "You want me to stop?" you question. "...Nah, it's quite nice, actually," Arthur encourages, and chuckles to himself as you continue, playfully kneading at each of his cheeks. You shuffle down the bed as you go, spending far too long on his thighs; they're solid, as hard as his biceps and chest, and you question if he could crush somebody's skull between them. He continues showing his appreciation through the same small comments and pleasant sounds, but does grumble as you defeat a knot in his calf. Your hands trail up his body again, much quick this time, and return to playfully massaging his bum. "You really like m'peach, don't you?" Arthur says with a laugh, his eyes still shut, not paying much attention to your playfulness. "I do, you must do a lot of squats on your travels," you reply. "I guess I do, between everythin' else." Jealous is an understatement, it's downright unfair that Arthur Morgan has an ass this fine. However, as you're massaging away, an idea crosses your mind. You can't deny that you didn't prepare for this, wanting to be ready for whatever Arthur needs this weekend, so why not give it a try? You continue massaging away, innocent as always, but you slide the pad of your finger between his cheeks, making sure it trails over his entrance. Arthur doesn't react, and you assume he thinks you made a mistake, so you slide your finger over again. This time, Arthur lets out a hum, and that's it, that's all you manage to draw out from him. He'd tell you to stop, if he wanted you to, but he hasn't, so you continue. You eventually put your focus on his entrance, momentarily moving away to slick your fingers up in oil. Arthur lets out a deep exhale as your damp fingers press against his entrance, rubbing over his holes in circles, testing the waters before dipping in. Arthur lets out a sigh as you start pushing a finger in, only sinking your finger down to the first joint. You pause, and check to see how Arthur's doing; he's golden, a soft smile across his lips, and you're happy with how willing he seems. You then push down to the next joint. To your surprise, Arthur pushes his hips up, rutting against your fingers, pushing your finger into him until he reaches your knuckle. His hips return to resting on the bed, and he lets you take the lead, slowly working your single digit in and out of him. Arthur lets out the softest sighs you've ever heard, barely above a whisper, clearly enjoying the special attention that you've giving him. Once he feels ready, you begin slipping another finger in. This time, Arthur moans, his eyes remaining shut as you begin slowly fucking him with your fingers. "Damn," Arthur whimpers as you reach your knuckles. "This alright?" you question. "Yeah, real alright," Arthur moans. "Although, this ain't what I expected when you said you were gonna take care of me," he says with a soft laugh. "You let me know if you want me to stop," you reassure him, but your words are cut short as Arthur protests. "I won't be needin' to do that." "Oh? I think you forgot something, Arthur," you tut. Your voice is firm, a tone that you only use when needed, and Arthur picks up on it straight away. "I'm sorry... Miss," he sighs. "That's better, good boy." Arthur begins gripping at the pillow, bunching the thick fabric up in his fists, his head burying into it as you begin scissoring him, preparing him as much as you can. It's been so long since he received this kind of treatment, always so busy with work, always away on his travels, resorting to using his own hand whenever he can. It's rare that you two are left alone, and even rarer to be in a quiet and comfortable setting, so you might as well make the most of it.

"You feel ready, Arthur," you comment as you roll onto your side, relaxing on the bed beside him. Arthur finally peeks up, his eyes meeting yours, blown and hazy, entranced by your magic. "Ready for what, Miss?" he questions. "How's about I show you?" you suggest, tilting your head to latch your lips onto Arthurs. He kisses you tenderly, as always, his lips trailing over yours as light as a feather. Arthur lets out a whimper, crying into your mouth as you begin moving your fingers again; he continues his attempt at kissing you, but can't help the mewls that escape his lips as you continue toying with him. You break the kiss, your eyes meeting Arthurs; he's gazing at you lovingly, with a layer of lust drawn over him. "Please show me, Miss," Arthur begs. A soft kiss is placed on Arthur forehead as you slip your fingers from him, wiping yourself off on the covers before shuffling back up onto your knees. "No peeking," you order, and you watch as Arthur turns his head back against the pillow, shutting his eyes. You don't take too long to get ready, knowing exactly how to fasten this strap on. It always feels a little odd at first, foreign and somewhat sin-worthy, as you know neither of you should be doing this, but who's going to arrest you? God? You return to straddling Arthur, your cock slapping his butt cheek as you settle down. Arthur instantly knows what's in store for him, "I knew it," he mutters under his breath. "Don't get cheeky with me, boy," you teasingly prod. Arthur lets out a soft chuckle as he replies "I won't, Miss." You use some more oil to slick your cock up, adding a generous amount, before lining yourself up against Arthurs entrance. Slowly, you begin pushing in. Arthur deeply exhales as the tip enters him, his sigh turning into a long, drawn out moan as you sink deeper. Once fully sheathed, you hold yourself there, letting Arthur relax around your length. He's already panting, his eyes scrunched shut, his forehead slightly sweaty. Within time, Arthur calms down, and gives you a small nod to indicate that he's ready. You take it slow, watching as your cock disappears, then reappears. "Good boy," you coo, placing a kiss on Arthur shoulder blade. His cheeks are turning redder by the second, and he shifts his upper body upright, lying like a sphinx; it's the perfect position, you're able to thrust your cock down into Arthur, whilst having easy access to his neck and shoulders, soon to be covered in kisses. After some time, you pick up the pace. Arthur begins moaning, babbling out phrases like "thank you, Miss" and "yes please, Miss." "This is exactly what you need, isn't it?" you comment. Arthur's about to reply, but you slam your cock sharply into him, cutting his words short as he falls limp against the pillow. He stutters a few times before managing to show his appreciation, "it is, Miss." "And you look so pretty, as always, Arthur. Such a pretty boy, taking this strap for me." You feel Arthur tense up at your comment; he's fighting the urge to reject your praise, constantly thinking he doesn't deserve it. Arthur licks his lips before replying, "I am, Miss." "Good boy," you smile, dipping your head down to kiss his cheek. "My good boy," you correct yourself. "Your good boy," Arthur nods in agreement, before burying his head in the pillow, his hands gripping at it yet again. The pace you're going at is comfortable, not too slow, and not too fast; you're not being a tease, nor are you breaking a sweat, but it seems it's enough to make Arthur begin hitting peak. He always lets out specific moans when he's about to cum, only you're not ready for this to be over, not just yet. "Don't cum yet, sweetheart," you order in a soft and sweet tone. "M'tryin', it's just... it's been so long," Arthur whimpers. His head turns slightly as he talks, showing off his vibrant cheeks, and the glow of sweat painted across his face. "I know, Arthur," you sigh, kissing his shoulder. "But we've got all weekend to catch up," you smile, and return to your steady pace. Arthur's practically melted on the bed, sandwiched between you and the mattress. He already looks debauched, no doubt he'll need a towel bath before bed, if the bed is still sleepable, as you're almost certain Arthur has left a puddle of pre-cum atop of it. Oh well, you brought spare blankets for a reason. "M-Miss... I can't," Arthur pants. "You gotta... you gotta let me," he pleads. Arthur sounds like he's about to burst into tears, and you accept his plead by slipping out of him. "Roll over," you order, and Arthur flips over milliseconds after you order him to, eager as always. You shuffle down the bed and wrap your lips around his cock, to which Arthur practically sobs. He cums instantly, his hand resting on the back of your head, not pushing you down, but relaxing there instinctively. Arthur lets out a trail of sighs and moans, thanking you over and over. You milk him for all he's worth, running your tongue along his overly-sensitive shaft before sliding off him with a 'pop.' You've barely swallowed when Arthur grabs you, pulling you up against him. "Your turn, Miss," he blurts out, rushing to slip his hand between your legs. He dips beneath your strap, sinking his fingers into you, and curls them, rutting them perfectly. Arthur knows what he's doing, he knows your body better than you do, and you feel yourself tightening around him moments later, squirming against him as you cum. Near the end of your orgasm, Arthur catches your lips with his, and uses his spare hand to pull you down into a deep kiss. You're both starving, letting tongues slide against each other, noses bumping slightly, moans and groans escaping between kisses. Eventually, the kiss relaxes, as well as your bodies, falling limp atop of him. Arthur slips his fingers from you, wiping himself off on the covers before wrapping his arms around you. "God damn," he mutters, then places a kiss to your temple. "I needed that, I really needed that... thank you." "You ain't gotta thank me, Arthur," you reply as you trail your fingertips across his chest. Arthur doesn't verbally reply, instead, he gives you a slight squeeze during the cuddle. You're both exhausted, drained on the first day of your weekend away, but you'll probably be refreshed by the time morning rolls around, ready to wake Arthur up with another surprise. The silence is soon broken as Arthur sniffs the air, his nose scrunching up at the scent. "You smell somethin'?" he questions. "Shit, the dinner!!"

#rdrwriting #the workhorse #fem reader #nsft #female reader #f!reader #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x female reader #estabished relationship #smut #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr fanfic #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic

250 notes · View notes

sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

please don’t go

Ushijima x Reader - Scenario

@moonlightaangel‘s event request: “congrats on reaching 600 followers!! 🥰 can i request ‘please don’t go’ with ushijima, if it hasn’t been requested yet! i need some angsty feelings in my life”

a/n: mmmm angsty Ushijima is my aesthetic :,,)) i also messed around with some flashback formatting, so i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: angst, breakups

wc: 1640

---

“Please don’t go.” It’s a soft, tearful whisper.

“I thought you would understand, y/n. We had established this.” His reply was blunt. Like a dull knife to the chest, digging deeply only to pull right back out, leaving you gushing and writhing at his words.

“Please don’t.” Your cry reached his ears this time.

“I need to focus.” He sighs, twinging with guilt.

Why didn’t you understand? Had you not known that his career would come first? Above everything else?

Or had he misspoken at some point, giving you the false assurance that this relationship would work forever? That he could always treat you as though it were possible to balance both you and his life’s work.

“Then I won’t distract you! Just don’t leave me. Please.” You begged, knees painfully falling to the cold floor, but your cries fell on deaf ears.

He remains resistant to change. Without accommodations. Nothing left to give or take.

“Maybe someday, y/n. But this isn’t working out for me anymore. I have to leave for now.” Ushijima’s response is icy.

He meant for those words to somehow be heartening. Promising, even. That maybe this was just the wrong time and place for a relationship. Where time could ebb and flow and someday he would be able to draw you back into his life.

Yes, there would be a day where you could take priority.

Because he wanted you… but not above his first love. Not above his skills and lifestyle. Not enough.

Volleyball comes first. Plain and simple.

And for that, he wouldn’t compromise.

---

White, crisp linens and fresh lemony scents.

Fluffed pillows fitted with new covers and soft patterns. Feather filled duvets. Curtains drawn to keep out the early morning light.

Everything has stayed clean, clear, and Pristine. Even the dust particles, dancing around the room, have always seemed to find their own peace, settling mildly in gentle formations.

You sleepily blink open your eyes, rustling your arms over the bedspread to what should be a happier sight. Soft pillows hugging your sides, the gentle birdsong outside your window, a conceivably delicious cup of coffee to be made in the kitchen.

Yes, you should be filled with contentment. You were safe. Physically you were fine, and nothing was on your checklist for today.

In fact, things had appeared fine for months now...

Yet all you notice is who’s missing.

There’s no longer a delicate divet where his dozing head used to lay. The scent and shape of the pillow had only recently dissipated thanks to your citrusy laundry detergent and the slow passing of time.

You don’t awaken to a recently showered, olive-green eyed boyfriend. You could still picture the water droplets, hanging freshly on the tips of his tufts of hair. How the towel draped around his neck, over his shoulders, catching the drips and drops as they fell.

That warm smile he shared with you before placing a chaste kiss upon your forehead, caressing the side of your face. It was pure. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips. Still lingering. Mocking you.

You were liberated from his presence… but you never wanted to be.

Being absorbed in his chaotic life had kept you busy, but you had never minded it. There was never a doubt in your mind that volleyball would be his first priority. That he would follow his passions. His plans. His abilities.

You just wanted to tag along. To sincerely celebrate his victories and mourn his losses. Supporting him and holding onto him when he needed it. Yes, he got home late at night, left early in the morning, and only connected with you on his very few off days… but you cherished every second of it.

Because you loved him. You poured your soul into watching him flourish and thrive. It made you feel whole.

However, eventually, to Ushijima, you started to rival volleyball, becoming a distraction. He had made space for you in his already complicated life. And at first, it was a welcome change. A breath of fresh air to his methodical and planned out character. You were complex, bringing new perspective and sunshine into his typically boring apartment. Beautiful in a natural, yet eye-catching way. Furthermore, you somehow knew how to keep up with his hectic pace along with his gruff personality.

In every aspect, you were perfect.

Expect one.

You were a diversion from the life he had in mind.

And even though you never pushed him to give you more… he longed to give you more of his attention. More time. To share his success with you. To love you deeper. To give you what you deserved. Because you are a profound being… and it burdened him to have to choose between his two greatest desires.

But, as most things do, these thoughts of love and devotion go unspoken, coming out all wrong. Mangled, unemotional, and misrepresented. Looking back, Ushijima wishes he’d been able to express it to you with empathy. To erase the tears that followed his brutal narrative. But softness isn’t his strong suit… and he needed you to know that, as powerful as he was, he wasn’t strong enough to balance you and volleyball.

---

“Ushijima, if you leave…” You take a deep breath, tears slipping down your face, “... you have to promise me you’ll never come back.” You choke out, your request came out in a sobering snarl.

For a moment, you question your own words- but your dignity was on the line.

“You can’t just break up with me and expect me to be there when you get back. I’m not disposable, you know?”

His body goes rigid. He hadn’t meant it that way.

You meant more to him than words could express… so why couldn’t he get it out clearly enough? How could he make you understand the gravity of his choices?

“...Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like that. I just need to concentrate right now.” The alarm, though subtle, shines in his eyes.

His usually composed, confident figure began to show cracks of uncertainty. He didn’t want you out of his life… Not at all.

He just needs you out of his mind for the time being. Just until he had things settled. You could come back at some point and he could love you so well. Just the way it was supposed to be.

But clearly he’d struck a deeper chord. He’d selfishly assumed you would wait for him. You weren’t some prized pony.

You’re a person. Someone with worth, plans, and dreams, just like him. He’d failed to acknowledge just how demeaning the truth of his actions were. But it’s too late.

You haven’t replied and the pain is etched intricately across your face.

“Okay, fine.” He breathes in deeply, letting out one final exhalation of defeat, “I... I’m sorry, y/n.” His brows furrow in deep, conflicted thought, but his mind is made.

He won’t be back.

---

Ushijima’s life hasn’t changed much.

It’s the same old routine. The standard, grueling workouts. Typical volleyball practice, group meetings, finances, paychecks, physicals, doctor’s appointments, fan meet-n-greets.

The usual.

But there’s a void settling like glacial frost in his soul. A snowy blue that seemed to melt into his bones, slowing him down.

He didn’t go a week… a day... a minute without thinking of you.

Even now, lying in bed, the room cloaked in a tranquil darkness, you rest on his mind.

It’s not just the emptiness of the bed or the lack of physical touch. It’s the bitter, clawing memories of what he’d done to you and your gentle spirit. His body is frigid and forever frozen in the recurring visions of his foolish explanations, by how heartless and indifferent he’d seemed.

He’ll never get over the venomous tinge to your words.

You’d felt used.

He’d never meant to make you feel that way.

But since he moved out of your apartment, everything has felt glaringly hollow. The icy, barren tundra he crosses every time he realizes he won’t come home to your sunbeam smile and those thoughtfully lit candles, wears on him. How you would lavish him in comforting words, lulling him into a restful sleep.

Ushijima hardly remembers the last time he slept well.

Those dark circles under his eyes follow him everywhere. His whole team can see the exhaustion seeping into his execution of serves and spikes. He’s never struggled with his game performance before, but somehow the crashing reality of you leaving him has broken his patterns and systems.

He’s weary from searching for an answer to his emotions. Your warmth gave him life… and with that gone, what was the point of all of this?

And then it struck him, the realization sinking its needle-sharp claws into his soul, shredding it in seconds.

He’d found something far more valuable than any unique skill. More remarkable than the legacy he’d built as a world-class volleyball player. Someone who wanted to be with him just for the sake of… love.

And for the first time since he was young, he lets a tear slip into his white pillowcase.

Just one.

But it’s for you.

Because in chasing after what made him feel known and alive...

He’d lost the only person who had ever wanted to show him that he was important all along. The only person who was satisfied with his bizarre schedules. Someone who expected nothing more than gentle kisses and weekend dates.

But you were right.

You aren’t dispensable. Nor are you someone to drop for the purpose of picking up later, like loose change on a sidewalk. You deserved to be cherished. Held tightly. Given the love that you offered others.

He wishes he’d listened when you’d pleaded with him to stay. That he’d thought it through and functioned on more than just logic and reasoning. If only he’d known what it really meant to choose you.

Because if you were here now, he’d be the one begging,

“Please don’t go.”

---

tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin

(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima #hq #ushijima scenarios #ushijima imagine #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #hq ushijima #hq scenarios #hq imagines #shiratorizawa #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fanfiction #600 follower event #sneezefiction

1K notes · View notes

yikesharringrove · 3 years

Text

Show Pony

Chapter 2: Legends Never Die

Read on Ao3

Billy was watching porn when Steve texted.

He’s never clicked out of a video so fucking fast in his life.

The message just read hey, this is steve :) which like, of course, the fucker uses little emoticons. Of course , he types out little smiley faces. It’s so dumb. It’s so cute.

And Billy just stared at it. One hand still on his dick, the other hovering over the keyboard.

What the fuck does he reply?

Obviously, Steve knows it’s Billy. Like. Duh.

So he just tapped out a little Hey.

Steve texted back almost immediately.

you have a good day? Billy found himself grinning maniacally, so he rolled over to hold his pillow close to his chest, burying his chin into it. He didn’t wanna deal with the fact that this stupid adorable cowboy was making him smile and flush. Stupid.

Yeah, it was nice. Way too hot, but nice.

lol try wearing jeans in that heat. sweatin through my damn saddle. Billy laughed into his pillow.

Jesus, you’re such a fuckin hick. Billy bit his tongue when he pressed send.

And Steve just sent back >:(. And God. He’s so cute. Billy. Hates him.

And then Billy’s phone buzzed twice, another brand new text from Steve.

One that made Billy’s heart fucking stop.

i have the day off tomorrow. no tiedown on the schedule. you should come by and we could hang

Which sounded like. A date. It sounded like a fucking date. And Billy wanted to ask. If Steve’s invitation was for a goddamn date.

But like, he can’t just ask. Can he? Is that weird? Okay, maybe he’ll just-

Should I bring Max?

Right? Like if Steve says to bring his little sister, then there’s no way it’s a date. Because, who would want their date to bring their little sister? People who are just hanging out as friends, that’s who.

was hoping it'd just be you and me

And hoo boy. Hoo boy. That’s. That’s a fucking. That’s a date.

Then yeah. Just you and me.

And Steve sent him another little :) because the fucker loves his emoticon smiley faces. They’re not even, like, actual emojis. Steve doesn’t take the time to use fucking apostrophes, but he does type out little faces.

And maybe Billy’s spending too much time thinking about the smiley little shits.

But, like. It’s just. It’s Steve. And it’s a cute fucking thing that Steve does.

Billy’s pretty much obsessed with him by now.

And maybe Billy should ask for, like, a time to meet. But he was halfway through a video and his cock’s still hard and kinda starting to ache, pressed against the mattress where it was. He rolled over, slid his hand back into his shorts, and wrapped his fingers around the base of himself.

So it’s easy just to, slide it up. Run his fingers along his length. Pretend his rough hand is Steve’s rough hand. Pretend the tight vice grip is Steve’s mouth. Hot and slick around him.

He could picture Steve, on his knees in the dirt, those tight fucking jeans beginning to stain at the knees, those big pretty eyes looking at him so reverently, so softly.

And he came all over his hand, pictured those pink pretty lips covered with cum. Imagined scooping it on his fingers, pressing them into Steve’s mouth, making him lick them clean.

It wasn’t even the most depraved fantasy Billy’s ever had. But it was for sure in his top five best orgasms. No doubt about it.

He wiped his hand on the sheets, turning onto his side, staring at the short little conversation with Steve.

Thinking about their fucking date tomorrow.

Max was on his ass the second he woke up.

She cornered him as he was coming out of the bathroom, making him startle and nearly smack her.

“The fuck you doing out here, Shitbrid?”

“What are we doing today?”

“ We aren’t doing shit all. I will be heading out. Soon.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, jutting her jaw in a way he absolutely knows she learned from him.

“Are you going to the rodeo?” she hissed through her teeth at him. “Are you going to see-”

“That’s none ‘a your fuckin’ business.” He pushed past her, lumbering down the hall, almost making it into his bedroom before she slipped inside with him, slapping his elbow and kicking the door closed.

“Are you going on a date ?”

Billy glared at her. He clenched his jaw, speaking through gritted teeth.

“Pretty sure we agreed not to fucking talk about this shit here.”

She pursed her lips, shifting her jaw.

“Just nod or shake your head.”

Billy kept his head very still.

She kicked him once in the shin before stomping out of his room, nearly slamming the door, catching it at the last minute, and closing it quietly.

Neil didn’t approve of doors slamming in his house.

It was rule number. Three probably. First rule was don’t be a smartass. Second rule was don’t be Billy. That was kind of an unspoken rule. But it was there.

And Billy was faced with his newest dilemma.

What does he wear?

Because it’s gonna be another hot fucking day, and his typical date outfits have more, more.

He’s got one clean pair of cut-offs left. Okay. Yes. And he puts on a printed button-up shirt. Leaves it almost all the way unbuttoned, because, like, of course, he does. He’s got a good body. He wants Steve to see it.

He’ll be mostly cool, and he looks better than he did last time he saw Steve.

Black Converse complete the look, and he maybe spends more time than he usually would putting his hair into a ponytail, using one of Max’s bright scrunchies.

She’ll get pissed if she notices it but. Whatever. He steals them from her all the fucking time.

He hasn’t looked at his phone all morning, figured he could head over to the rodeo, and whenever Steve texted, he’d play it cool and act like he wasn’t already there.

But, cowboy hick Steve was obviously an early riser. As the most recent text Billy has is from that cowboy hick Steve. At six. In the morning.

you wanna meet up around ten?

It was currently just past nine.

Does Billy head up there now and wander around the grounds for a bit?

Yes. Yes, he does. Because frankly, he looks gay as fuck in this outfit and he should probably dip before his dad sees.

He sends Steve a thumbs up and the three dots show up almost immediately, showing Steve typing.

you got a car right? can you pick me up outside of the parking lot? i gotta get outta here

And Fuck. Billy knows that feeling.

No problem. You wanna get breakfast? I know a good diner if you’re into that kinda thing.

hell yeah im into that :)

Ah, yes. There was that little happy face just in time to give Billy lots of nice heart palpitations.

Great. That’s what he needs. To get sappy and gross over Steve’s emoticons. Again.

He slipped out of his house without interference, taking a lap around the block just to kill time before setting off to the fairgrounds.

He was trying to make his car look presentable, shoving the few gum wrappers Max left by the gear shift into his pocket, brushing off any stray cigarette ash with one of the baby wipes in the glove box.

And by the time he reached the fairgrounds, he saw Steve skulking along the front of the parking lot, hopping over cracks in the sidewalk like the cutest little bunny.

It was the most adorable thing in the fucking world.

Billy pulled up next to him, blaring the horn and watching Steve startle at the sound.

He was wearing cut-off denim shorts like Billy’s, and a goddamn crop top. It had the silhouette of a horse on its hind legs, its mane flowing in the wind behind it, and Harrington American Rodeo brandished across his chest. It was cut just at his waistline, where his body nipped in right above his hips.

Steve smiled his pretty smile at Billy, just about skipping around the front of the car to slide into the passenger seat.

And Billy tried not to think about how fucking good Steve looked in the passenger seat of his car, those long fucking legs all on display, his thighs, thick and pale, covered in dark hair.

“Hi,” Steve was leaning with one elbow on the center console, putting himself in Billy’s space, and Billy was thankful for his dark aviator sunglasses, as his eyes went wide and probably panicked with Steve moving in so close.

Because if Steve was leaning in to kiss him, that kinda feels like a lot. And Billy’s not a prude, not by any means but he's, he’s got lines, and rules, and-

Steve just knocked his head into Billy’s shoulder, leaning back to buckle his seatbelt, like headbutting Billy’s shoulder was casual and normal.

And fuck.

Billy’s in so deep for this guy he barely fucking knows.

All he could do was push the car forward, and will away the flush on his cheeks. And pretend like he hadn’t jerked off to the person sitting next to him less than twelve hours ago.

“So. Billy. Tell me about yourself.” Steve shifted in his seat, turning to look right at Billy. “All I know is that you’ve got a kid sister, a cool car, and that you’re really hot.”

Billy smirked, turning to look at Steve over his glasses, found Steve biting his bottom lip demurely.

“Well, there’s not much else to know .”

“Oh, come on. Where are you from? How old are you? Shit, probably shoulda asked that sooner. Please, tell me you’re not fifteen or something.”

“I’m literally driving, right now. And relax, Pretty Boy. I’m eighteen next month.”

“Okay. Okay, good. I’m eighteen, by the way. Just so you know, that I’m not fifteen.” Billy shook his head, rolling his eyes with a smile. “But I still want answers to the other questions.”

“Well, I’m from here. Born and raised in San Diego. Uh, I graduated high school in May. And I work at the diner I’m about to take you to, which might be the lamest shit in the world, but they have good pancakes.”

“I like pancakes.” Steve was fiddling with some of the knobs in the car, turning the air conditioner up and down. Billy was just resisting slapping his hand away.

And then he reached for the volume knob on the radio, turning up the Ratt Billy had playing, and audibly scoffed.

“God, I should’ve known you liked this .”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Just, you know. Sex charged drug-fueled hair metal.”

“Oh my God. What in the fuck ?” He gave Steve as incredulous a look as he could muster. “Are you a housewife from the fifties?”

Steve gave one of his excellent bright laughs at Billy, and Billy’s gut got a little bit gay and a little bit fluttery.

“Alright, Stevie. I’ll bite. What kinda music are you into? And if you say country I’m blowing my fuckin’ brains out.”

“Well, unfortunate then because, yeah. Fuckin’ country, man. Although, I prefer folk.”

“See, you call my music sex-charged and drug-fueled, at least I’m not listening to posers rant about their tractors.”

“Oh, no. I hate that shit as much as you do. I mean like, Johnny Cash. Willie Nelson, you know? Emmylou Harris, Marty Robbins, Miss Dolly. The good stuff. There’s like, a few modern artists that are doing the same kinda thing that I like. It’s all just stories and good music.”

“That’s all my music is. Stories set to music. And, you say my shit is drug-fueled, you do know that Willie Nelson is famous for being a stoner? And that Johnny Cash publicly dealt with addiction and all that?”

“Well, yeah, but they’ve got class.”

“Okay, Cowboy. I’ll let you die on that fuckin’ hill while I party it up on mine to some eighties metal.”

And Steve reached out to shove Billy lightly, laughing while he did it.

“Agree to fucking disagree then. Just take me to pancakes and don’t try to reason with me about shitty music.”

“Then change the subject. Tell me other things about you besides your terrible music taste.”

Steve leaned back in his seat, blowing out a puff of air.

“Uh, I mean. Jeez. I don’t do much besides the rodeo, you know? Just movin’ all over the country.”

“That must be. Exhausting.”

Steve reached out to brush his fingers against the dashboard mindlessly.

“It’s not so bad. I try to make friends in the towns, you know? Makes it kinda fun.”

“Where were you born?”

“Indiana. Really small town. My mom and I stayed there for three years while my father traveled around. I’ve been on the road since.”

“Holy shit. Since you were three? Did you, like, go to school?”

“No. Uh, I actually have a tutor that’s on the road with us, and I’m. You know. Supposed to get my high school diploma soon. I’m behind schedule since,” he waved his hand flippantly. He was staring at his lap, playing with the frayed hem of his shorts. And Billy was grasping for another subject as Steve’s cheeks went red. Because obviously school, had struck a nerve.

“What kinda horse is June?”

“She’s an American quarter horse. That’s the usual type for most rodeo events. They’re good ranch horses because they’re a little more compact. I’ve been with June for five years now, and she’s a beast. I’ve got two others with me, on rotation so that none of them get too tired doing the shows over and over. June, Patsy, and Loretta. They’re all quarter horses, and each one is only about fourteen and a half hands tall. I like my horses a bit smaller for tie-down.”

“I understood, honestly, like, nothing of what you just said.”

Steve tossed his head back, laughing loudly over the radio at Billy’s confusion.

He laughed a lot.

Billy liked it.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you rodeo slang. You’ll be a natural,” Steve said, reaching out to where Billy’s right hand was resting on the gearshift, wrapping his finger’s around Billy’s wrist.

“What about their names?”

“All ladies of country. Loretta Lynn, Patsy Cline, and June Carter. Carter-Cash, I guess. She married Johnny but had a career in her own right.”

“Jesus, you’re a fuckin’ hick.”

“You’ve said that before. Just because I’m in the rodeo-”

“No, it’s because you’re in the rodeo, and listen to country music, and wear fucking cowboy boots -”

“They are literally made for riding horses, okay? That’s why they were invented .”

Billy rolled his eyes again, but he was smiling brightly as he pulled into the diner parking lot.

It wasn’t too busy for a Sunday morning. Billy bets it’ll pick up in an hour or so for the brunch crowd.

He began working at the diner three years ago, bussing tables and washing dishes, getting paid under the table because technically, he was too young to work. He was a server now, usually taking the evening dinner shifts to miss that time when his dad was home from work.

The bell jingled above their heads as Billy held the door open for Steve, and Billy stuck his tongue out at the kitchen staff, leaning over the counter to swipe a few menus from the stack.

He led Steve to a booth in the back corner, waving at Lorraine, the older woman who was working their section, gesturing to the booth for Steve to take a seat.

“Wow. You’ve totally got this place on lock.”

Billy grinned at him, leaning against the wall to stretch his legs up on the booth next to him.

“I’ve worked here a few years. Kinda done all the staff positions. It’s a nice place.”

“Well, then what do you recommend?” Steve carefully opened the laminated menu, his big eyes flicking over the pictures on the side of every dish.

“Pancakes are good, so are the waffles though, if you’re into that. I like the full breakfast. Eggs, bacon or sausage, hash browns, pancakes, or toast. Kinda the best of everything.”

Steve snapped his menu shut, smiling softly at Billy.

“I’m trusting you with my breakfast here. It better be good .”

Lorraine approached their table, already pouring Billy a cup of coffee and sliding it to him along the table.

“You really love us that much you find your way in here on your day off?”

“Only you, Lorraine. Everybody else can fuck off for all I care.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes at Billy.

“You want the usual cook-up?”

“Yes, please.”

She took his unopened menu, turning and smiling brightly at Steve.

“What can I get for you, Darling.”

Steve’s eyes were wide when he looked up at her, his cheeks starting to flush.

“Uh, just, the same as Billy, please.”

“You want a coffee?”

“No, Ma’am. Just a water for me please.” He handed his menu back, giving her a bright smile, his cheeks a soft rosy red.

Lorraine winked at Billy, nodding her head once in Steve’s general direction. Billy waved her off before she could say something embarrassing.

“Sorry, I get kinda weird sometimes.” Steve had pulled a napkin out of the dispenser on their table and was looking down at it, tearing off little chunks and rolling them into balls.

“That’s okay. Lorraine gets it. Plus, you were polite, and that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t be caught dead with you if you were an ass to servers.”

“Oh, God. My dad is such an ass when it comes to, really any staff. Like, servers, or, frankly, most of the people that work for him. Don’t even get me started on the animal carers. I mean, that’s probably the most important job at the whole rodeo, and he’s been trying to dock pay left, right, and fucking center.” Steve rolled his big eyes, huffing like Max.

“Wait, so your dad is like, the head of the whole operation?”

“My name is Steve Harrington,” and Steve pointed at his shirt, the name Harrington emblazoned over the horse.

“Oh damn. I thought that name was familiar when I saw the shirt. Figured I had just seen the rodeo name or something.”

“Nope. That’s me. A whole Harrington. My great-grandpa started the rodeo. He was, like, an actual ranch hand. Started one in the town we’re from. My grandpa was the one who got the idea to take it on the road. My dad came up through it like I did. He was in steer roping. And basically, his end goal is that I start running the whole show in a few years. Take over for him.”

“And, you don’t want to?”

“Nah. I don’t really have a brain for business. Don’t have a brain for much other than riding and tie-down, honestly. Don’t know the first thing about how to run a traveling rodeo.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

Steve smiled at him, but his eyes seemed sad, and his smile was tight.

“You got plans for next year? College or anything?”

“Nah. I think college is, on the horizon, but I’m taking a gap year. Saving up to move out and pay for school and everything. Probably gonna go to community college to save some money. And then maybe grad school?”

“That’s smart, you know? Finding ways to save up. My dad is debating pushing college on me. Like, if I do run the business, there’s some shit I should know going into it, right? But I think he also sees that I’m way too dumb for college, and, like, I don’t need a degree to get hired. I’ll just,” Steve made an upwards sweeping gesture with his right hand. A gesture that Billy understood to vaguely mean nepotism.

“What would you rather do? If not run the thing.”

“I like tie-down, and I could feasibly do it for a long time. I could branch into other events, too, like steer roping and all that. Same idea as calf roping but a different animal. Literally. It’s a steer. But I’d be content just doing the events until I croak. I have absolutely no desire to rise through the ranks, or whatever.” Steve rolled his eyes, balling up the little napkin wads he had made into another napkin from the dispenser. Billy appreciated it. He’s had to clean up crap like that from this very floor. “I just love being around the rodeo. The animals and all the people. I don’t really wanna be anywhere else.”

“At least you have something you love. Like, you’d be happy to do that for the rest of your life, and not in an I’ve got nothing better to do way, but in an, I’m passionate about this way. A lot of people don’t really. Get that.” Billy included.

It’s not that he doesn’t have passions, it’s just that they’re not necessarily sustainable to him.

He knows he’s dangling by a thread with his father. Knows after his eighteenth birthday, he should be ready to be kicked out or asked to pay rent at any time. He needs a career that’ll get him some fucking money if he wants to get out and cut off his dad entirely. He can’t be forced to go crawling back to him because he wanted to self-publish his gay ass poetry that never took off or drum in a rock band that went nowhere.

To name a few.

“Yeah, I mean. Sometimes I think that I probably would’ve never set foot in a rodeo if I wasn’t literally born into one, so I kinda wonder who I’d be if this wasn’t everything I knew, but I still really love doing it, and it’s something that I’m actually good at, which speaks volumes.”

They were interrupted by Lorraine returning, placing two identical plates in front of them, a glass of water for Steve, and pulling hot sauce and ketchup out of her apron pocket.

“You two let me know if you need anything else.”

Steve beamed at her, thanking her softly and Billy’s heart fluttered like a stupid idiot.

They tucked in, Steve shoving food into his mouth until his cheeks were bulging, chewing aggressively. It made Billy laugh and nearly spew coffee all over the table.

“I figured you’d have better manners, being the heir to a rodeo dynasty or whatever.”

Steve pulled a face, showing Billy the chewed-up food in his mouth.

“How’s that for manners?”

It was actually fucking funny watching him try to swallow everything stuffed in his mouth.

“It’s borderline painful watching you eat.”

Billy laughed as Steve flicked a piece of scrambled egg at him. It landed on his shoulder. Billy slurped it right off his shirt.

“See! Now, who's the one with no table manners?”

“Still you, Sugar. Still you.”

Breakfast was, like, actually fun.

Not that Billy was expecting it to be shitty, but he wasn’t expecting it to be as carefree, as easy, as it was. He and Steve just, kinda, clicked.

Steve was easy to talk to. He was easy to listen to, easy to laugh with, and even easier to look at.

He’s kinda, everything Billy has ever wanted in a person.

He slid his hand into Billy’s as they were leaving the diner, smiling shyly at Billy when he looked over at him.

And Billy stopped in his tracks, right there in broad daylight, tugging Steve by his hand closer to Billy’s body, sliding his hands up his arms, feeling over Steve’s shoulders, and down his back to settle on his hips. Steve wrapped both arms around Billy’s shoulders, leaning closer to him, almost pressing his whole body against Billy’s.

And it was easy. Kissing Steve was just as easy as talking to him, as laughing with him, as looking at him. It was simple and nice and made Billy feel something he really didn’t want to put too much thought into.

Something that was decidedly not easy.

They pulled away from one another, both their lips red and slick.

Billy opened the passenger door, and Steve folded himself into the seat with a ridiculous amount of grace.

And as Billy drove them aimlessly through the city, he tried not to think of the expiration date on this whole thing, on the dates listed on the back of Steve’s t-shirt.

They’ve got a little under a month together.

And Billy was determined to make that the best goddamn month of both of their natural lives.

#yikes writes #show pony #rodeo au #lemons #i got hit with a fat wall of Sad and decided to post ch 2 to see if i get a lil serotonin from the response #we will SEE #harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove

81 notes · View notes

notmrskennedy · 4 years

Text

The List

(Spencer Reid x GenderNeutral?Reader)

A/N - In order to curb the crushing weight of being bested by a vacuum cleaner at work and stressing about my calc test, I’m posting this. I hope you all like it as much as the last one. Y’all are just the fuckin sweetest.

Also, this was inspired by @definitelynotkatesblog and her awesome work Something to Cry About. It’s the cutest freakin thing.

Summary - A little list on what makes Reader fall asleep at night...

Word Count - 2.2k

Warnings - swearing, but what’s new?

----

1. A Podcast Episode on Epicurus and the Hellenistic Age

“Spencer, christ,” you laugh, fluffing your curls. “I can assure you that I am not touchy and sharing a bed won’t kill us.”

Spencer fidgets in his spot in the doorway, crossing his arms to keep from shaking too much. Is it wrong to be jealous of your casualness surrounding this? Is it wrong to wish away that massive crush he’s got? Just at least for one night—pretty please with a cherry on top.

You wait with a half raised eyebrow at the side of the bed he clearly doesn’t sleep on. Your hand poised above the comforter like it’ll make his decision any quicker. Like you can’t see the turmoil that has to be written across his face.

Because what does this mean? What does it mean to sleep in the same bed with your best friend for the first time? What if you end up snuggled up in the morning? Is that bad? Is that good? Is he totally secretly wishing that’ll happen and spur you in falling in love with him just as much as he’s fallen for you?

He glances one more time between your calm eyes, the made bed, the clock, the giant college t-shirt you’re wearing, finally back to your face. He nods. Adds in a dash of blushing. A teaspoon of agreeing words.

You shake your head, smile at him like he’s an idiot—though he supposes he is with you—and wrench the covers back. Like you belong. He wants you to belong.

There’s still time to back out and sleep on the couch. Does he really want to?

He wills his feet forward. Tries to tell himself that this is just like every night. Sets his watch on the nightstand, plugs his phone in, slips into the covers.

“Hey, bud?”

He hums as he turns his head to look over at you. He’s still sat up in bed, hand poised over his stack of books. Are you going to tell him to turn out the light?

You smile, shifting your weight ever so slightly. You’re the restless sort and he wonders how you work the boring middle management job that you do. Pulling your lips back into a nervous smile, you gently say, “I can’t fall asleep to the quiet, do you mind if—“

“Do you want me to read to you?”

He hopes the excitement goes unnoticed. It seems to as you chuckle. “I wish it would work. You’re too interesting, Spencer Reid. Podcasts on Hellenistic philosophy however—do you mind if I listen? It won’t be too loud.”

He shakes his head. “Not at all.” Never for you.

“Thanks, Spence,” you chirp through a stifled yawn. And as you turn the podcast on and flip over to press tightly onto the pillow, you say, “and don’t worry. I promise I keep to my side of the bed.”

And unlike the liar he wishes you are, he wakes up to find that you are very true to your word.

2. Discovery Chanel, Documentary on Revolving Door Manufacturing

He’s never seen you cry before. You make it a point to keep saying between sobs, “I hate crying in front of other people. I’m so sorry.”

He can’t fathom why it’s you that’s sorry, not after you asked him to pick you up from your mother’s. The same mother who’s apparently found it within her purview to explain just how much she hates you over a nice dinner. He’s buzzing with anger on your behalf—anger that clearly isn’t shared, though he knows it’ll come later.

It takes roughly 20 minutes to get you over the hill, trading tears for tissues. Snot for begrudging smiles at his bad jokes. He’s promised himself that he will listen—for once in his goddamn life—to your whole story without interrupting. You seem to appreciate the sentiment, punctuating the whole experience with asking for one of those hugs that just never ends.

You try to explain it—“like cats, Spencer, you know?”—like he doesn’t already empathise completely.

And weirdly enough, it gets to a point where you two switch positions without breaking the crushing amount of contact you have. It gets to a point where you insist on watching the most boring documentary he’s ever seen on revolving door manufacturing. It gets to a point where you pass out after 15 minutes and turn over into his chest.

He doesn’t dare move. Not until he’s effectively sure you won’t be waking up anytime soon. Spencer falls asleep with your soft breath fanning across his chest and his hands tangled in your hair.

5. A Librivox Recording of ‘The Five Orange Pips’

Now this is ridiculous. And he says as much as you roll your eyes. You’re both sweaty and exhausted and he’s sure he’s never met someone who looked this awake after a romp at one AM. Your eyes are twinkling the same way someone does after they’ve run a mile and feel like they need to run another. You’ve got energy and he can’t fathom it.

“Spencer,” you whine, falling back into the bedsheets. It’s really the first official time you’ve spent at his house as more than a friend—much more. He’s gotten accustomed, understanding even, to the little podcasts you listen to to fall asleep. There’s no sense in understanding your sleeping habits, not yet at least, but he understands the boring, droning voices you let lull you to sleep.

But this! Sherlock Holmes?

“Y/n, I literally have the story on my bookshelf. I could read it to you if you’re so choosy!” he mirrors your position with a huff, already reaching out to drag you over into his side. The feel of your skin is addictive. The safest kind of high he can get. The only one he really wants.

You pout, sticking out your lip. It’s adorable and breaks the tweak of frustration resting hard in his features. “Love-bug, with you talking to me, I’d never fall asleep. It just doesn’t work like that and I don’t make the rules.”

“Fine,” he mutters, effectively pulling you close enough you can share the one pillow. You giggle, kiss his nose, and reach behind you for your phone. It takes five seconds for the Librivox recording to start and he realises that as he listens to the intro, he’s already dropping off. It’s understandable—he guesses—but he hopes that one day you’ll pick a story he hasn’t read already.

9. News in Slow Spanish

Listening to you get ready for bed will never be tiring, Spencer thinks. Not when he’s playing a game with himself. He’s so terrible at guessing what you’ll choose to listen to. There’s never any rhyme or reason. Never a solid thought process that he can decipher. He’s kept to making a list—half because he likes lists, half because he wonders how long it’ll get.

Four months in and he’s at number 9—more or less.

This one shocks him though. Has him poking his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush still stuck in his mouth. You’re pulling your hair out of a pony tail, humming along to the intro music for a newscast in Spanish. Do you speak Spanish?

“Sugar plum—“ he loves every weird nickname you’ve given him over the months— “I can hear the whine of your brain from here.”

It’s then you turn to really look at him. Smirking. Gleaming in the shadows of the bathroom light. Wearing nothing more than a sports bra and shorts. His mouth runs dry as he tries to keep his thoughts present and clean.

He takes the toothbrush from his mouth. You giggle as he speaks through the spit. “Do you speak Spanish?”

“I must not talk about work enough,” you mutter to yourself, slipping into bed. Like you belong. “My entire job is setting up relationships between the hotel company I work for and Latin American, well, anything. Hotels, river cruises, restaurants—I speak Spanish more than I do English some weeks.”

He nods, finishes brushing his teeth to process the thought. No, you don’t talk about work enough, and he’s suddenly worried about what you don’t talk about. It suddenly feels suffocating. Like he doesn’t know a single thing about you. Like he’s never known anything about you.

But as you drag yourself into his side once he’s beside you, as you kiss his cheek and settle in, he’s reminded that he doesn’t need to know everything to care. For you to care back. There’s enough time in the world to figure out all the other stuff. He’s content to learn as it comes. Appreciate every new thing he can get his hands on.

And, hey, if you listen to this podcast enough, he might learn Spanish too.

11. Whose Line is it Anyway? Reruns

“No, absolutely not. I’m putting the kibosh on this. The applause will drive me wild. Please, y/n, anything else.”

15. Spencer

If there hadn’t been a nightmare involved, it wouldn’t have been as terrifying to find you not in bed. To hear the door latch click with someone’s arrival. Or someone’s departure.

He’s out of bed before he can process. Before his brain can calm down enough to remind him that it’s fine. That there’s no way a burglar is going to be as loud as you’re being in the next room over.

He jumps out of the bedroom, ready to strangle the intruder with his bare hands, when you give a startled shout, “Jesus christ!”

Spencer settles. Realises that it’s just you in a sweatshirt and slippers. You look utterly exhausted in the dim light of the apartment. Fidgeting and restless despite the slump to your shoulders. He vaguely wonders if he should make you a pot of coffee to calm you down.

The world catches up to him and he slumps into the wall. Is it so wrong to be this decidedly tired after a nightmare that he could’ve sworn wasn’t coming back? The two of you stare each other down, both equally apprehensive to the other for decidedly similar reasons.

Spencer’s entire body is beginning to light on fire. He doesn’t want to burn you in the process.

You’re buzzing and tired and angry and there’s no reason to take any of that out on him.

“Can’t sleep?” he finally prompts.

You scrub your hands over your face, fluff your curls, in response. “I walked the stairs four times, bug. I’m so—“

“Frustrated?”

“Yes.”

He nods his head, waves you over. You half heartedly trudge over to him, lean your head into his chest and feel at least a tiny amount of frustration drift away. He pulls you both back to bed—he can’t believe he’s functioning this well, but maybe it’s just because he’s fulfilling the need to think about anything else. There’s a hesitance as you lay back down and he knows that you’ve probably tried everything. That you don’t believe you’ll get any sleep at 2:45 in the morning.

“You’ve worked through the list then?” he asks. Your eyebrows pinch as you settle onto your side, giving him your full attention. “The things that make you fall asleep,” he clarifies, “you know, that list.”

“Do you—do you keep a list?” your voice is almost judgemental, but decidedly too curious. He nods. “I’ve never had anyone care that much.”

“So where are you at?” he says instead. There’s too much to unpack. Too much for his still swimming brain. He needs something concrete. “What’ve you tried?”

You go through your list, letting every inch of agony you’ve faced for the last four hours creep over your face. Spencer watches as you turn over one more time and groan into the pillow. “I think I’d rather just suffocate at this rate.”

He chuckles. “Stop being dramatic. Come here, let me try something.”

“But—“

“Just—please, y/n?” he doesn’t understand your refusal to trust him sometimes—it’s always about such strange things, like how he does the dishes or what brand of milk to buy. You scoot over to him, settle into his chest with an indignant huff. As if you aren’t tightening around him like a vice.

He clears his throat, drags his fingers softly up and down your spine, and picks the most boring thing—for you at least—he can think of to recite: quantum physics. He feels you relax after a minute. Your eyes close and your nose sinks a little deeper into his shirt. It takes nearly two chapters to get you to zonk out. Long enough that he’s worried you were right, that he was just too interesting for you. Even if he was reciting quantum physics literature.

He keeps droning for a little time after he thinks you must be—have to be—asleep. And just as he settles, just as his eyes are closing and he could drift off peacefully, he doesn’t miss the ever quiet, ever gentle words, “You’re too interesting, Spence, too goddamn interesting.”

You roll over, your back pressed against his side. He wants to laugh. He doesn’t, just ends up dreaming of something nearly as peaceful as falling asleep beside you.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #reid #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #Criminal Minds

192 notes · View notes

secretlynestaarcheron · 4 years

Text

Nesta Ballerina AU ~ should I write a one shot??

One shot:

Nesta stretched her arms above her head, before plopping them back on the comforter, yawning as she opened her eyes squinting at the beam of light peeking through her tiny window. She rips of the comforter, throwing her legs at the side, a new wave of excitement rushing through her.

She throws on a sweater and slips on her slippers as she pushes open the door of her room and enters the kitchen, living room, office, dance studio combo. Mor was already up, moving around the kitchen, bopping her head to the music that was playing from her phone.

“It’s show day!” Nesta yells.

Mor jumps turning to see Nesta. “It’s show day!” Mor screams back, jumping up and down. They had moved to New York together four years ago, going to school to be professional ballerinas, and then auditioning for company after company until they finally got in. “Celebratory pancakes?”

Nesta smiles as she slides onto one of the bar stools as Mor slides a plate in front of her. “Any news about the boyfriend?” Mor asks, stuffing a fork full of pancake into her mouth.

Nesta frowns, reaching forward to grab the jar of syrup, squeezing a little bit on top. She shrugs, “It’s not a big deal, he called me last night,” Nesta says, pushing her food around, “He couldn’t get off work, some important meeting tonight. He’s going to try and come next week.”

Mor bites her lip, reaching over to squeeze her hand, before pulling back and going back to her pancakes. “Issa okay, it’ll be so busy today, you won’t even miss him,” she replies. “I think almond milk lattes from Beans and then we head to the theater early and check everything out.”

Nesta nods, she was going to need all the coffee she can get, their director Amara wanted to do a few more run throughs of the show to touch up any mistakes before the first showing. Nesta’s ankles already ached from yesterday's rehearsal.

“So Rhysand and Azriel are both coming,” Mor responds, looking down at her phone. “Feyre is coming straight after work. I think she’s bringing her loser boyfriend, Tamlin or whatever. Elain and Lucien found a babysitter so they are coming. I haven’t heard from Amren.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “I called her yesterday, she's coming. She just wanted to pull on your strings.”

There’s a knock on the door and Mor twirls as she moves towards it, Nesta pulling her phone out from her pocket to see a text from Cassian. Good luck tonight, beat all those other bunheads. She smiles, he meant well but as a professional hockey player he didn’t really get the whole non-competing thing.

“I think these are for you,” Mor sing-songs. Nesta quickly hits send on her message back and looks up at Mor who was holding a boutique of flowers. Nesta jumps out of her seat and grabs the flowers, looking for the card. Cassian.

She smiles, “Take a pic of me? I’ll send it to him,” she responds.

Mor grabs Nesta’s phone and snaps a picture. “Okay, now hurry up,” Mor replies, “I don’t want to be late.”

Nesta rolls her eyes as her friend pushes her into her room. “You don’t want to be late to get to the theater early?” she deadpans. Mor gives her a look before slamming the door. Nesta chuckles, sending the picture to Cassian. I’d rather have you but the flowers were a nice touch.

She hits send before putting on her leotard, slipping on a skirt and sweater, she slides on some boots before heading back out into the living room. “Look at this sweet video Elain sent me on snapchat,” Mor says, handing me the phone, it was Nesta niece in a tutu dancing around the living room. “I can’t believe it’s real, I feel like someone needs to pitch me and I’ll wake back up in small town Prythian, Rhode Island in Night Court Dance Studio.”

“Stars, remember how many times Feyre would get yelled at by Morta Queen?” Nesta asks as she grabs her dance bag and wallet and they make their way out of their crabby little apartment and down the narrow hall towards the exit. “She was so uncoordinated.”

Mor laughs as they move down the stairs and onto the busy street, squeezing through the people towards the coffee shop between their apartment and the theater. “And how Morta Queen used to bring her cat to rehearsals, she always wondered why our tights would always be ripped up,” Mor laughs as they clumsily fall into the door of the shop.

“Nesta! Mor! How nervous are you?” the barista behind the counter asks. “I can’t wait to see you guys perform, got my tickets for two weekends from now.”

Mor smiles and goes on a rant about how excited and nervous she is while Nesta can’t help but feel incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many people that loved and supported her. She looks down at her phone, Cassian hadn’t responded to her last message but he was probably in his meeting.

She was hoping to call him before the show but as Mor thrusts a coffee in her hand and pulls the other out the door she knows that's a long shot. The halls are already bustling with chatter as they move towards their dressing room. Tutus and leotards littering the hall, the halls foggy from hairspray.

“I told you we would be late to be early,” Mor says, giving Nesta a pointed look as they move into the dressing room. Two girls are already inside breaking in their pointe shoes. One of them looks up and smiles, “Amara is already on a rampage, I’d get into practice gear quick,” she warns.

Nesta downs her coffee before grabbing her pointe shoes from her bag and following Mor out onto the stage.

A long draining couple of hours later, Mor and Nesta make their way back into the dressing room falling onto the couch. “No....energy,” Mor groans, her face pushed against a pillow. “My blisters have blisters.”

“Tell me about it,” Nesta says, falling into one of the makeup chairs and rubbing her feet. “Amara said we have ten minutes to get dressed and then be in hair and makeup so I am-,”

“Going to go call the boyfriend?” Mor ques, pushing herself into a sitting position, giving Nesta a taunting smile. “I’ll grab you a snack and bring it to you when we meet up for hair and makeup.”

Nesta grabs her phone and touches her chest. “Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?” Nesta exclaims as she leaves the dressing room, shoving through the line of girls in puffy tutus until she's in the back alley. She hits his contact and then puts the phone to her ear.

She bites her nail as she listens to it ring. His voice booming through the speakers seconds later: You’ve reached Cassian Monte, you know what to do.

She pauses, wanting to hang up and pretend she never called. It was a pretty new relationship, they went to high school together but never spoke until two years ago when they met at some fancy dinner her school threw. She had absolutely hated him at first as he kept popping into her life.

She finally let him take her out on a date the last time he was in town five months ago. “Hey Cas, um, I am about to go on soon so I thought I’d give you a call-,” she pauses biting her lip. “I hope your meeting went well today.”

There's a pause and she feels like she should say no but she just hangs up. Blowing at a strain of hair that slipped out from her pony-tail. She still had a whole army of people coming to support her. Besides he had sent her flowers this morning, it’s not his fault that he had meetings.

She looks down at her phone as if he was about to call her but when she’s only met with a black screen she swallows and pushes her way back into the building, walking down the crowded halls and into her dressing room where she changed into her costume before finding Mor at a vanity.

“Hey lovebird,” Mor says, as she leaned forward in the mirror to apply mascara. “You didn’t talk long.”

Nesta gave her a tight smile, as she took the seat next to her, two crew members immediately moving to begin working on her hair. “Yeah, well, I have an opening night to get ready for!” she exclaims.

Mor smiles, handing Nesta a stack of cards, “Well wishes from the friends and family,” Mor says, turning away from her to begin speaking to the hairdresser as Nesta fingered through different cards from her friends and family.

I am super excited for you both but did you really have to seat me right next to the love of my life and her douche boyfriend Tamlin? Stars, someone needs to punch him. -Rhys

You both have been working so hard for this, I am so excited for both of you Nesta eyes squint as the handwriting becomes more scribbled and tinier. Sorry. Elain started crying. It’s Lucien. She wants me to write that she is proud of both of you and that you are both role models for Lucy. -Elain and Lucien

“Curtain is up in ten minutes, everyone!” a producer yells, clapping her hands, Mor turns to smile at Nesta.

“This is it,” Mor comments.

The show is a blur of motion and music, Nesta can’t express what she’s feeling when she steps forward to take her final bow. She is speechless when she exits the theater and her friends and family surround her, Elain pulling her into a tearful hug while Feyre gives her a boutique of flowers.

She turns to see a tall man that she had never seen before that Rhysand was causally glaring at. “You must be the boyfriend, Tamlin, we are grabbing drinks after-,” Nesta says. Feyre who stood next to him shakes her head, her eyes wide as if trying to give Nesta a message.

“Drinks?” Tamlin asks, turning to Feyre who immediately stops shaking her head and laughs. “No, uh remember I mentioned having a thing in the morning, so I can’t stay out late.”

Tamlin nods, “I’ll grab us a taxi,” he muses as he moves towards the street.

“You were beautiful, Nes. Mom would have been proud,” Feyre says, pulling Nesta into a hug. “If I ever say I am going on a date with him ever again please knock some sense into me.”

“Feyre, ready?” Tamlin calls.

She rolls her eyes as she moved towards the taxi. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” Feyre yells at them before Tamlin shuts the door and sits in the passenger seat.

“Ick, who sits in the front of a taxi?” Rhysand complains.

Mor bumps his shoulder. “She wouldn’t go on all these terrible dates if you just admitted how you felt already,” she exclaims.

“I have, it’s her turn,” Rhysand retorts.

Nesta rolls her eyes at their stubborness before turning to Elain and Lucien. “One drink? The bar I am thinking is just around the corner,” Nesta says, pulling at her sisters hands as if to guide her.

Elain chuckles turning to look at Lucien who shrugs. “We did tell the babysitter we would be out late,” she says and Nesta let’s out a cheer as she wraps an arm around her sisters shoulder and guides them down the street.

A few of there cast mates were already there celebrating. Elain and Lucien only staying for one drink, while the rest kept going strong.

Nesta catches Mor staring down at her phone before smiling. “Wanna head back soon?” Mor calls over the music.

Nesta nods feeling the exhaustion set in. They didn’t have a show tomorrow but they did have rehearsals and then a show Sunday. She probably should stay out too late.

Mor disappears before coming back minutes later a mischievous smile on her face. “I actually got asked to go home with that pretty blue eyed brunette over there, do you mind?” Mor asks.

Nesta follows Mor finger, it was one of girls on the makeup crew. She wasn’t Mors usual type. “You deserve your happy ending, go for it,” Nesta says. “Text me or call me anytime, okay?”

Mor nods pulling her into a hug. “Text me when you make it home, I might have a package waiting on the doorstep mind bringing it in for me?”

Nesta rolls her eyes but nods, mor was always treating herself to an online shopping spree. She moves through the crowd of sweaty people rubbing arms and onto the almost empty street.

They lived three doors down so it was a quick walk to their apartment. Nesta looks on the doorstep for a package but doesn’t see anything as she slides in the key and twists the knob.

She pauses in the doorway when she flicks on the light and there was a stack of her favorite snacks and a new romcom dvd sitting on the counter, as well as the blankets from both their rooms spread out on the furniture to create a fort.

She raises an eyebrow as she shuts the door, moving deeper into the apartment. Someone in the fort mutters a curse before popping out and giving her a sheepish smile. “You weren’t supposed to be back yet,” Cassian says as he awkwardly gets out of the fort and stands up.

He scratches the back of his neck nervously as he looks at her and she realizes she hasn’t said anything. “I am sorry, is this overstepping? I guess I wouldn’t be too thrilled to have a guy-,”

“No, it’s-,” she pauses as she looks at the fort and she’s the laptop screen beaming through the opening. She drops her bag in the ground and moves quickly to him. She throws her arms around his neck and he tightens his around her waist, picking her up in one smooth motion. “I am just shocked that you're here. No one has done something like this before.”

He smiles as they pull away, she slides down so her feet touch the ground but he’s still holding tightly to her waist. “If you’re tired I get it, you did so well tonight. God, Nes, you looked stunning up there,” he whispers against her temple.

She looks up at him. “You were there? You saw my performance?” She asks with excitement dripping from her voice. She hated being out of the know but Cassian was glad he was able to surprise her.

“My flight was delayed, I almost didn’t make it. That’s why I didn’t answer when you called. I was still up in the air,” Cassian says. “I had to rush to the theater. I was standing all the way in the back, but I could still see you crush it.”

She laughs, pulling away from him and looking up at him seriously. “I missed you, a lot,” she says honestly.

“I missed you too,” he replies, pulling her back into his chest and stroking her hair. When she finally pulls away to shower and change she half expects him not to be there. That her dehydrated exhausted mind created a false reality but she opens her door he’s curled up in the fort waiting for her with a big bowl of popcorn.

Before she crawls in to join him, she looks over as her phone lights up with a new message from Mor. Did you like my package? Nesta smiles sending back a quick response and then crawling in the fort and curling up beside Cassian.

#nessian #acotar #cassian #nesta archeron #nessian fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #sjmaas #acotar instagram au #rhysand #acomaf

180 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Riding High

Ch2: Hey Sailor

Chapter Summary: Mary is excited for her first riding lesson, and it seems that she’s not the only one…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Again, as you will all know I’m a Brit so apologies if too much British horsey lingo slips into this…ASK away if you don’t understand. Tagging all my SSB/CSI readers…if you want in or off the list PLEASE just tell me. This chapter is a bit of a filler, things start getting a bit more interesting in the next one, and then we’ll be diving into the Gifted story line in Chapter 4.

Thanks to my beta reader/sounding board @icanfeelastormbrewing for her input and her modes of transport kink...

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 1

“Mary…” Frank sighed. “Take the boots off and get in bed.” “You told me that Miss Gallagher said I needed to wear them.” she looked at him.

“Yeah, but you can’t wear them in bed…”

Mary flopped onto the side of her bed and reached down to unzip the boots before she kicked them off and Frank picked them up and placed them out of the way. Mary shuffled down under her covers and lay her head back on the pillow and, once she was settled, Frank gently smoothed her blonde hair back off her face and smiled at her. Times like this she really did remind him of Diane.

“Frank?”

“Yeah?” “Can I read for a little while?” she asked.

Frank rolled his eyes “Mary…”

“Please!”

“Fine, fifteen minutes tops. And I’ll be in to turn the light off, ok?” With a grin she sat up and reached for her latest book- Moby Dick, and he dropped a kiss to her head and left her to it. He made his way into the kitchen, cleared the dishes and then grabbed a beer his attention turning to the table which was had clear, the other half scattered with the parts from one of the engines he had been working on. He knew he really shouldn’t bring this home with him but sometimes it was just easier.

His phone buzzed and he reached for it, glancing down at the unknown number.

“Hi Mr Adler, just a courtesy message to remind you of Mary’s lesson tomorrow at One. If you can’t make it please let me know ASAP so I can offer the slot to someone else. Otherwise see you then. Regards, Fliss.” Frank smiled, like he would have chance to forget. Mary had talked of nothing else since Saturday. His fingers hovered over the reply button, before he dropped the phone back down. He didn’t need to reply…did he? I mean…

Oh fuck it. What was a bit of harmless flirting? He picked the phone back up and tapped in a quick response.

“Like I’d have chance to forget. She’s been like a broken record since Wednesday. I had to pry her

boots off tonight as she was threatening to wear them in bed.” Setting the phone down he headed back through to check on Mary, her 15 minutes was over. He found her fast asleep, book clutched to her chest. Gently taking it from her, he slipped the bookmark into the page and turned off the lights, making sure she was tucked in. When he moved back into the main part of the trailer he had a reply.

“Brilliant! That’s what I like to hear. Get used to it, you’re going to hear about nothing but horses now for the rest of your life.” “Great, I can’t wait…” he set his Nokia down, not really having a smarter response to that, so he gathered a few pieces of the engine, setting to work. About five minutes passed and his phone went again.

“You know I offer starter lessons for adults too, maybe you should try it, see if you understand what the fuss is all about.” “No thanks, my feet stay firmly on the ground. Unless I’m on a boat.” “A boat? I didn’t have you pegged as a sailor?” At that Frank let out a bark of a laugh.

“I’m not, not really. I fix them. And besides, you don’t sail speedboats.” “What do you do then?”

“You drive them.”

“Do you drive them on water?” “Dur.” “That’s called Sailing.”

His work abandoned, he took a pull from his beer bottle and shook his head, smile tugging at his lips as he replied.

“But they don’t have sails…” “It’s a boat. It goes on water. It’s called Sailing.” “Alright, I bow to your superior knowledge…” “Glad we agree…even if I do detect a serious underlying tone of sarcasm in your message. See you tomorrow Sailor.” He laughed again, shaking his head. He tapped in a goodnight and placed the phone down, turning his attention to his work.

***** “What are you grinning about?” Bill Gallagher looked at his daughter as they walked across the field, Thor and his own dog, Rupert, hurtling ahead in front of them, their flashing collars keeping them located in the twilight.

“Oh, nothing, just winding someone up.” she smiled “One of the dad’s from tomorrow’s lesson, trying to convince me you drive, not sail, a speedboat.” “Hmmm…well they don’t have sails.” Bill mused.

“Whatever, they go on water, they sail.” Fliss shrugged, slipping her phone back into her pocket as Frank’s ‘Goodnight’ rounded off their conversation.

“So, who is he then?” Bill asked.

“Oh, his name’s Frank.” Fliss replied, nonchalantly, but her dad didn’t miss the flicker of a smile that hit her mouth.

“Is he the one that your mum said was eyeing you up in the bar?” “He was not eyeing me up.” Fliss groaned “He was just being friendly.” “Sure he was.” “Dad.” she warned him, nudging him with her elbow.

“What?” “You know what!” she laughed “Stop it.” “Alright.” he smiled, holding his hands up “I yield, it’s just nice to see you happy, that’s all.” “Well, I am.” she said after a moment, and she meant it “The last six months the riding school has taken off, I’m feeling more, well, myself than I have in years. Just need to find an apartment now.” “Well, on that.” Bill looked at her. “Me and your mum have been thinking. We thought, maybe, you might want to move into the annex. We can do it up, gives you your own space…”

Fliss paused walking and turned to her dad. “That’s where Steeby stays though, when he comes out with Sian and the kids.” “There’s plenty of room in the house.” Bill shrugged “And they come like what, four times a year? It’s stood empty the rest of the time.” Fliss bit her lip.

“It’s just an idea and your brother won’t mind. Look, I know it’s probably not what you had in mind, living in your parent’s annex but for the time being until the Yard starts to turn over more of a profit we just thought it might give you a little bit more freedom.” “Whilst still staying close.”

“I want to keep you safe Titch.” Bill shrugged “I didn’t do that before but,” “Dad don’t.” Fliss shook her head “None of that, it wasn’t your fault. I hid from everyone what was happening…you didn’t know.”

“I should have.” he sighed “You’re my daughter.” “He had everyone fooled, including me. This is no one’s fault but his, I get that now.” Bill smiled and pulled her into a hug. “I know.”

“We should head back.” Fliss smiled, pulling away. “Mum will be wondering where we are.”

“You have anything to finish off?” he asked

“Nope, everything is out for the night and looks reasonably settled.” she squinted at the various horses dotted across her land.

“Hmmm, unlike this fencing.” Bill frowned, examining the broken bit of post and rail that Fliss had patched up with electric tape “This could do with replacing, love.” “Yeah, I know.” she shrugged “I was going to mention it but forgot. The temporary fix has worked for the time being.” “I’ll stop by and do it tomorrow.” he nodded, “Won’t take me long. I’ll level that top field as well whilst I’m at it if you want.” “Thanks Dad” she smiled. In comfortable silence they made their way back towards the main part of the yard. *******

Fliss grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in her office and took a long drink. The heat was pretty intense today, and she was just wondering if really holding Mary’s lesson as advisable when she realised it wasn’t like they’d be doing anything too strenuous. She adjusted her baseball cap and walked back onto the yard, shouting instructions to the three members of staff to go and take a water break. Just as they were passing her towards the office, she saw Frank and Mary walking onto the yard. Mary was sporting a new riding hat and Fliss couldn’t help but smile.

“Well check you out!” she said, tapping the little girl on the head “Nice hat.” “I liked the silver on it!” Mary grinned, pointing to the sparkly strip that ran along the front.

“Me too.” Fliss nodded. “I have the same hat but mine has blue sparkles.” she straightened up and looked at Frank. “Hey Sailor.” He gave a snort of a laugh “I told you, you don’t sail speedboats.” “They go on water.” Mary said, “Its’ sailing.” “Ha, see!” Fliss laughed

Frank sighed “Whatever.” The corners of his mouth turned up and he handed Fliss the forms he had brought back.

“Oh great…” she thanked him “I’ll just file these and then Ruby will get Monty ready. I thought you might like to help her.” Mary nodded eagerly. Fliss excused herself and Frank heard her shouting something and a moment later a tall, wirey Hispanic girl emerged from the office with a saddle. Fliss followed, bridle slung over her shoulder and gestured for Mary to follow. Frank watched as the girl skipped off following and headed after her at a slower pace, rubbing at his neck which felt like it was burning. He’d slathered Mary in sunscreen before but of course had forgotten his own.

He stepped into the relative cool of the barn and watched as the stable hand was explaining to Mary what each piece of tack was as she began to place it onto the pony. He knew Mary would be taking all of this in, just like she did with everything, and Roberta would be hearing all about it later on.

Fliss handed over the bridle and stepped back, heading towards Frank. “I normally do have the ponies ready” she said, almost apologetically “But I thought she’d enjoy this bit.” “You thought right.” Frank laughed “I was just thinking to myself she’ll be chewing our neighbour’s ear off later.”

Fliss smiled and they both stood in silence watching until the other girl said they were ready.

“Alright, let’s go!” Fliss grinned and they walked out into the yard. She took the pony from her staff member with a thanks, and walked with Mary following into the riding paddock. Frank leaned on the fencing outside as Fliss led Mary and Monty over to the wooden mounting block at the side.

“Ok, so…” she turned to Mary and patted the top step “Climb up here…” Mary hopped up.

“Left foot in this stirrup,” she instructed. Mary placed her foot in. “Left hand here,” she guided it to the front of the saddle, “and then I want you to swing your right leg over.” Mary did as she was told, sitting down on the saddle.

“Good stuff kiddo!” Fliss smiled as she checked the stirrups “Ok, so we need to put these up a hole so…”

She busied herself shortening the stirrup leathers, and eventually when she was happy she nodded.

“So, what we’re gonna do for today is a bit of walking around, and stopping, and then if you’re happy with your balance we can try a bit of trot ok?” Mary grinned.

“Right…so take your reins…” Fliss showed her how to hold the reins correctly, and then she slipped the lunge line through the ponies bit and looked at the girl. “If you feel wobbly or anything you grab this…” she said, gesturing to the leather strap around the pony’s neck. “And shout to me ok?”

Mary nodded.

Fliss began to walk besides the pony who followed her like a dog. Mary all the time concentrating on what she was doing. Fliss explained to her how her legs made the animal go, and how to make it stop, and they practiced that for five minutes before Fliss moved slightly further away to let Mary take a bit of control, instructing her to go, then stop, go, then stop…

Frank watched intently. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t slightly nervous about Mary falling off but he knew that he had to let her discover all this for herself. He leaned further over on the fence, watching and couldn’t help but smile at the look on Mary’s face, she was concentrating so hard her brow was furrowed, tongue poking out from the side of her mouth.

“Your kid?” a deep voice with a similar accent to Fliss said and he turned to his right to see a tall, stocky guy in his sixties, maybe, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans looking at him.

“Neice.” he nodded, “First lesson.” “Ahh...” the man chuckled “Yeah I remember Fliss’ first lesson. I crapped myself.” Frank let out a laugh “Yeah, I’m a little nervous.” “Bill Gallagher” The man stuck his hand out “Fliss’ dad.” “Nice to meet you, I’m Frank.” Bill looked at him, nodding before his attention turned to the paddock “Hey, Titch, sorry to interrupt…” Fliss stopped the pony and turned to her dad “Hey.” “Fencing is done but I can’t get that bloody tractor started, so the field’s gonna have to wait.” “I can look at it.” Frank offered immediately “I mean, if you want.” Bill turned to him, “You a mechanic?” “No he’s a sailor.” Fliss shot back and Frank rolled his eyes.

“I fix boats. Engines, that type of thing.” “Huh.” Bill nodded appraisingly. “Well if you wouldn’t mind…” “Not a problem. Mary you okay here if I go for a minute?” Mary looked at him “Dur.” Bill let out a chuckle as Frank turned to him “Tell me raising them gets easier.” “Oh no mate.” Bill shook his head, grinning “You just get different shit to deal with.” Frank followed the man round to the back of the barn and spotted a dark green baby tractor. Bill explained what it was doing and Frank crouched closer to have a look before he headed to his truck for the jump leads.

After ten minutes or so he’d found the problem. They could start it, but it wasn’t holding any charge. Meaning when the turned the engine off it needed jump starting again.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the alternator.” he chewed his lip, stepping back “I’ll need to strip it down to see whether I can repair it or if it needs a new one but we can get it started again you can do what you need to do for today.”

Bill nodded “So not quite ready for the scrap heap?” “Not quite.” Frank smiled, wiping his hands on his jeans “Just needs a bit of a fiddle with.” “Don’t we all?” Bill quipped, making Frank laugh. They jump started it again and Bill thanked him before hopping on and heading over to the gate that led to the field.

By the time Frank returned, he was surprised to see that Mary was now riding the pony almost unaided in a circle around Fliss who was holding the end of the line attached to the Monty’s bridle as it trotted around. Mary was gripping the strap round the pony’s neck and trying to rise in time to the trot. It was clumsy and she was a little bit out of balance but that didn’t matter. He could hear Fliss shouting gentle encouragement to her, counting out the rhythm and eventually Mary fell in time with her counts.

“Good!” Fliss beamed “see, I told you you’d get it…” This continued for another 5 minutes or so before Fliss told Mary to slow Monty down to a walk and give him a good pat. They walked the pony around for a while, to give him chance to cool down a little before Fliss walked towards Mary gathering up the line as she went.

“That was awesome for a first go!” she said, smiling “Did you enjoy it?”

Mary nodded “Yeah, it was really cool!”

“Good!” Fliss said. “Now I’m gonna unclip the line and walk around for a bit. He’ll follow me but when I stop I want you to stop him yeah?”

Mary nodded eagerly and she unclipped the line and began to walk. Fliss knew Monty would stop when she did but she wanted to let Mary have a go anyway. They did a lap of the paddock and on the second she stopped by Frank.

“Look, Frank!” Mary smiled “I’m not on the line.” “Yeah, I see!” he smiled at her “Good job!”

“How’s my tractor?” Fliss asked.

“Think it’s the alternator. We got it started for your dad but I’ll need to strip it down properly…I can come back tomorrow and sort it properly if you want?” “Oh, I don’t wanna put you out.” Fliss started to protest but Frank shook his head

“It’s no bother, honestly.” he ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t promise I can fix it but I’ll be able to see if I can or if you need a new one.” Fliss looked at him and then nodded “Alright, but in that case today is free.” “No, that’s not why I offered.” Frank began to protest but Fliss shook her head

“I know.” she smiled that damned gorgeous smile again, and Frank felt his stomach flip. “But I’d like to.” Frank looked at her for a moment, her brown eyes locked onto his and he swallowed, nodding. “Ok, thanks.” “Wait am I coming back tomorrow?” Mary asked

“I’m booked up, sorry sweetie.” Fliss looked at her “But you’re welcome to come anyway, that is if Frank says its okay. You can always give Monty a groom.” “We’ll see. “Frank looked at Mary.

“I can put her to work.” Fliss said, grinning “Nothing like a bit of child labour.” “That’s illegal.” Mary said.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” Fliss looked at her and Frank gave a chuckle.

They made their way out of the paddock and Fliss showed Mary how to swing her leg back round the saddle and slide down. She landed on her feet and took the reins from Fliss’ hand, leading the pony back to his stable. She helped untack and then Fliss handed her the bridle to carry. They walked into the office and Fliss tapped a code into the door to the left and led them into a tidy tack room, rows of saddles and racks adorned the wall along with bridle pegs and a few shelves full of rugs and blankets for the horses. Fliss slipped the saddle onto a spare rack and then directed Mary to Monty’s bridle peg. Frank took the bridle from her as the peg was a little high and hooked it over.

“Now, you need a drink.” Fliss looked at Mary “I got water or some apple juice.”

“Apple please.” Mary said. Fliss nodded and headed back into the office, giving her a juice box from the fridge “Frank?”

“Oh, errr, water would be great thanks.” She handed him a bottle and he screwed off the tap.

“So, do you want to book in again now or do it tomorrow?” Fliss looked at him. “I think she’ll cope on the group lesson fine.” “So when do they run?” Frank asked, swallowing his water.

“Saturday afternoons at two.” Fliss said. “Or Wednesday at six.” “Can we come Saturday?” Mary asked.

Frank hesitated “I did say you couldn’t do this every week.” “Yeah but you didn’t pay for today.” Mary shot back.

Jesus Christ

He glanced up at Fliss who was biting her lip, trying not to laugh.

“Fine, you can come this Saturday but then that’s it, we go to every other week like we agreed, okay?” Mary nodded.

“Settled, I’ll book you in.” Fliss grinned. “If you get here about quarter to I’ll introduce you to the other girls before you join.” Mary frowned a little, before she recovered and nodded. “Okay.” “So do you like work here every day?” Frank asked and Fliss nodded

“Mostly. If I want a day off then I get Joanne to cover the lessons and the girls can open and close up.” she said “But it’s few and far between. Like I said, still in the early days so…”

Frank nodded “Yeah I know what it’s like, trying to get yourself established.” “I take it you’re a self-employed sailor then?” Fliss smiled and he gave a grin back and nodded.

“He takes me for rides.” Mary said “In the boats sometimes.” “That’s really cool. I’ve never been on speedboat.” Fliss mused.

“You should come with us one day, right Frank?”

Frank hesitated a little, surprised to find that he wasn’t filled with dread at the idea of her joining them.

“I’m sure Fliss has enough to be doing without you demanding more of her time.” he shot the girl a look, his tone even.

“Yeah, I’m very busy.” Fliss smiled, offering him a way out. He shot her a thankful look.

“We can do it when you’re free…” “Mary!” Frank’s tone was exasperated as Fliss laughed.

“Maybe one day.” she said, nodding.

This placated the girl somewhat and she bounced off towards the truck.

“Sorry.” Frank turned to Fliss “She can be a little bit…” “Tenacious?” “I was gonna say a pain in the ass.” Frank shrugged, causing Fliss to laugh, her soft chuckles made him feel a little warm, or maybe it was the afternoon heat…

“She’s a good kid.” Fliss said gently.

Frank smiled and then jerked his head in the direction of the car park “I better…” “Sure.”

“I’ll drop you a message about tomorrow?” Fliss nodded “Yeah, but don’t put yourself out.” “Well I owe you now for the lesson so…” he shrugged “I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Yeah, guess you will.” Fliss smiled. There was a pause again and Frank nodded, before he turned and headed after Mary. He turned to look over his shoulder at Fliss who was now walking back towards her office before he wandered onto the car park to find Mary was now chewing Bill’s ear off.

“For the love of God.” he mumbled as he drew nearer to find her mid discussion with the man about the Olympics.

“Did you go?” she was asking.

“You bet!” Bill smiled “I’ll tell you something else as well…” “What?” “Those fences are even bigger in real life than they look on the photos.” “It said on the internet she jumped One meter forty!”

“The internet?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, we googled her.” Frank groaned “Mary.” “What?” she looked at him. “I was just saying…” “Well don’t.” He said, “Truck, now…”

“It was nice to meet you Mary.” Bill smiled as the little girl bid him goodbye.

“Sorry.” Frank apologised to him.

“Don’t be silly.” Bill waved his apology off. “She wasn’t doing any harm.”

“I meant about the google thing.” Frank sighed. “We weren’t prying, she was just curious after seeing the medal and…” Bill shook his head “Kids are nosey.” he shrugged.

With another nod he climbed in the truck and turned to Mary with a sigh “What did I say to you about not telling Miss Gallagher we googled her?” “I didn’t.” Mary said “I told her dad.”

There was a pause as Frank contemplated what she had said, and realised technically she was right. He should have closed that particular loop hole. “Smart ass.” He grumbled back, before he clipped in her belt and they left.

***** Fliss was surprised to see Mary wasn’t with Frank the next day. Frank explained he had come straight from the boat yard so she was busy doing some lesson work with their neighbour. “Gives me chance to work without her continually running around causing a nuisance.” he had explained, setting his tools down by the tractor.

Fliss chuckled, “Ok, well, I got another client due in a second so just give me a shout if you need anything.” He nodded. It didn’t take him long to realise he had been right. It was the alternator. He took the engine apart and was leaning over it on the flat bed of his truck when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to look at Fliss.

“It is the alternator, but it looks like it’s the brushes inside.” he said, “I can fix this.” She nodded, the movement almost imperceptible, and he frowned at the look on her face. She’d glazed over in front of him, eyes were widened, almost like she was stuck in a memory.

And she was. Something about the fact he’d been leaning over the back of a truck, his grubby t-shirt riding up slightly, dirt on his hands and arms had stirred a really inappropriate thought in her head…which in turn had triggered another flashback.

“He was fixing the car.” Fliss looked at John “I offered him a drink, that’s all…” “He was in our kitchen.” John advanced “I saw you looking at him. Admiring him…” “I wasn’t…”

“Don’t LIE TO ME!” John’s voice as loud and then there was a stinging slap to the side of her face, which sent her reeling. As she recovered, the ringing in her ear still loud from the blow, she gently reached up to her cheek, tears stinging her eyes. John’s face was immediately apologetic, and he reached out for her, causing her to shrink back against the counter.

“You hit me.” she gasped.

“Sugar, I’m so sorry.” John stuttered, his eyes filing with tears “I didn’t, you just made me so jealous…I…” He held his arms out and pulled her to him, his hands on her back as he dropped a kiss to her head “I will never do that again, I’m sorry…” “Fliss?”

She started slightly and looked at Frank. “Yeah, sorry, I was…” “Miles away?” he frowned.

“Something like that.” she nodded, shaking her head “Sorry, you said you could fix it?”

“Yeah.” he said “I can take it with me and then I can bring it back Saturday unless you need it before that?”

“No, Saturday’s fine.” she said gently.

“Look, I don’t mean to pry but are you sure you’re ok?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” she spoke quickly. “Look, I gotta get on and…” “Sure.” he nodded, “I should be going anyway…” She smiled at him, and turned and headed back to the yard.

****

“You clearly triggered something.” Roberta said to Frank wisely as they both sat in his living room later that evening. He’d just finished telling her about the afternoon. “Some kind of memory.”

Frank hmmed his response. “Question is why are you so bothered?” Roberta asked.

“I’m not, I just, well it wasn’t nice to see. She looked so scared.” “Well you said her husband was sent down for assaulting her.” Roberta shrugged “She’s clearly had a lot of trauma. Maybe she just needs a friend.” “Yeah, maybe.”

“Could be good for both of you.” “I know what you’re doing.” Frank looked at her sternly

“I’m not trying to do anything!” Roberta chuckled

“Course you’re not.” he rolled his eyes before he changed the subject.

It wasn’t until he was alone later, that he pulled his phone out to text Fliss. He’d typed out his message, just a perfectly innocent one to check she was okay before he deleted it, shaking his head.

Whatever it was, it really was none of his business. He had enough of his own past demons to live with as it was.

But the more he lay there the more it wound him up. And he couldn’t get the thought of her out of his head.

“Fucks sake,” he grumbled, before he retyped the message and sent it.

**** Fliss was curled up on the sofa watching TV. Her parents were out for the evening so she was making the most of enjoying the space. Her phone went and she leaned over to grab it from the coffee table, unable to stop smiling as she saw who it was from.

“Hey, just wanted to check you were ok after before. I hope I didn’t do anything or say anything that upset or scared you.” The last line made her heart sink. He clearly knew about her past. Her dad had mentioned something about them googling her, and the case had been fairly big news amongst the equestrian circuit so she knew that the story was out there to read. Well, most of it was anyway. She rubbed at her eyes, thinking of how to respond. She hated that even after almost a year of him being out of her life John was till effectively a shadow she couldn’t seem to emerge from.

“It’s not your fault. I get flashbacks sometimes, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well the past has a way of doing that. Trust me, I know.”

Fliss smiled gently as she tapped out her response. “Yeah, what is it Rafiki says on the Lion King? You can either run from your past or learn from it?”

Little over thirty seconds later he responded.

“Sound advice from a cartoon monkey…not always that easy in real life. If you ever want a non-judgmental ear to talk to, I’m a pretty good listener if you fancy a beer and a chat. Just as friends.” There was just something about this man, something that Fliss couldn’t help but warm to. She wasn’t stupid, the girls at the yard had told her a bit about him, his reputation amongst the ladies…he was a bit of a player from all accounts, but there was something there, something buried deeper, she could just tell. And what’s more, for the first time in years, she felt like she could trust another person other than her family.

It was for that reason she found it so easy to almost, sort of, maybe, possibly accept his invitation.

“I might just hold you to that Sailor.”

**** Chapter 3

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

89 notes · View notes

kryativelogos · 3 years

Text

The Young Six's Elements

Hi hello! Since MLP G5 is coming out soon, I thought it’d be fun to explore and discuss the Young Six’s elements from G4! This may or may not be long based on how you look at it. I would also say spoilers but guys, this show ended nearly 3 years ago.

Let’s get something right off the bat, these elements will be different from the Mane 6′s for two reasons: (1) the Pillars had different elements from the Mane 6 which leads me to believe they are stemmed from one another but not 100% identical and (2) that based on the colors from S8E26 when they pulled out the artifacts, Gallus isn’t- magical, not in the old-fashioned way that Twilight or Starswirl is at least. So I will be coming up with “new” elements that encompass the Young Six’s character while staying true to their predecessors. I also want to focus on the idea that each of these groups had an underlying goal, the Pillars were protecting a ‘primitive’ time for ponies, while the Mane Six were focusing on relationships between ponies and later extending out to other species. I want to believe that the Young Six’s goal would be to strengthen relationships between different species and unifying them under friendship based on how they’re all different species themselves and are connected to the rulers somehow.

Gallus - Guidance Gallus glowed purple, which means he is most closely related to Twilight (Magic) and Starswirl (Sorcery). Which might not make much sense here since again, while he is considered a magical creature, most creatures in the MLP universe are considered as such (and honestly the definition of what is and isn’t a magical creature is a completely different discussion all on it’s own). But because Twilight’s strongest magic is ✨The Magic of Friendship✨ I’m going to run with that. In S8E22 Gallus’ fear was being closed in / tight spaces, which I personally believe this to be physically closed in but also metaphorically closed off from people around him. In S8E15 Gallus explains that there really isn’t much of a family at home and that he really believes he found his family in the Young Six. So I picture him as both the leader of the Young Six because of Twilight’s and Starswirl’s own status of their groups and also that he values family the most. I want to also add that in the future (S9E26), he also becomes a guard for Twilight’s Kingdom. I believe that because of this, Gallus is basically ‘the head of the family.’ He is the supporter, the protector, and therefore is the one that would want to guide and help others around him to the best of his abilities. He even showed this while helping Silverstream conquer her own fears in S8E22. Gallus is the element of Guidance because while every-creature is capable of learning and making mistakes on their own, having someone there to help and just support them is always something nice.

Ocellus - Inspiration Ocellus glowed white, therefore closest to Mistmane (Beauty) and Rarity (Generosity). Ocellus’ fear (S8E22) was being feared again - as a species - and being “ugly and hideous” because she looked like Queen Chrysalis. However, the beauty Mistmane represents is not skin-deep, it’s the beauty within a person and Ocellus learns to love herself as a ‘reformed’ changeling - you can see this in S8E1 when she tries to pretend to be a dragon and pony to blend in and learning to just be herself and share her talent to help in the best way possible (see S8E2 + E9 at least). Her generosity comes from her love of learning and studying, giving her time and love to help the other students study and share the information she learns with others (S8E22). I see this as almost being a mentor or tutor, and giving your time for others is the greatest form of generosity in my opinion. This is why I believe Ocellus’ element would be Inspiration because as a changeling she is inspiring others through teachings and also sharing her past with others, and potentially shapeshifting into other creatures to show them all what they can be.

Silverstream - Curiosity I think Silverstream’s might just be the easiest one to explain. She shares characteristics of Laughter (Pinkie Pie) and Hope (Somnambula). Silverstream's past involves the Storm King and hid all her life underwater, so the problem here is she doesn't know anything above the water until the King's defeat (see MLP: the Movie). So when she is above the surface, she's constantly interested in everything (see S8E22 where she gets excited over plumbing) and wants to learn about everything. She gets excited over everything (see S8E2 for excitement over stairs) and this is a really good tie into laughter as part of her core characterization. Hope is also a really indicator for Silverstream because she and the rest of the hippogriffs really believed that staying underwater was the safest way to keep from the Storm King's rule. It wasn't until his defeat did the hippogriffs ever had a sense of hope of being able to live back on land. Curiosity is Silverstream's element because of her desire to learn.

Yona - Courage Yona is honest (AJ) and strong (Rockhoof), we didn't even need to know her elemental predecessors to know that. However, while her development as a character really isn't all that deep, we do see a softer side is S8E22 and S9E7. In S8E22, Yona can be seen terrified of spiders, but instead of just conquering her fear by smashing the spiders, she takes that extra step to befriend them instead, asking them for help to get out of her current situation. In S9E7, Yona is worried about embarrassing Sand Bar at a dance (I can't remember the name of the event sorry). She goes out of her way to learn everything 'the pony way' so she can fit in better. While this whole thing makes sense, it strips away Yona's identity of being a yak and that the dance was adapted to suit all creature. It takes real courage to step out of your comfort zone to change for someone, but also more so to just be yourself. Seeing that in Yona in both scenarios and also seeing how she can admit that she's scared of flying/falling (S8E1/2?) takes real courage. Because of her honesty, I think she wouldn't be afraid to speak her mind - or hesitate - and in that sense can also be quite courageous especially if it's something they don't want to hear (see basically every episode where there are consequences to not telling the truth). It takes courage to step out of the comfort zone and I think Yona really encompasses this idea.

Smolder - Integrity You may be wondering: Yona and Smolder have their elements backwards! Not quite, and here's why: Smolder's elemental predecessors are Flash Magnus (Bravery) and Rainbow Dash (Loyalty). I think it was a fun addition how her element is strongly tied to dragons (see S7E16) since the beginning and it's a nice touch. Smolder is the roughest of all six members and while she shares a lot of personality traits with Rainbow Dash (like being cool) she's also very honest with herself. In S8E22, Smolder's fear isn't really a fear and more of a wake-up call to herself. She likes cutesy things. She admits it and even joins the cheerleading team which is considered a more feminine sport (S9E15). I think it's really interesting how she also evokes characters to be more true to themselves such as Garble (S9E9) and even Rainbow Dash (S9E15). With these ideas in mind, I think Smolder's element is integrity for the sole reason that she is just really good at making people realize that there is no reason not to be true to yourself. She sees how other creatures perceive dragons, and does her best to allow characters like Spike and Garble be the dragons they want to be (liking pony-things like sewing and pillows S2E21 and S9E9 for Spike and slam poetry for Garble S9E9). How these tie to her predecessors is as such: it's brave to be yourself in a world (or in this case, species) that may not appreciate the full you, and it takes a loyalty to stand by your side while you admit to yourself who you truly are.

Sand Bar - Patience Finally, we have Sand Bar. Sand Bar was the hardest and yet easiest of the six to come up with an element. He has the least character development and also not a lot of personality aside from being very chill and being a really good ally to the other creatures. Because of this, I think he is the element of patience. His predecessors are Healing (Meadow Brook) and Kindness (Fluttershy), and both are key in being patient. This pony took his time with the other creatures, sharing his culture and making them feel welcome. He went out of his way to find Yona and listened to her, making her feel better by letting her know how he felt (S9E7). It was interesting to see the juxtaposition between Yona and Sand Bar, since Yona is very impulsive while Sand Bar is a 'go-with-the-flow' type pony and this just confirmed the idea that he is very patient, especially if he [romantically] likes Yona of all creatures. Aside from that though, there isn't many other eps I can reference that can support this decision. FINAL THOUGHTS--- So with everything said and explained, overall I think these elements are really necessary for both friendships but also could be helpful for them to be ambassadors or something along those lines to their kingdoms or go around helping stop feuds among kingdoms. The idea that these elements could be used to stop evil through artifacts is also something that could be further explored into although there's not much I could look into since there wasn't much information about all of them to begin with. One final thing, this is all just my interpretation and obviously can be up for debate, I only ask that if you do want to counter or even bring more evidence to the table that you do it kindly. I thought about this for a long time and tried my best to provide references as much as possible, so please respect that! Other than that, thank you for reading up to this point, I hope you enjoyed it and maybe sparked some conversations!

#my little pony: friendship is magic #mlp elements #mlp fim #mlp friendship is magic #my little pony

9 notes · View notes

thekidultlife · 4 years

Text

THE RETURN OF SUPERMAN | Kwon Soonyoung

Author’s Note: This is definitely one of my most favorite writings! Sorry I’m behind the posting schedule a little bit. Unstable internet connections are THE WORST!

Genre: I KNOW I’VE BEEN HURTING PEOPLE WITH MY TROS SPINOFFS, BUT THIS IS DIFFERENT. THIS STORY IS A HAPPY PILL. IT’S FLUFF. LITERALLY.

Word Count: 5,840

6:47 P.M.

It is nighttime and cameras are panning around a very cozy nursery. The walls are wallpapered with a pastel kind of yellow filled with clouds, ponies, fairies and more animal pets, some of which double into night lights. A dresser is pushed up to one wall, where baby pictures of the cute little room owner are found, along with her parents in what appeared to be a photoshoot. A clock and little blocks that spelled out Y-U-N-A are also on the dresser. Airplanes, more clouds and stars hang on the ceilings, reflecting the soft glow of the lamplights. The windows are hidden by billowy cream-colored curtains.

One camera is panning down from the plush, carpeted floor, up to the center of the room, on which a massive, white crib could be found. A very cute, chubby-cheeked little baby girl with a jeweled crown on top her soft curls was on the crib, her chubby hands clapping with delight. Her squeals and vibrant peals of laughter filled the whole room. But it was another kind of noise that made cameramen chuckle.

Thud. “Ow!” Kwon Soonyoung rubbed his forehead in mock agony. He made a crying face and pretended to sob loudly, kneeling on the carpeted floor. But he peered behind his hands on his face, grinning, as the baby burst out laughing again, her hands clapping as she did so. Her cheeks had gone red with her giggles.

When the laughter stopped and the baby simply sat there, her whole face waiting and expectant for the next thing about to happen to her dad, Soonyoung decided to do it one last time. He drew close to the crib and pretended to bang his head on the wood. Thud. He rolled back on the floor. “Ow!”

The baby rolled back her head, tears rolling down her cheeks as her guttural baby giggles wracked her entire body. She slumped on the soft quilt of her crib, laughing and laughing.

“Wow, Kwon Yuna,” Kwon Soonyoung muttered, tired of having done the same trick for about thirty minutes now. “You never get tired, do you? Come here.” Soonyoung reached out to take the child. “Let me put you to sleep properly.” He looked at the clock on the dresser. “It’s almost past your bedtime!” Like the pro appa that he was, he cradled Yuna in his arms, which she was already starting to outgrow. How much time do I have left to carry you like this? He thought fondly, already nostalgic of the moment that his baby would grow too heavy for his arms. Then he softly padded to one side of the room, next to the windows, where a rocking chair was. Yuna liked to be rocked to sleep.

He sat there for a long time, rocking and rocking her in his arms. Yuna reached out to touch Soonyoung’s face with her tiny hands, wondering at his face.

Soonyoung smiled and kissed her forehead. “Sleep, little one! Sleep, Kwon Yuna!” He started humming a lullaby to lull her to sleep.

After a few more minutes, Kwon Yuna’s eyes began to droop. She cooed sleepily, and as her head dropped to Soonyoung’s chest, her little crown fell on the carpet. Soonyoung hoisted her carefully on his one arm to pick up the crown, all the while singing the lullaby softly. Soon, deep breaths told him that his baby girl had fallen asleep. Soonyoung carefully stood up, peered into Yuna’s peaceful, sleeping face again, and laid her down gently on the crib.

He stood there watching her for a few minutes before he smiled and whispered, “Good night, my baby girl.” Then he slowly walked out of the nursery and into the adjoining bedroom. He left the door open just in case Yuna might wake up in the early morning hours. Cameras rolled slowly as Soonyoung laid on his bed, exhausted.

He faintly smelled of milk, baby lotion and cereal, but he could not be bothered to get up from the bed. He closed his eyes and began to doze off. It was still early, just barely past 7 p.m., but he felt drained of all energy. He smiled as he thought of Yuna giggling and reached out his hand to grab you close to him, but then he remembered: right. He’s alone, and he’s going to be for the next forty-eight hours. He reached for his phone on the bedtable and pressed the speed-dial to call you.

“My love!” He whispered excitedly when you picked up.

From the other end of the line and a continent away, you grinned. “Hey, Superdad.”

“Hey yourself. Yuna’s sleeping now.” Soonyoung touched his shirt lightly. “And I think I should change my shirt because I got soaked with milk earlier but I’m too tired to stand up.”

“Are you sure she’s asleep? Already?”

“Of course!” Soonyoung smiled at the direction of the nursery. “Our baby sleeps nicely when I rock her to sleep. I think she really likes me more than she likes you.”

You scoffed mockingly. “Don’t kid yourself.”

“Jealous, are we?” Soonyoung giggled, almost very much like Yuna. “I thought we talked about not getting jealous when our Yuna likes one of us more.”

“In your dreams, Kwon Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung took a pillow and hugged it to himself. “I miss you.”

You lay back on your bed for the night, too, a queen-sized one that was very comfortable but seemed empty without Soonyoung beside you. “I miss you, too. But don’t be such a baby! The cameras are rolling and they might think you’re too crazy about me.”

Soonyoung laughed at that. “But aren’t I?” He snuggled onto the pillow on his head, still holding the phone to his other ear. “I really am crazy about you.”

You blushed. “I love you.”

Cries from the nursery made Soonyoung sit up on the bed. “Okay! I think I have to go now.”

You smiled and closed your eyes. “Bye.”

“Hey.” Soonyoung was sliding into his slippers and shuffling on to the direction of the nursery door. “I love you, too, by the way.”

You laughed. “Good night, Yuna-appa. And change your shirt. Really!”

INTERVIEW WITH KWON SOONYOUNG, 30:

SOONYOUNG: (Bows as best he could with a baby girl on his lap.) Hello, everyone! Most people know me onscreen as Hoshi from SEVENTEEN, but right now in this show I am simply Kwon Soonyoung. (Yuna squeals on his lap, and he grins.) That’s a hello from my eight-month-old baby here, Kwon Yuna! We are both very excited to be on this show. (Reaches down as Yuna fusses and brings a bottle to Yuna’s lips.) Among my SEVENTEEN bros, I’m the youngest dad as of the moment. We often chat each other up and they always give me advice about how to do things since I’m still a bit clueless. They say baby years are the best years because you bond a lot with the baby, and you get fascinated by how they just grow up before you know it. (Kisses Yuna as she is busy with her milk bottle.) I’m really happy that I get to experience being her dad. It’s both a terrifying and beautiful experience. I just hope to be the best dad I could be for her.

Q: Are you on an indefinite break from work just to be with your wife and baby daughter?

SOONYOUNG: (Nods and smiles brightly.) Yes! Actually, I did not want to do so immediately because I felt like I might leave them unprepared since we are also readying for a comeba—oops. (Lowers his head, laughing.) Omo. I can’t believe it. Even as a dad I say things I’m not supposed to say. Anyway. Um. The members all insisted that I take the time to go and take care of Yuna here. I do go with them every now and then, mostly on mornings, so I could catch up with practice. My body clock changed after months of being with Yuna. I wake up earlier and I sleep earlier but these days I also have to wake up in the middle of the night. Yuna is at the age where she sometimes wakes up in the middle of the night and cries for us. She knows we will come if she cries. (Ruffles Yuna’s hair playfully and Yuna smiles with her eyes at this, her toothless smile adorably seen as she stops drinking her milk to revel at her dad’s touch.) She’s pretty spoiled, I think. But who am I to complain? Looking this cute, I could not help but forgive her for waking her parents up at odd hours just so she could see us. (Grins at the camera.) Sorry. I know I’m being such a dad right now, spoiling my baby. But hey, that’s what dads do! (Laughs and takes the empty bottle from Yuna, and then bows again.) Please enjoy spending your day with us!

6:30 A.M.

NARRATOR: *Someone is having a very happy bath this morning! Let us see! The happy laughter is infectious! What lies ahead for a morning at the Kwon residence?*

“Ap-paaa!!! Wwaaaahhhbbbbiiiii!!!”

“I know! Your appa picked such a cute song! Good morning, too, Kwon Yuna!” Soonyoung happily translated as the Yuna played with the water on her bathtub. She giggled as bubbles erupted out of the water. Soonyoung scrubbed on her arms, her face.

Dad and baby are inside the bathroom next to the nursery. Both have been up for hours.

“Ggggurbbbbuuu app-paaa?” Yuna chatted with her appa, touching his cheek with a tiny hand filled with bubbles.

“Yes. The eyebags look awful, right? I had to stay up later for you!”

“Biiiii???” Yuna pressed, her eyes looking serious as Soonyoung rinsed her shampooed baby hair gently with warm water. “Bbbibbugabb???”

“Uh-huh. That late. But we’re still best friends! You slept very peacefully after I rocked you to sleep for the second time. Very good girl!” Kwon Yuna liked to wake up early and Soonyoung usually took that time to draw her a bath and get her things ready for the day. Once Yuna wakes up, the whole house wakes up, too! Who needs clocks? Yuna was one! My world literally revolves around this little person! Soonyoung thought to himself as he reached for a towel.

“Bbubbbubbbbbu,” Yuna babbled to her dad as he picked her up from the bubbly bathtub to dry her with a towel and dryer. “Gguggudduuuu!!! Ap-ppa, ap-ppa, appa!”

“Right! Your appa is so amazing, taking care of you all night and giving you a bath! He’s the best appa in the world! Isn’t he?” Soonyoung interpreted confidently as he playfully kissed his baby girl’s cheeks. “Wow. Eomma did a not-so-bad job at picking your bath soap. My love, if you’re watching this, I really dig this bath soap. Buy one for us, too!”

Yuna pinched Soonyoung’s cheeks playfully while he got placed her down the changing table. “Appa? Ggubbbuuu!!!”

“I know! You’re cute, too!” Soonyoung deftly got Yuna into her diapers and hauled her up into his arms. She squealed as they both got out of the bathroom and Soonyoung set her down on the newly vacuumed carpet, letting Yuna crawl around. Yuna gasped in delight at being let down. “Behave while appa gets out your clothes for you, okay?”

After dressing her up in a cute strawberry jumper that had green wings at the back, tying her hair rather clumsily with strawberry ponytails and securing her stray locks into another strawberry-themed hairband, Soonyoung grinned. “Cute, cute, cute!!!” He peppered Yuna with kisses. “Cute, cute, cute!!!”

Kwon Yuna did look like the cutest strawberry fairy, beaming at her dad, clapping her hands before ignoring him entirely and crawling around the nursery, gasping again as her quick little eyes found a picture book that was placed strategically by Soonyoung right where she could see it. She crawled faster with her hands and feet, straining just to get to the picture book. Upon reaching the picture book, she squealed out something like, “Gggaaaahhhhh!!!”

“Yas, girl! Like I told your eomma when we bought you stuff, that picture book is cool!” Soonyoung again translated, lying on his stomach next to his strawberry fairy, who looked like utterly amazed by the picture book, which contained different kinds of colors. Yuna stood up shakily, bouncing on her feet as she stood, before plunking down and sitting with her legs crossed, looking very much like a—yes, a strawberry. She babbled happily as she reached out to touch the book.

“Waaasss?”

“Okay. We’ve done this yesterday, remember?” Soonyoung sat up and imitated how Yuna sat. Then he pointed at the bright color on the book which Yuna was touching with her finger. “Red.” Soonyoung tapped the color again. “Red.”

“W-wed,” Yuna breathed out, her voice unabashedly wondering.

Soonyoung excitedly tapped it again and bent down to listen closer. “Red.”

“Wed!!!” Yuna giggled and clapped her hands, excited at mimicking Soonyoung’s words.

“Yaaayyy! Yuna deserves a kiss!!! Kiss!!!” Soonyoung picked her up and held her into the air, kissing her cheeks as she laughed in delight. “Good job, best friend!” Then he settled her onto his lap and took the picture book. He smiled at Yuna again before tapping another color. “Blue.”

Yuna puckered her lips and looked up at Soonyoung. “Byue?”

“Yaaayyy!!! Way to go, best friend! Yes!” Yuna giggled again as Soonyoung held her up into the air and gave her her reward: appa’s fluttery kisses. “Okay, let’s say it again!” Carefully, Soonyoung put her closer to the book balanced on his one knee so Yuna could touch it. He pointed at the color again. “Blue.”

“Byuuueeeee!!!” Yuna mouthed just like Soonyoung. “Byue!!!”

“Very good, Kwon Yuna!” Another flight up, another kiss. “What’s this color?” Soonyoung pointed back to the first color they learned about. “It starts like r—”

“—Wed,” Yuna said confidently. “Wed!”

“And this one?”

“B-byue!”

Soonyoung laughed and proceeded to educate Yuna about colors. Byue, wed, gweeen, pppink…you get the idea. The baby talk drove Soonyoung nuts but he was fascinated that Yuna was learning so quickly. She’s definitely persistent, Soonyoung noticed fondly. She would touch a color, hear him say it over ang over again, and then repeat. She loved getting kisses and she loved flying with her dad’s arms. Cameras zoomed in on the father and daughter as they forgot the picture book, doing something much more fun-filled for Yuna. She was hoisted up by her dad’s arms, flying around the room, her green wings fluttering, her ponytails whipping around as Soonyoung “flew” her around the room.

“AppaI Appa!” She giggled, loving her flight like the strawberry fairy that she is. Cameramen chuckled as her guttural giggles filled the whole room again. “Wheeeeeeeeee!!!”

Soonyoung stopped, cradling her back again into his arms and raining hugs and kisses on her. “Love you best friend!!!”

“Appa!” Yuna said in babyish delight. “Appa! Mmmnam?” Yuna gesticulated with her hands, suddenly fussing now. “Mmmm?”

“Now that,” Soonyoung murmured as he kissed Yuna again, “is Yuna talk for ‘food, appa?’ Such a bright little princess! Off to breakfast we go!”

INTERVIEW WITH KWON SOONYOUNG, 30:

Q: As asked to the other members, were you there when Kwon Yuna was born?

SOONYOUNG: (Nods happily.) Yes, I was! Unlike the other SVT dads, my wife��s labor pains came right on schedule. It was difficult for them because childbirth is very unpredictable at times. My wife used to have long phone sessions with other SVT mommies about how she might have an expected due date but that sometimes the labor comes sooner or later—we were both nervous. I asked for a break then, too, two weeks in advance, just so I could be there for her when the time comes. She got contractions as early as two weeks, so we were kinda expecting that she might give birth sooner. But Yuna came out exactly on the due date as stated by our OB/GYN. (Stares off into a distance, transported by the memory.) I remember phoning Cheol and asking him what to do. He was my closest neighbor since they live just a few blocks away from our house, and we had bonded quite a lot during the pregnancy because he was the one who gave me advice the most. (Breaks into a smile.) He offered to drive us to the hospital the moment my wife’s water broke that morning. Which was really great because I kept panicking and I was almost noisier than my wife during the whole drive to the hospital. Seungcheol-hyung was like, “Calm down, calm down, breathe” and I was like, “Does it hurt, my love? What do I do? You can punch me or slap me if you want if it helps” and I remember my wife laughing and crying at the same time because she said I was too hilarious to watch as I panicked. (Soonyoung sheepishly grins.) It was true, I was a bit too much. I remember pacing on the floor as she gave birth. She was in labor until evening. The members came to the hospital and waited with me, which became some sort of tradition whenever one of us gets to hold our kids for the first time. So all of them were there when I got to peek inside the hospital room. My wife was awake, and she was holding the baby. I remember taking the baby—(gesticulates how)—very carefully, and just staring dumbstruck at the tiny creature in my arms. I was like super amazed because there she was, my baby! I helped make this beautiful baby girl! I was also sort of terrified because I could already see my face in her. (Laughs loudly as he remembers his expression.) But all in all I was just, plain, simple happy…when her tiny fingers enclosed my thumb, I was like, in love all over again. The tears just started falling when she did that. (Shakes his head while smiling.) The members were telling me things like, “You should name her after you because you look so much like each other” but my wife objected thankfully. My wife and I named her “Yuna”.

Q: We’ve heard that there was a special reason why you named her, “Yuna.” Can we ask what it is?

SOONYOUNG: (Claps his hands together when he remembers why.) Yes, there was a reason! My wife was having these very strange cravings with food and movies and she just wanted to be with me most of the time. She even followed me around tours and fanmeets for a while. Wonu joked to me that that was probably why Yuna looked so much like me. Which is true, I think. (Laughs again.) Anyway, for about seven months, I would just lie with my wife on our bed, re-watching Kim Yuna’s figure-skating competitions. She was very much addicted to Kim Yuna. She’d never had a very keen liking for figure-skating or the Olympics before or any sport in particular, so I was really, really surprised. It was when she was already about four months pregnant, that we’d decided that if her Kim Yuna frenzy would not stop by then, we would name our baby after Kim Yuna if our baby would be a girl. (Soonyoung smiles at the camera and bows.) Kim Yuna-ssi, you were such an inspiration. Thank you very much!

7:15 A.M.

NARRATOR: *Let’s see what baby Yuna will have for breakfast! Looks like Kwon-appa is busy making something on the kitchen counter! What could it be?*

“Our Yuna, just wait patiently for your meal,” Soonyoung called out in a sing-song voice.

The strawberry fairy sat tapping her own spoon on her highchair table, making gurgling noises as she chatted with herself. She would squeal at times when she found a tapping rhythm that she liked, but every now and then, she would look up to the direction across her. “Appa?” she asked, her question understandable even by the other people watching from hidden places in the room. “Mmm, Appa?” How long are you going to make that breakfast, Appa?

Soonyoung was sterilizing the bowl that Yuna would use for eating, as well as her utensils. He put them into a saucepan and began putting in water. He waited until he had the water had already boiled for a few minutes before turning off the stove. Still humming (‘The Three Bears’ song was playing in the background) and eating his own apple—the half of the one he was going to use for Yuna’s breakfast—he poured the contents of another saucepan—chopped apples, oats, cinnamon and milk—into a blender. The sound of the whirring blender made Yuna drop the wooden spoon she was playing with.

“Ugh!” Her startled body shook, and her eyes widened.

NARRATOR: *Omo, she looked really surprised at the sound of the blender!*

“You’re still jumpy at the sound of the blender?” Soonyoung cooed as he munched his apple. “Don’t worry! Appa is here! It’s just a noise! Look!” Soonyoung pretended to bump his head on the cupboard. Thud. “Ow!”

Yuna forgot about the blender burst out laughing.

“Sometimes I wonder why we’re best friends, girl.” Soonyoung muttered. He pressed something on the blender, and it whirred again. Yuna once more looked startled. Soonyoung sighed and pretended to bump his head again. Thud. “Ow!”

Again, the little strawberry fairy doubled in laughter. She hiccuped as she did so—another sign that she was extremely happy.

The blender stopped whirring. Soonyoung finished his apple and checked to see if the mix had been pureed well. “Yes, yes, here it comes!” A few moments later, Soonyoung gently laid before Yuna a plate of oat porridge and a sippy cup filled with unsweetened orange fruit drink.

INTERVIEW WITH KWON SOONYOUNG, 30:

SOONYOUNG: (Blushes at being complimented for being a good appa who knows how to prepare and cook baby breakfast.) I sort of cheated on that! I had to study very hard because even before we started taping for The Return of Superman series, my wife had to go on a very long trip for work. She’s a consultant for a technological company…which is kinda cliché by the way. I knew I fell in love with her when she showed me how to re-format my laptop. I just knew that moment! Anyway, she’s been away for almost a month now, but she’ll be back any day now. It’s just a matter of helping the company close that deal. (Shows a list on his phone.) See? She gave me this list of things to do with Yuna just in case I run out of ideas. But some of the ones at the top are a ‘must’. Like I really have to do it for Yuna whether I like it or not. Which involves cooking strange baby meals, crawling lessons—just kidding, of course, my love! (Blows a reconciliatory kiss at the camera.) You really researched these baby meals well! Good job!

“You are a very good girl this morning, so I took some time to find where Eomma put the recipe for your favorite porridge. She wanted you to eat something with spinach, but we’re going to have something more enjoyable!” The little girl clapped her hands, as if she really understood how her dad just disobeyed a direct order from Mommy Headquarters. “Let’s hope we don’t get in trouble, bestie! Who’s your best friend?” Soonyoung rubbed noses with Yuna, who giggled. “Who’s your best friend?”

“Appa!” Whether Yuna said that as a response or whether she just said it as some sort of reflex for her happiness. Nevertheless, these buoyant replies made Soonyoung smile even wider. His heart felt like it could burst inside him.

My baby just called me! Me! Or not. He tried not to look so happy, but the giddiness kept showing on his face. “That’s right!” Soonyoung eagerly said. “We’re best friends, girl. And we’re not gonna tell Eomma, right?”

Yuna’s eyes widened at that. Soonyoung nervously pulled the tray back a little bit. It was as if she understood! “Girl, you can’t tell on me, she’d be angry at the both of us!”

Yuna just kept looking at him.

Soonyoung stared back.

Uh-oh.

“Eomma, no-no?” Yuna looked thunderstruck that she would be asked to keep a secret from her . “Bbuggubbuubuu?”

Soonyoung stared deeply into his daughters eyes. “That’s right, bestie. This is just between you and me. Okay? Pinky-swear?” Soonyoung reached out to do a pinky-swear, but Yuna kept staring at him. Slowly, as if she was wiser than her eight-month-old self, she reached for her bowl.

“Ggaaahh.” She began spooning the cereal clumsily.

Soonyoung breathed a sigh of relief. This was probably nothing.

“Eat on, baby girl!” Soonyoung looked at his watch. We have to go for our walk soon!”

RECIPE FOR YUNA’S FAVORITE PORRIDGE (according to Kwon Soonyoung’s list on his phone):

Oats (instant) | 1.5 tblspn

Apple | ½ big apple

Cinnamon powder | ¼ tsp

Water | ½ cup or adjust depending on Yuna’s appetite

Sugar (optional, if the mix isn’t sweet enough but not too much!)

8:00 A.M.

“The walk” wasn’t actually anywhere far from the house. Using a stroller, Soonyoung would jog around the neighborhood, pointing out things that would make Yuna exclaim loudly as she curiously looked at the object of her attention. Sometimes it was a cat, sometimes it was a fellow baby being walked by a parent, sometimes it was a tree or a flowers or birds. They weren’t anywhere near a park, and Soonyoung usually had to make do with the neighborhood, which wasn’t so bad itself. It was very private and had walled, mostly traditional Korean houses. And it was a good way to get to know neighbors, too! They passed by Seungcheol’s house, which was one of the more modern-looking houses on the block and was empty. The family van was out, too, but Soonyoung saw cameras from windows. Probably at daycare, he thought to himself, before pushing Yuna’s stroller again.

After that walk with Yuna, who had gotten her much-needed Vitamin D from the sun, Soonyoung opened the back gate, where a playhouse that was connected to tunnels and assorted carpet squares, rugs and different type of surfaces were mapped out like a puzzle game on the manicured lawn. Soonyoung gently took Yuna out of the stroller and placed her on a pink carpet square.

“Let’s practice crawling, Kwon Yuna!” he said like a pro dad, already gathering different elastic balls. He then knelt, carefully watching as Yuna tried to place her hands on the carpet square. Her strawberry-green wings fluttered with the morning breeze. Soonyoung smiled broadly. “Yuna, look!” He placed a ball three squares away. “It’s a ball!”

“B-ball!!!” Yuna shrieked excitedly and began crawling on the towards as fast as her little limbs could carry her. Soonyoung excitedly bent down to help just in case she tumbles.

“Yes! A ball!”

Yuna reached for the ball with a hand and it bounced, sending her into more squeals. “Ball!” She clapped her hands as she sat up, her strawberry bottoms bouncing. “Ball!”

“Well…how about this one?” Soonyoung placed a stuffed star four squares away. “Star!”

“Tar! Tar!” Yuna excitedly clapped her hands again and began to crawl towards the star. Soonyoung was heady with excitement. Their lesson-slash-playtime session was going well for the first two tries! When Yuna reached the star, he began to put another object, this time, five squares away. It was Yuna’s favorite outdoor toy. If you know Soonyoung, then you guessed it: a stuffed tiger. “Tiger!”

“Hosh!!! Hosh!!!” Yuna screamed with delight, much happier than before, and was faster this time. The crawling took only about five seconds. She wasn’t hesitant about this particular object—she knew that toy!

Soonyoung thought of you then. “Blame yourself, my love,” you said loudly for the cameras, “our daughter is calling tigers by my stage name!”

Yuna grabbed the tiger’s nose clumsily with finger and thumb. Her face was red with excitement, and her cheeks looked very much like Soonyoung’s when he was younger. “Hoooshi! Hooooshi!” She hugged the tiger close to her, her wings fluttering with her bouncy movements again.

NARRATOR: *AWWW! Everyone’s hearts just fluttered at this show of affection! She must really love her tiger!!!*

Soonyoung smiled again, before taking the tiger from Yuna. Yuna pouted, having been deprived of Hoshi the Tiger.

“Hey, look! Hoshi wants to race!!!” Soonyoung scooted over the carpet squares and made the tiger “run” across the carpet squares and into the playhouse, with Yuna following happily as fast as she could, her giggles sending warmth into the cameramen who were filming the whole thing.

However, once father and daughter were resting on the playhouse, Soonyoung noticed a strange smell. Sniffing and looking at Yuna, who was looking up at him innocently with her mother’s eyes, Soonyoung groaned. “Okay! Playtime’s over!!! Let’s change your diaper.”

TIPS ON HOW TO CHANGE A BABY’S DIAPER (according to Kwon Soonyoung):

Make sure the diaper you are using is fit for your baby’s skin—no matter how good the brand, it still depends on your baby!

Always sanitize changing areas, whether at home or outside, and keep away stuffed tigers while changing—they might catch the smell. Not so good for stuffed tigers like Hoshi the Tiger!

Make sure you throw the used diaper in a proper waste disposal. And don’t forget to take out the trash at the end of the day!

NEVER run out of diapers. It happened once to me while we were at an ocean park—and it was a very bad experience. #NeverForget

Wash your hands before and after!!!

10:00 A.M.

The doorbell rang, and Soonyoung tiptoed out of the living room, where he was rocking Yuna to sleep. She had changed from her clothes and her diaper, and she looked extremely adorable in her new tiger jumpsuit.

INTERVIEW WITH KWON SOONYOUNG, 30:

SOONYOUNG: (Nods at the camera and smiles.) That’s right. I made my wife buy that jumpsuit. My daughter can be a tiger, too! (Does his signature roaring pose.) Horanghae!!!

“Bbbabbujji?” Yuna asked you, all traces of sleepiness vanishing from her face.

Soonyoung grinned at her. “You’re probably wondering a lot, huh? Well, let’s see…” Soonyoung walked towards the door and grinned. “Hellooooooo, playmates!!!”

Jeon Eunha stepped in and bowed. “Good morning, Hoshi-samchon!”

Jeon Wonwoo grinned at Soonyoung and pushed up his glasses. “Hello, Yuna! Hello yourself, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung chuckled and made way for the visitors. “Come in! Come in!” He welcomed them into the spacious living room with a playpen on one side. Jeon Eunha immediately skipped away to the bookcase, studying the contents carefully.

“What’s she doing? And I’m so glad you made it, Wonwoo!”

“Let me see my goddaughter.” Jeon Wonwoo reached out like a fellow expert dad and drew Yuna to him. Yuna, who had begun to become aware of strangers just a month ago, didn’t seem to mind this handsome stranger who was now rocking her. “She’s getting even more and more beautiful!”

Soonyoung beamed like the proud dad he was. “That’s my girl right there!”

“Soonyoung-samchon,” Eunha gently tugged at Soonyoung, who bent down to ruffle her hair. The beautiful Jeon Eunha looked like an Athenian queen in the making, wisely holding a book again. “Can I read this to Yuna?”

“Of course!” Soonyoung smiled. “Yuna would love being read to!”

Eunha happily skipped again towards the playpen, where plushies were next to the bookcase. “Appa, take Yuna here! I’ll read to her!”

“Okay.” Wonwoo rubbed noses with the cute Yuna and said, “Let’s go to Eunha-unnie, Yuna!” And he went to where his daughter, who was opening the picture book she had. Yuna quickly warmed up to Eunha after a few minutes.

“Yuna loves her unnie,” Soonyoung commented, looking at the two affectionately. “Thanks for coming by, Wonu!”

Wonwoo grinned at him. “Hey, we planned this, remember? Our kids are going to play with each other. Eunha’s been asking and asking me when she saw Yuna on your Instagram while I was scrolling.”

“She’s a very wise girl.”

“She is!”

“I hope Yuna learns from her as she gets older!”

Wonwoo grinned and the two dads walked into the playpen as well, participating with Eunha’s reading session. She was reading “Peter Rabbit”, which had been translated into Korean. Yuna was paying close attention to the pictures as she sat on Eunha’s lap, touching the pictures of the rabbits and the fences and the letters.

Wonwoo and Soonyoung talked about dad stuff and SVT, zoning out of the little kids’ world as the cameras rolled.

INTERVIEW WITH KWON SOONYOUNG, 30:

Q: Does Jeon Wonwoo regularly visit your house with Eunha?

SOONYOUNG: (Beams.) Yes, and I’m very happy he keeps me company! We have always been close, but I think we got closer when we both became dads. He’s the second guy who gives advice to me about stuff. We usually talk on the phone, but as Eunha got older, she wanted to see other friends and go to places. She’s very sharp and bright for her age. (Soonyoung scratches his head.) It’s like Wonwoo carbon-copied himself on his daughter. I’m glad that Yuna has an unnie who takes care of her when they meet, someone she can learn from truly.

“Being a dad changes us, huh?” Wonwoo commented, staring at the two. Yuna has started to doze off on Eunha’s lap. “There’s a tenderness and strength to us that we never had when we were merely guys…husbands…this is different.”

Soonyoung nodded. “Yes. Really.” He sighed. “Yuna changed my life. Literally.”

Wonwoo smirked. “I bet.”

“Congratulations on the addition to the family, by the way!”

Wonwoo smiled wider. “Ah, could I get any happier?”

The two dads laughed.

Suddenly Yuna’s eyes opened and looked directly at Soonyoung. She looked like she was about to cry as her lips pursed menacingly.

Soonyoung knew exactly what to do. He leaned on the picket fence of the playpent and—you guessed it!—bumped his head on it. Thud. “Ow!”

Yuna burst out into a fit of giggles on Eunha’s lap. Eunha, too, did not look so much like the extraordinary three-and-a-half-year-old girl. She was putting her hands into her mouth, book forgotten, laughing as hard as Yuna.

Wonwoo was laughing, too. “You idiot. Stop doing that or she’ll keep asking for it! There are a lot of friendlier games.”

“What can I say?” Soonyoung stopped pretending to cry and grinned at Wonwoo. “Dads do stupid things sometimes, huh?”

Wonwoo nudged him with an elbow. “Not yet, please! I’m still not ready for the dad-jokes phase!”

“Now that I have been so ready for. But in the meantime,” Soonyoung bumped his head again. Thud. “Ow!”

Yuna, Eunha, and Wonwoo burst out laughing, along with the muffled laughter of everyone who was watching behind the cameras.

Judging from the thudding noises, it was going to be a great day for the Kwon residence.

EPISODES | Ep. 1| Ep. 2 | after-party | Ep. 3 | only us | Ep. 4 | afterglow | Ep. 5 | Ep. 6.1

- Admin Leanne

#seventeen #svtcreations #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #seventeen hoshi #kwon soonyoung #tiger hoshi #dad seventeen #svt dad au #seventeen wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #The Return of Superman

233 notes · View notes

litwitlady · 4 years

Text

What We Carry With Us

CW: Alex experiences a combat flashback in this fic. There’s mild depictions of blood and violence. Please read responsibly.

The snowstorm hits earlier than forecasted. Alex hadn’t expected to be locked away in Michael’s bunker while the snow accumulated up above. Hadn’t expected three feet of snow to fall so quickly with at least three more on the way. Hadn’t expected to be snowed in with no one but Michael Guerin for the foreseeable future.

Michael manages to shovel a path from the bunker to his airstream with his telekinesis. They hole up in the trailer for warmth, the generator prepared for a few lingering cold days. Alex doesn’t know what he and Michael are at the moment. Only knows they’ve been spending a lot of time together. Meals at the Crashdown, long discussions about Caulfield and family legacy down in the bunker, drinks at the Pony. Maybe it’s just friendship. Maybe it’s more. Maybe it’s both.

The point is – he doesn’t know. And there’s danger in not knowing.

Michael throws himself on his bed, kicking off his boots and propping himself up on his pillows. Arm thrown lazily behind his head. Alex watches out of the corner of his eye, still taken all these years later at the long, lean form he paints against crisp, clean sheets. It’s one of the main reasons his sheets never stay crisp or clean for very long.

Alex doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s standing awkwardly, shoulder sloping into Michael’s makeshift closet. The door nothing but prettied up plywood that scarcely holds his weight. He tries to act natural, but his brain keeps attacking him with explicit images of the last night he spent here. How he’d climbed behind Michael and fucked him so hard the thin bedframe started to splinter. And then waking up the next morning to Isobel and those goddamn bagels.

There’s a clock somewhere ticking, echoing loudly in the narrow trailer. Alex feels his eye start to twitch. Tries to think of something to say – anything to break this uncomfortable silence. He dares a glance at Michael. His eyes are closed, his breathing has deepened. Alex wonders at his ability to fall asleep in a moment this rife with tension. But then Michael’s hand pats the bed next to him. ‘You can sit down, Alex. I’m not going to bite unless you ask me to.’ He doesn’t bother opening his eyes, but his lips quirk up. Doesn’t need to see Alex to know the effect he has on him – will always have on him.

It's a risk. Getting that close. But then Michael looks at him, eyes filled with a naked need, and Alex is moving as quickly as he can to close the distance between them. Falling on the flat mattress at Michael’s feet. He hates himself just a little. For all the ways he never says ‘no’. For all the ways he always says ‘no’. And how quickly he manages the contradiction.

But he’s trying to change that.

Michael pushes himself up a little higher on his pillows. ‘Can I ask you a question?’ Lines are suddenly furrowed across his forehead. They put Alex on edge immediately.

‘Okay.’ Alex sounds hesitant, worried. And he is those things, but he’s also curious. He watches Michael bite at his bottom lip, running the question back and forth in his mind. Working out the kinks and formulating the perfect calculus.

‘You’re going to think this is weird. And it probably is. So, feel free to tell me to fuck off.’ He’s fiddling with the bottom button on his shirt, pushing and pulling through the wrong buttonhole. Alex can’t help but fixate on the small patches of skin he keeps exposing. He knows every inch of Michael’s body, can feel that precise stretch of skin yawn beneath his fingertips, and yet he’s still such a marvel.

Alex settles back against the headboard that doubles as a kitchen wall. ‘Whatever I’m imaging in my head right now is probably way worse.’ He shrugs and picks at his cuticles. Heartrate slightly elevated. He notices how close their knees are, wonders what would happen if his leg crossed that invisible barrier to rub against Michael’s. Would there be any room left in the airstream for questions? For any words at all?

The yellowed newspaper normally taped to the window has come loose and is flapping softly against the glass. Michael reaches up to flatten the corner back into place, but the act is futile. ‘What was it like over there? In the Middle East?’

Immediately, a distant desert landscape unfolds in Alex’s mind. He’s back in Iraq, at that tiny village market. A bright Friday morning. Sun so low he can feel his skin burn. The hustle and bustle of people kicking up the dirt and dust, his eyes watering. In the muddy road, there’s a boy kicking a soccer ball. A little girl cries in her mother’s arms. Several dogs sniff the food stalls. A group of men are having tea outside a small bakery. And then the world is upside down. The earth shakes with so much screaming. The spray of someone’s blood soaking through his fatigues. A sudden, searing heat and his skin on fire.

He comes to with Michael violently shaking him. Shouting his name in frantic whispers. But Alex can’t hear him. There are tears falling down his face, dotting his t-shirt with little minuscule constellations. His hands are shaking and his breathing ragged. Michael’s hands have moved from his shoulders into his hair, pulling their foreheads together. Alex concentrates on the jagged edges of Michael’s half-chewed fingernails scraping across the sensitive skin of his scalp. Syncs his breathing to that soothing back and forth scratch.

When sound returns, Michael is saying sorry on repeat. Alex takes several deep breaths and puts his hands on Michael’s chest, pushing gently. Wanting to calm him but also needing space. Alex reaches up and rips the flapping newspaper from the window, flattening his palm across the freezing glass. The cold grounding him in time and place. He continues to breath for several more minutes. Michael has gone silent.

Alex’s heartrate slowly returns to normal and he grabs Michael’s hand. ‘I’m okay. I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting that. Just got caught off-guard. That hasn’t happened in months.’

‘No, Alex, I shouldn’t have asked. And with no warning. I’m so, so sorry.’ Michael’s hands reach out for Alex but stop short. The rules have changed, and he doesn’t want to make another mistake. Doesn’t want to end up hurting Alex more than he already has. He balls his hands into fists and drops them at his side. ‘Do you need anything? Some water?’

‘Water would be good.’ His throat is dry, and he knows Michael needs something to do. While Michael digs through his mini-fridge, Alex hugs his good knee to his chest and stares down at the indent in his jeans where his prosthesis ends. He tries to curl the toes on his right foot, but, of course, nothing happens. He hates how much his chest still aches at the disappointment. He’s never told anyone about that day. Decides to change that as Michael returns with bottled water.

‘Thanks.’ He uncaps the water and gulps down half the bottle in one go. He swipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and tugs Michael back down onto the bed. They sit facing each other, legs touching at every point possible – Alex no longer needing or wanting the extra space. Just the opposite, actually. He places the water down behind his head and grabs for Michael’s hands. ‘I’m glad you asked – despite what just happened. I feel like if I was allowed to talk about it more, I might be able to heal better. But no one ever wants the truth about my service, about my leg. Everyone just wants a hero to martyr on main street. A celebration and a parade. A purple heart for the front-page picture. And in all that, I get lost.’

Michael pushes a stray lock of Alex’s hair behind his ear. ‘You’re never lost to me. I always see you. Maybe sometimes I just don’t know how to ask. I guess that’s pretty obvious by now.’

Alex smiles at him and puts his hands on Michael’s knees, using them to center his focus for what he’s about to say. ‘You know, war is often boring. You sit in makeshift buildings in crumbling old air bases or bake beneath the desert sun in stitched together tent cities. You talk about home and play cards. Go on routine missions that result in fucking nothing. Wake up, repeat. Wake up, repeat. And so much of that was not bad. So much of that was forging an odd sense of family. Which felt good.’

Outside the snow has briefly turned to ice. The wind has picked up and the trailer sways. The temperature has dropped despite the generator’s best work. Michael grabs a blanket from beneath them and spreads it across their laps. Searches underneath for Alex’s hands on his knees. Waits for him to continue.

Alex inhales deeply, squeezes Michael’s knees and keeps going. ‘There are maybe a handful of days when anything big happens on purpose. Missions you understand are likely to go south sooner rather than later. Moments when you stare at a living, breathing person. Finger on a trigger. And every time you squeeze that trigger, so much time spent trying to convince yourself you’ve saved American lives. But you haven’t. All you’ve done is commit murder. And all you are is a murderer.’

He feels Michael flinch at that word – ‘murderer’. But it’s the truth Alex has to live with for the rest of his life. And now, so does Michael. Michael, the not so secret alien. Alex, the not so secret murderer. One of those things decidedly worse than the other.

‘You’re not –,’

Michael tries, but Alex will not let him. ‘I am. And no one – especially not you – gets to pretend otherwise.’ Alex is staring him down. Eyes wide and as serious as he’s ever been. Holding his breath waiting for Michael’s acceptance. Otherwise, the conversation is over. And perhaps so much more.

There’s a showdown happening between them. He can feel Michael’s resistance. Is surprised when Michael slides impossibly closer, practically climbing into his lap. Large, familiar hands on his cheeks – his head held steady, golden-hazel eyes boring into his own. ‘You’ve killed people, Alex. I get that. I do. And I hate the fucking military, so I know there was no noble reason for what you did. That American patriotism is a scourge upon this planet. It preys upon the most vulnerable among us. Scared kids with nowhere else to go. I have understood that since the day you left for basic. Better than you, even. I have never and will never see you as a murderer. I have never and will never love you any less.’

They are both right and they are both wrong. And for the first time, that’s okay.

Michael places his hand on Alex’s right leg. At the exact spot where what remains of his leg gives way to his prosthesis. ‘You don’t have to tell me now. But I’d like to know what happened when you’re ready.’

Alex rubs the sore muscles in his thigh. ‘Suicide bomber. Well, three suicide bombers. We weren’t on mission. Just visiting a village market on a quiet Friday morning.’

Michael shoves Alex’s hands aside, replacing them with his own. Massaging the knots out with his talented fingers.

He sighs and continues. ‘I don’t remember much other than the putrid smell of burning flesh. May not have even been my own. Everything erupted into chaos. My ankle had been severed by a burning piece of twisted metal. They had to field amputate my foot. I woke up in Germany with a bad infection. More surgery, less leg. But I was lucky. We were a squadron of ten and then we were three.’

Neither says anything for a long time. What is there to say anyway?

Alex yawns. Michael can see the exhaustion settling in around his eyes. ‘You should sleep. It’s getting late.’ The sun long since disappeared beyond the horizon. ‘Take the bed. I’ll crash in my chair.’

But Alex won’t let him leave. ‘Help me with the prosthetic.’ Together they remove Alex’s pants and free his leg. Michael strips down to just his boxer briefs. Alex follows suit. They curl together underneath the wool blanket. Michael tucking Alex into the crook of his shoulder. Alex’s arm tossed across Michael’s stomach, fingers stroking at the soft skin along his ribcage.

‘Thank you for telling me.’ Michael whispers the words into Alex’s hair, following them with a kiss. Alex stretches his neck up and Michael bends down to kiss him on the mouth. Slow and easy.

There’s a clock somewhere ticking, rhythmic and lulling. And as the snow piles up outside, they fall into the best sleep of their lives.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #i've wrestled with this for days #pretty sure i'll never be satisfied #content warnings above #angst and very serious topics

97 notes · View notes

impalaimagining · 4 years

Text

Guarded - Part 3

Jensen Ackles x Amanda, background Dean Winchester x Felicity

3,116 words

Warnings: bad past relationships, angst

*Written for Amanda as the next part of her Shotgun Riders series!

- unbeta’d

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Jensen’s alarm sounded, pulling you from your slumber with a groan. You stretched and regretted it immediately at the protest of the muscles in your arms and legs. You felt Jensen shift beside you as you fumbled to find your phone on the nightstand.

“Mornin’.” His gravelly voice rumbled in your ear.

You whined and burrowed your head back into the pillow. “Don’t wanna.”

“I know.” Jensen chuckled, his hand rubbing down your spine gently. “How’re you feelin’?” You shook your head, face still smashed into the white cotton below you. “Hey.” He stopped the movement of his hand, splaying it out in the center of your back as his thumb rubbed your skin gently. You turned your head to the side and cracked one eye open to squint at him. “Why don’t you take it easy today? They can find a way to work something else into the schedule for your panel slot.”

You shot up, shaking your head. “No, no way. I won’t - I can’t do that.” You popped your back and sat up straight. “I need to get back to my room and shower.”

“Do it here.” Jensen dismissed with a wave of his hand as he checked the time on his phone. “I’m catching another few.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed as Jensen’s hand found your hip and pulled you backwards toward him. “Thought I was supposed to get a shower.” You quirked a brow as the corner of your mouth ticked up in a smirk.

Jensen shook his head. “Stay with me.” He nuzzled into your shoulder as you laid with your back to him. “Five more minutes.” You chuckled and closed your eyes, Jensen’s fingers tracing gentle lines across your hip.

His alarm went off again and you whimpered, the sound startling you out of the shallow dream you’d fallen into. “Son of a bitch.” Jensen rubbed his eye with the back of his hand. “I ever told you how much I hate timezones?”

You smiled softly, eyes still closed. “No, I don’t think you have.” You rolled over to face him, laying your hand on his upper arm. “Why don’t you tell me later while we’re walking to the panel.” You patted his chest and rolled over, throwing your legs off the side of the bed. “I’m going back to my room to shower.” You stretched your back and stood up, knees shaky under the full weight of your body.

“Seriously.” Jensen ran his hand over his hair. “Why don’t you take the day off? After last night, you could probably use it.”

“I’m not the one with a busted cheek.” You tilted your head. “Maybe you need to take it easy today.”

Jensen shook his head. “Been through worse before a convention.” He reasoned.

With a roll of your eyes, you grabbed your shoes and hooked them on your fingers, putting your other hand on the doorknob. “Can’t wait to see those photo ops online.” You winked and padded just down the hall in socked feet.

“Hey.” Jared gave you a warm smile when he met you and Jensen in the hall on the way to the main theater. “How ya feelin’?”

“About as good as you look.” You teased. “I don’t know why you two are so worried about me. You’re the ones who took the brunt of it.”

Jared shook his head and opened his mouth to talk, but Jensen shot him a look and cut him off. “Let’s just go get our coffee and try to get the morning started, okay?” Jensen painted on a tight smile and looked between you and Jared. He dropped his voice and muttered to himself, eyes lingering on you. “Even though I wish you would’ve just stayed in bed…”

You waited for Jared to walk ahead of you before you pulled Jensen back by the back of his shirt. “Jensen.” You whispered. “Please don’t act like I’m some fragile piece of glass after last night. I’m so glad you were there, but I would’ve survived either way.”

Jensen stopped, grabbing your forearm. He shook his head and looked down. “I’m sorry, but you don’t know that.”

The weight of his words hit you like a train. You could’ve died. You probably would have died if Jared and Jensen hadn’t been with you. You owed them your life.

“Hey!” Jared called over his shoulder as he looked back at the two of you. “Y’all comin’ or what?”

While Jared and Jensen did their morning panel for the gold admission package holders, you started your day in the green room, alone at first, and then joined by the likes of Rob and Rich and the rest of Louden Swain, Jason popping in and out every few minutes. After the gold panel, the guys left for the theater, officially kicking the day off for everyone else at the convention.

Jared strutted into the green room, his straw making that awful suction noise as he finished his iced coffee. “Find anything good in here?” He walked to the table of food against the wall. You hadn’t actually noticed the food, too occupied with trying to distract yourself from the weight of Jensen’s comment.

“Huh?” You looked up, pony shaking your head to clear yourself out of your daze. “Oh, um, no.” You cleared your throat and stood up. “I should probably eat something before I don’t have time to eat though, huh?” You forced a smile.

Jared’s brows furrowed together. He turned to face you when you walked over to the table. “You feelin’ alright?”

“I - yeah.” You nodded without looking at Jared, but the weak facade quickly dissolved and you found yourself on the verge of tears as you shook your head. “No. No, I’m not.”

Jared’s hand fell to your shoulder and he walked you to the couch, sitting you at one end while he situated himself in the chair beside the sofa. “What’s going on?”

“It’s - I don’t know. This morning, Jensen said to me that no one knows if I would’ve made it out of there alive last night if you two hadn’t been there.” Your voice cracked and your eyes burned with unshed tears. “And I didn’t think about it until he said it, but he’s right. Who knows what those guys would’ve done to me, Jared.”

Jared moved quickly from the chair and sat beside you, pulling you into a hug. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. We were there.”

You curled into his embrace, clutching his shirt in your hand as you sobbed. “You guys saved my life.”

Jensen walked in, the smile on his face shifting into an open-mouthed stare as he took in the sight in front of him. Jared looked up and met Jensen's eyes, giving a slight shake of his head to answer Jensen’s silent question.

Jensen crept toward the couch, kneeling down beside you and resting his hand on your knee. You jumped at the contact and looked at him, startled. “It’s just me.” Jensen said calmly. You turned at the sound of his voice and fell against Jensen’s chest. “Yeah.” He held you tightly. “I know. I’ve got you.” His arms cradled you against his body as he shifted and shooed Jared away and moved the two of you to the couch where you’d been before. Jared offered Jensen an empathetic smile and exited the room, making his way to his solo photo op session.

“I’m sorry.” Your apology flowed from your lips on a broken sob.

Jensen’s hand rubbed softly between your shoulder blades. “Stop. None of this is your fault.” He kissed the top of your head. “I really think you should get back upstairs and take the day off.”

You pulled back and looked up at him, shaking your head. “I don’t want to, Jensen. I want to do this. I need to do this.” You wiped your tears furiously on the back of your hand. “I’m stronger than this.”

“You have nothing to prove to anyone.”

“Jensen.” You huffed, sniffling. “You and Jared have come to cons busted up after bad nights before. I can do this.”

Jensen raised a hand in surrender, keeping the other arm secured around you. “Whatever you need, okay?”

You reached out and held Jensen’s hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. “I need to do this. I want to go back to my room and wash my face and fix my makeup, but I will come back down here and go out on that stage.”

“You know where I’ll be.” Jensen leaned in and kissed your forehead, laying his hand on the side of your face as he cupped your jaw. He pulled his lips away from your skin and leaned his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses bumping gently before he pressed his lips against yours.

You walked into the theater behind the black curtains hanging from the metal structure above the stage. As Rob and the band played your introduction song and you made your way up the steps, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. Placing your hand on the railing, you ascended the small staircase and popped onto stage.

The crowd applauded and cheered, though the theater was a bit more empty than you’d expected. Jared and Jensen were doing their duo photo ops, so you imagined that’s where the occupants of the empty seats were.

“Hi!” You painted on a smile and waved at the people still clapping for you. “How’s everybody doing?” They continued shouting, and you noticed a few people lining up along the sides of the crowd to ask you questions. “Alright, I don’t wanna talk too much,” you laughed nervously, “so let’s get this thing started.”

Fans asked about your time on set, what kind of plotline you’d like to see for Felicity, where you thought the love story between her and Dean was going - or at least, what you could tell them without spoiling anything.

You saw the signal from the side of the stage. Liz was flagging you down, telling you there were only a few minutes left. “Okay.” You turned to the next person in line at the microphone. “This might be the last question we have time for. No pressure.” You grinned.

“Well,” the woman at the microphone started, “I know a million people have already asked about how it is on set with the guys, but I was wondering - sorry, this is a little more personal. I was wondering if you could tell us what Jared and Jensen have come to mean to you? As people, as part of your life outside of the show.”

Your throat felt tight as soon as she finished her question. Your eyes burned and the air left your lungs. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out other than the squeak of a sob caught in the back of your throat. With a quick shake of your head, you dropped the microphone and covered your face with your hands.

Jensen ran on stage and threw his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. “You got this.” He whispered as Jared followed behind him, coming onto the stage with a wave to the crowd and a nervous smile.

“Hey, y’all.” Jared plucked your mic off the ground and attempted to distract everyone, stepping in front of you so they couldn’t see.

Jensen held your face, running the pad of his thumb under your eye and wiping the tear from your cheekbone. He tilted your head up so you were looking at him. “You’re okay.” He spoke softly, speaking to only you. He was having a very private conversation in front of a very non-private audience. Cameras flashed and the ding of phones starting video recordings sounded around you.

“Jensen, I-”

“No.” He stared into your eyes. “You’re going to be okay. You can do this. You need to do this.” He echoed your sentiments. “So take that mic from Jared, turn to that crowd, and finish off this panel. We’re not going anywhere.”

“What?” You raised your brows.

“You heard me. We’re staying right here. Jared and I are finishing this with you.” He smiled and ran his thumb gently under your eye again.

You nodded and pulled away from Jensen, taking the microphone from Jared’s hand, cutting him off much to the amusement of the fans. “Sorry about that.” You painted on a smile as Jensen’s arm fell around your shoulders again. “Where were we?”

“I think you were telling them how much you love us.” Jared winked.

“Yeah, something like that.” You shoved Jared’s chest playfully and answered the question, explaining how much Jared and Jensen did for you, the way they kept your safe, how overall genuine they both were. “Oh, I’m getting the time’s up signal and,” Rob jumped through the curtain and joined you on stage, “the band’s back! That’s our cue.” You looked at Jared first, and then Jensen. “Exit, stage… uh, through there. Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon!” You giggled, laying your microphone on the chair and waving a goodbye to the fans. Jensen’s hand fell from your shoulder to around your waist, pulling you into his side before he ushered you down the steps behind the curtains.

He tightened his grip on you and kissed your temple. “Told you.” He said quietly.

You dismissed him and shook your head. “What’s up next?”

“We’ve got photo ops.” Jared motioned between the two of them. “With Misha.”

“She’s coming with us.” Jensen stated boldly. “She can hang out with Clif over on the side. We’ll figure it out. But she’s with us - with me.” He looked at his handler and nodded. “For the rest of the day.” Jensen’s handler quickly tapped the microphone on her headset and spoke into it, letting the other handlers know about the change in plans.

The day flew by in a blur, people squealing and crying in and out of the photo op room. Jensen sneaking sips of his whiskey and coke behind the photo op backdrop kept you entertained for the better part of the time you spent in the photo op room. Clif filled the rest of your time with stories, mentions of his wife and their trips.

“Hey.” Jensen stepped away from the backdrop. “They’re done with me for the day.”

“Okay.” You smiled up at him, grabbing his drink from his hand and finishing it off.

“Let’s go grab another couple of those before autos, yeah?” He shot you a wink and you nodded, disappearing behind the backdrop as Clif followed the two of you, shaking his head.

After the long night spent in the green room while Jared and Jensen were at their autograph sessions, you piled into the SUV with Jensen and Jared, Clif driving the three of you back to your hotel.

The three of you had found your happy place, riding out a collective buzz as you talked and giggled in the backseat.

“Hey.” You stopped the idle conversation, laying your hand on Jensen’s thigh. “Thank you.” Jensen frowned. “For earlier, I mean. Thank you - both of you,” you turned to Jared, “for saving my ass up there.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jared brushed your thanks away with a wave of his hand. “We gotcha.” He winked sloppily and turned his attention to his phone.

You squeezed Jensen’s leg, grabbing his attention. “I mean it.” You said quietly. “Thank you.”

Jensen lifted his arm, beckoning you under it and wrapping it around you, pulling you close. “You’re welcome.” He kissed you, just above your ear. “Whatever you need, babe.” You nuzzled into Jensen’s side and hummed as you closed your eyes. Laying your hand on his chest, you tipped your head up and kissed him.

Back in the hallway leading to your hotel room, you laced your fingers with Jensen’s until you reached your door. “Night.” You squeezed his hand, pulling away from him slowly.

“Yeah, night.” He smiled, not releasing your hand. Before you could turn fully, he pulled you back and his lips smashed into yours. “Goodnight.” He mumbled into the kiss. “See you in the morning.” Jared scoffed and rolled his eyes at the two of you, trudging back to his own room.

Reluctantly, you peeled yourself away from Jensen’s kiss, fumbling in your back pocket for your key card. Jensen lingered, but you waved him away as you slid the key into the slot and the light flashed green, unlocking the door. You pushed inside, waving goodbye to Jensen again before closing the door and your eyes as you leaned back against it. When you opened your eyes again, you drew your brows together as you caught a glimpse of an envelope perched on the end of your bed.

You peeled it open, unfolding the paper inside. As your eyes raked over the words printed on the page and the signature at the bottom, your mind flashed back to the first night Jensen had accompanied you to your trailer on set. You dropped the letter and ran for the door, throwing it open and shouting down the hall. “Jensen!” You called out. “Jensen, come back!”

Jensen turned on his heel and ran back to you, his shoes thudding on the carpeted floor. “What? What happened?” He ran his hand through his hair before he pushed past you and into your hotel room. “What’s wrong?” He looked back at you over his shoulder.

You bent and picked up the letter off the floor, handing it to Jensen with a shaky hand. “He - this is from him.”

Jensen’s eyes skimmed the page, reading the words, reading the threats. Logan. He swore he’d get to you, no matter what it took. Jensen dragged his eyes up from the paper in his hands. When his gaze fell on you, he watched you crumble in front of him, falling onto the end of the bed and sobbing into your palms.

All you wanted was one weekend. One night away from the nightmare that haunted you from your past. One day away from Logan.

Jensen sat beside you and wrapped you in his arms. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” You twisted the fabric of Jensen’s shirt in your fingers. “I’m here.”

The last thing you wanted to be was vulnerable, but you were drunk, in a hotel room where your stalker - or at the very least someone your stalker had hired - had been within the last twelve hours. Your words were muffled, your mouth pressed against the cotton covering Jensen’s chest, but you meant them with every piece of your heart. “I need you, Jensen.”

gif: x

Have something to say? Questions? Comments?

Like what you see? Want to support my writing?

Early Access On Patreon

Forever Tags: @atc74 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @beththedemonhunter @blacktithe7 @caswinchester2000 @countrygal17a @danathewitchywoman @deansgirl7695 @deanwanddamons @elizzysnow13 @ellen-reincarnated1967 @emoryhemsworth @esoltis280 @essie1876 @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @heartsaved @hillface89 @holyfuckloueh @hunterpuff @in-deans-arms @ladylachesis @lilredniki @linki-locks11 @mottergirl99 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @notyourtypicalrose @plaid-lover-bay25 @riversong-sam @sandlee44 @sea040561 @shaelyn102 @smoothdogsgirl @soulmates8 @speakinvain @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnbaby-67 @supernatural3002 @superromijn @tumblr-tidbits @vicmc624 @voltage-my2dlove @wayward-gypsy

Jensen Tags: @adoptdontshoppets @ashki8278 @cherrycokegirls1 @clarewinchester @dean-winchesters-bacon @deanandsamsbitch @deansgirl215 @fandom-princess-forevermore @iamabeautifulperson18 @lessons-of-red @mereka18 @princessofthefandomrealm @shamelesslydean @torn-and-frayed @yoursmilemakesmeloveyou

Guarded Tags: @dean-is-my-superhero @deanw-is-pretty @for-a-brothers-love @ilovetoread44 @it-could-go-off @kalesrebellion @muchamusedaboutnothing @puppies-make-me-extra-happy @to-have-deans-love @vicmc624 @wayward-gypsy

#Jensen x Reader #Jensen Ackles x Reader #Jensen x you #Jensen Ackles x you #Jensen Ackles #reader insert #imagine Jensen Ackles #Supernatural RPF #SPN RPF #Supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #SPN fanfiction #SPN fanfic #imagine Supernatural #Imagine SPN #Supernatural x Reader #Supernatural x you #Guarded #Guarded series

73 notes · View notes