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gumnut-logic · 2 months

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Along the Way (Part 4)

I've been re-reading Alexander Sweetapple while feeling crappy over the last few days and am ever so grateful for all the support this series has received from everyone. Apologies for all the delays on this fic. And extra special thanks to both @womble1 and @idontknowreallywhy for adding their glorious talents to this universe as well.

I managed to dig up the next part and write a chunk of it tonight, so here we have more of this fic. It's getting there, I promise.

Many thanks to the wonderful @onereyofstarlight for feilding my call for a read through yet again. You are wonderful, m'dear.

I hope you enjoy it. I also hope to write some more asap.

-o-o-o-

He had managed to help the young woman get free of the pile of what felt like wood pinning her legs. They had little light, but with her permission, Alex investigated the source of the pain in…”I’m sorry, what is your name?”

Her voice was shaky. “Elizabeth.”

He sent her a smile but then realised she probably couldn’t see it. “Nice to meet you, Elizabeth.”

Her nervous laugh lightened the dark atmosphere just a little.

“I’m Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Her voice trailed off into a whisper and then a whimper as his fingers found the injury to her leg.

Damp and sticky.

Damn.

It was impossible to tell exactly how much damage had been done, but as far as he could tell she had a gash in her leg.

She was crying again.

“It’s okay, we’ll get this bound up and then start looking for a way out of here.”

He wrenched at his shirt, attempting to get the fabric to tear. A brief curse at the simplicity of movie medical situations and what was actually possible; and a fingernail split enough threads to tear a hole. Another few yanks and he decimated whatever the hell he was wearing, but managed to get a strip of fabric long enough to bind Elizabeth’s leg. It didn’t seem to be bleeding too badly.

Next problem.

There were still other people nearby, he could hear various whimpers and a man yelled for help. What Alex needed to do was determine where the hell ‘here’ was and find an exit.

God, he wished Virgil was here.

A blink.

Alex swallowed. Okay, they really needed to get out of here.

But again, he was drawn back to the problem of exactly where ‘here’ was.

His head was pounding and working far slower than he was used to. It was frustrating.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” The shape that was Elizabeth was turned towards him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Bit of a headache. Just thinking about how to get out of here.”

She drew in a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

He was in Gisborne.

The thought came to him suddenly and glaringly.

Gisborne. Why was he in Gisborne?

The throb in his head made thinking so hard. An image of Erica shooing him out of his lab.

He blinked dust out of his eyes. Erica was always shooing him out of his lab. She smotherhenned him within an inch of his life sometimes.

And he loved her for it.

His world was so different from what it had been before. He was so lucky. He was able to create what needed creating. He had the support of some of the most powerful people in the world.

Unassuming powerful people who offered him coffee and a smile.

So lucky.

“Alex? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh?”

The darkness had him wanting to close his eyes.

But he couldn’t.

Because it was a symptom of a head injury.

Holographic Scott Tracy said so.

“Yeah, I’m good.” A deep breath, laden with dust and moisture. Water was still dripping somewhere. “We’re in Gisborne.”

“Yes, we are. In the Tairiwhiti Museum.” Elizabeth’s voice was steadier. “In the cafe.”

In the cafe?

Mum.

“I was here with my mother!” He desperately tried to draw information from his foggy memory. “She…” Where was she? His heart hurt to think of her lying somewhere in this darkness. He raised his voice. “Doctor Sweetapple?!” A struggled breath. “Mum?!”

Several voices answered, crying out for help.

None were his mother.

He swallowed. Walk it through.

He needed to find his mum.

He needed to help these people.

And they needed to get out of here.

As if reading his intentions, the floor he and Elizabeth were sitting on groaned, and something in the distance snapped like a gunshot.

And the whole building moved.

Alex yelled as the floor tipped, sliding downhill with a screaming screech. He grabbed Elizabeth and the nearest fixture in the dark and clung to both in the roar of snapping crumbling wood and brick.

Until it all slammed to a stop, wood raining down on them both.

The silence that followed was marred by the sound of rushing water.

The building was now on an angle, dust falling past them.

Elizabeth was crying in his arms while he desperately attempted to catch his breath and calm his racing heart.

At least he now had a direction. Up was likely out.

And they needed to get out now.

-o-o-o-

“Alex is here…in Gisborne?” The words drifted from Virgil’s throat as he stared at small holographic Scott standing on his wrist.

“Yes, he went there for lunch with his mother.”

Virgil looked at the devastated landscape around him. Alex was somewhere in this?

He straightened his shoulders. “Do we have any idea of his location?”

John appeared beside Scott. “His credit card was last used at the Farmer’s Market. Street camera footage has him and his mother walking across the Peel Street bridge half an hour before the quake hit.”

The fact that neither of those systems were able to be accessed by ‘unauthorised’ personnel was completely ignored.

The fact the Peel Street bridge was now in the river it was supposed to span was far from encouraging either.

Virgil was currently standing on the remains of one of the taller buildings in the city, so he could see across the devastation towards the river and the remains of the markets where Alex might be.

He swallowed his instinctive reaction down, his need to be there immediately, the need to find his…friend.

He swallowed again, pushing his heart into his boots and straightened. His brother’s news had come just as they pulled the last out of the building beneath his feet. “Thunderbird Five, where are we needed next?”

His holographic brothers didn’t respond immediately, John’s hands darting across controls Virgil could not see. Scott’s expression was one Virgil did not want to parse.

Not now.

But John understood. “Local services are requesting liquefaction assistance along the Portside riverbank. Thunderbird Two is needed along with some rescuee extraction.”

“FAB.” Virgil turned, his exosuit wheezing with every movement.

“Thunderbird One will attend Gisborne shortly. I just need to finish up here. ETA fifteen minutes.” The Commander’s voice hid everything.

Virgil nodded, thankful for holographic technology, his throat suddenly tight.

“We will find him, Virgil.”

Another nod.

“FAB.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #alexander sweetapple #virgil tracy #scott tracy #john tracy #nuttyfic #gotta write it before i can read it #drat it #all the apologies to Gisborne #I'm sorry

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stuffman-main · 1 year

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alright so the plot has gotten pretty hard to follow even for me, so let's recap Stuffman's Journey in Game Dev.

GHOST NUN

i quit my job to make an attempt at full-time game dev, and ghost nun won the initial poll for which of four game ideas i would try to make first.

it was a harsh learning experience. though i had put together proof-of-concept demos for various game ideas before, i slowly discovered that i had dramatically overestimated my programming ability, and dramatically underestimated the time it would take to produce a full game of the scope and graphical fidelity i wanted.

i spent the first year of full time dev and most of my savings to produce a demo with two dungeons that nobody liked, and it would not be easily retooled because of how badly it was programmed.

as of today the project is fully scrapped. if I ever revisit the concept it will have to be remade from scratch. (creating a demake with my faux NES engine is something I've considered.)

WAR OF THE SPROUTS (v1)

so after that mess, the idea here was that a strategy game would be much less demanding to make in terms of assets - once you've got your tileset and unit sprites you're pretty much good. right?

of everything on this list, wots was the biggest passion project, which is why i kept coming back to it. being a longtime advance wars fan, this bad boy has ten years of theorycrafting and lore behind it.

progress was still slow due to inexperience, as the first version of the engine was full of hard-coded UI that had to be adjusted over and over again. regardless, a playable build with fully functional units and commanders came together. but progress stalled once it came time to work on the AI, my savings ran out, and I had to pick up a part-time job. my stint with full-time game dev was over.

ASTROLANCER

so, let's go with something even simpler, I thought. astrolancer is (in theory) an easy project to break into small, digestible bits ideal for working on in one's free time (unlike the eight hour debug sessions one must spend while attempting to wrangle a strategy game AI). make a weapon here. make a new enemy there. the decision to stick to a mostly authentic NES aesthetic made the graphics easy to approach, too.

it worked well enough. the game's engine and first stage came together pretty well over the first few months. then, an unxpected boon - covid lockdown gave me a few more months of focused dev time, and i managed to finish about half the game in this time. the demo was reasonably well-received too. unfortunately, i ended up broke, and it was time to go back to work…full-time, this time. progress basically stopped after that, as we all know that wage slavery is the bane of creative energy.

next year, though, another opportunity presented itself - i would be stuck at home for about four months taking care of my grandma, who had destroyed her ankle. that would be just enough time to finish astrolancer, i thought…! but i thought wrong, because grandma was helpless and taking care of her left me with little true free time. i got basically nothing done in the first 2 months.

WAR OF THE SPROUTS v2

realizing astrolancer wasn't going to be finished, and really wanting to get back to my passion project, i decided to take advantage of my much-improved programming skills and take another whack at wots. my reasoning was that if I could hammer out an engine quickly enough, the only thing I would have to do from that point on would be writing, art, and map design - things that wouldn't be stressful to do on weekends (my motivation to open up visual studio while recovering from the workweek was nil). it was successful to an extent - the new engine has a scripting system to automatically create UI windows and the code was much cleaner. unfortunately, time ran out when I encountered my old nemesis, the AI, and the game has remained untouched since my return to work.

UNTITLED FAIRY H-GAME

"fuck it let's just make a fucking rpgmaker game. it'll be full of horny fairies. it'll be great." you would've had to be following my pinup blog to know about this one.

after spending some time on character designs, though, i realized there was no fucking way i'd be able to draw all those cgs while also suffering the wrist strain from work.

WAR-O-MATIC

the AI girl game has a title now! believe it or not, this concept is almost as old as wots is, and is sort of its sister game. i planned to make it after releasing wots though, because it's much more experimental in terms of balance.

anyway, at this point i was thinking "what other options do I have"? what if I just took the existing wots v2 engine and made a different game that removed all the game elements that made the AI really hard to program? no transports, no fog of war, simplified powers…and an artstyle and cast that wouldn't put too much stress on my wrist. there's no reason it shouldn't work.

there was a lot of game math and balance theorycrafting to do from scratch, but that stuff is fun.

what wasn't fun was going back to AWBW after a few years to make sure I still understood the game, and discovering that I absolutely do not because I lost every single match. this has not been good for my confidence in my ability to make a good AW clone.

present day, present time

this was just recently. last week i thought of revisiting the fairy game (which is where the sprite on the pinups blog came from), and the last two weeks at work i've been running over the story in my head, coming up with spell lists, etc. i've been managing my wrist strain better and my new tablet is easier to use, "so maybe i can pull it off after all", i thought.

then, just last night, as if accosted by a foul-mouthed muse, I was struck loudly by a thought.

"JUST FINISH ASTROLANCER, YOU STUPID FUCK."

there is merit to the idea, i decided. it is the game in the furthest state of completion. the only one of two that is actually playable, and the only one of those two that doesn't suck ass.

then, this morning, that ask appeared in my inbox. it's a sign.

that's the plan. i'm going to try to finish astrolancer.

(to actually answer the question, i'm working on the stage 4 boss.)

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honeyhotteoks · 2 years

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hi, i’m actually an avid reader of yours who found you on ao3, and i just wanted to tell you that you incorporate idol boyfriend delusions and slice of life so well in your work ㅠㅠ that’s a weird way of putting it, but it’s also the only way i can lol

on another note, i’m actually a bit envious w how you have so much drive to write ! i used to write tons myself until i got burned out so badly that i couldn’t even look at my drafts anymore. real life and other things have kept me away from writing as a whole, but your work has slowly made me miss penning my own stories?? the power you hold, i Swear

that’s why i wanted to ask: how do you manage to write even with your daily responsibilities? i thought i could use some insight, especially from one of my current fave writers.

no pressure in answering tho! i really just wanted you to know that you’re amazing enough to inspire another burned out writer to rekindle the love they had for their craft again :)

first of all, this is maybe one of the biggest compliments i've ever received and i can't thank you enough. i've talked a little bit about this before, but to be completely transparent before i got into ateez i hadn't written a word in maybe five or so years. i was deep in burnout after years of writing fic for other fandoms and writing creatively for myself. so please know that you are not alone, i've absolutely been there.

as far as managing to write, this is a tough one. i work 40-50 hours a week at my full time job and i live with my partner, plus with friends and real life things going on, it's hard. what i've found works really well for me is a combination of early morning and late night writing depending on the day. however i do want to acknowledge that i'm very privileged in the sense that i work from home and my job has somewhat flexible hours, so i'm not dealing with juggling a commute or a rigid schedule.

most days i get up between 6am and 7am, and i'll get my morning started with my normal routine, and then from 7am to 9am (when i start work) i'll usually write. when work gets slow sometimes i'll write then too, or if both of those times fail and it's a night where my partner wants to do his own thing or go to bed early, i'll stay up and write and wake up a little later the next day.

in the beginning it was like i had to sit down and write, especially with aurora because the story was just itching to come out, but now things have started slowing down for me. what i'm focusing on now is consistency, and i get joy from writing so i'm scheduling time for myself to write. i'm also planning ahead and committing myself to publishing certain work on certain days, so that pushes me to get that content together.

the one thing i will say though.... if you start writing again, i know how deep the temptation is to share it right away, but i would recommend holding it for a bit. write a few things, and then go back and keep editing / feeling the work out. especially if you're going to attempt something multi-chaptered. the only way i've been able to keep up with aurora is by writing ahead. i have almost the rest of the story written, just a few chapters here and there not done or edited out, and that is been really comforting to me on days when i'm struggling to write or feel like i can't get ahead.

i hope this is helpful! feel free to drop me a message any time as well x

#answered anon #on writing

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aquaticsoul · 2 months

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@rpmemes-galore sent:

send BLUSHED for a scene from my muse's past in which they received a compliment that really got to them

Mun notes: 'Pikkuveli' means 'little brother' and 'laululintu' means 'songbird' (his nickname). Also, Sydän normally lives over on Kira's blog ( @shiroi---kumo ).

Glimpses of the Past || ACCEPTING

The applause is muffled by the closing of stage doors. A long sigh escapes the musician as he leans against one of the anteroom walls, eyes cast up towards the ceiling.

They're stinging. They're probably red. His tears have yet to fall, but it's only a matter of time.

This is what he gets. It serves him right to have his head spinning like this, to have his breaths catching against his sore larynx almost as badly as when he cracked those notes, to feel so positively horrible. Slowly, his arms wrap around his own body in a physical attempt to hold himself together.

He can already hear the scolding he's going to get.

It's a lot like the one he's already giving himself.

What the hell was that?

That was the performance a total amateur would give, not someone who claims to be a musician.

It's like he hadn't even practiced at all. It's like all those hours he spent refining every little bit of ink on that score hadn't ever happened.

What a fucking joke he's made himself into. He might as well be the clown of the year, a community laughing stock, a fucking court jester if there ever was one.

Not like he'd ever be able to set foot in the palace anyway given how badly he's gone and screwed up now.

The door swings open. He doesn't look up to see who's come in to join him. He doesn't want to meet anyone's gaze while they tell him how awful he's made himself look.

"Pikkuveli."

Even worse. Criticism from someone like his instructors or his parents is one thing.

Criticism from his twin is... absolutely not what he needs. He's halfway sure anything from her on what he should have done is going to break him like a stone through a windowpane.

"I know," he chokes out, trying and failing to swallow the lump in his throat. Blue eyes squeeze shut against tears he can't keep back.

"I don't think you do," she replies, closing the door behind her. Moments pass as he waits for whatever she'll tear into him with.

It doesn't come. Rather, hands exactly like his tug gently at his arms, guiding his body into a close hug before she speaks in a soft tone.

"It's okay, laululintu."

"But-"

"Shh... it is. I promise it is. Most people wouldn't even attempt that song, you know. And you sang it."

"I shouldn't mess up a performance, Sydän," he protests, shoving his face wherever it'll fit in her shoulder. Arms tighten around him.

"I think it went better than you realize. Nobody could have possibly recovered like you did. Like you always do. Even at practice, you're the best I've ever seen at musically getting yourself back up after you fall... because you're dedicated. You know music so well that a mistake to everyone else is just an artistic choice to you. That's what Vihr thought it was. And until I saw the look on your face, that's what I thought too."

"... An... artistic choice..?"

"Yeah. Like you meant to make it sound that way. You did really, really well out there, okay?"

Just like that, the stress in his shoulders falls away.

His ego, however...

His ego has been fed.

#[[ eep i forgot sydän's new relationship tag ]]#sing a round of love ; answered.#meme ; glimpses of the past #arc ; sing dear bird (misterica)#[[ thank you ruby !! i enjoyed writing this ]]#[[ anyone may reblog this one ]]

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heresathreebee · 3 years

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Kinktober day 5 UNIFORM

Colonel Rick Flag X Reader

Tag(s): +18 I MEAN IT | rough touching/mild restraint, semi-publix sex, oral (male receiving), handsfree orgasm, just a big ol' mess at the end there...

AN: I wrote this in under 30 minutes, please enjoy

It's his own damn fault walking around in...that.

"I have to wear it," he says when he catches you staring, "it's a formality."

"Sure, baby."

He misinterprets the frown on your face and your avoidance of being within 3 feet of him until later in the day when you most definitely are not doing that. In fact that evening it is almost impossible not to feel your fingers pluck nonexistent lint from his shoulders or avoid your decidedly heated staring during conversation.

It gets so bad during the dinner he has to pull you aside. "You need to stop."

It almost enrages him when you bite your lip playfully. "I like when you boss me around, we should do it more often."

His grip on your arm twitches. "Darlin? Behave. This is a funeral for a good man."

"This is a memorial for a General, I hardly remember you calling him a good man." You decide to be vague about the general's living deeds in case of voyeurs, however despite that prospect you dauntlessly tease:

"Too much energy in me to behave, sweetheart," you lean in against his distancing grip and whisper, "why don't you fuck it out of me? Then I can be a good girl. Your good girl…"

The first good girl has him whip his head around, face turning red and neck vein popping to see if anyone was around to hear that. The second one made him drag you closer. "This uniform is… delicate. No."

You pout. He had been ironing the hell out of it even after the dry cleaners and literally everyone you came across complimented him for it– any mystery stains would be immediately noticeable. This would apply to his perfectly parted blond hair.

But you do need him. You need him badly and right now. Your nipples are as hard as glass, they have to be visible despite your efforts in this dress. You really are buzzing with sexual energy and if you don't find a way to release it soon, you know you're going to slip up and embarrass the both of you.

So you need to make do. "Baby?"

Rick gives you an exasperated look that changes when he takes in your beggar's eyes. "I've got a frog in my throat, can you give it a look?"

He doesn't catch on at first. He's too busy taking in the way you're sagging into his hold and you poor thing you, rubbing your thighs together in desperation. He lets go of your arm to wrap both hands on your waist– god, you look like you're in pain.

Rick makes a decision (a red faced decision). "... sure baby, I'll… check it out."

That's how you ended up deep throating your fiance's cock at a private memorial in the bathroom. The suite was clean enough to eat off the floor and you were down on your knees with your mouth full. Rick held onto both of your hands– whether a loving gesture or to prevent you from wrinkling his pants, you weren't sure– and even your no stain lipstick was done for.

Your panties were thoroughly soaked. Not a single touch had been allowed by the nature of your wandering hands in a death grip, but you were right on the edge. Rick was seemingly unable to take a full breath, his attempted stifling of his own moans causing him delightful dizziness as you worked your way from tip to base, slobbering up his cock like you were born to do it.

Your eyes rolled back when he begged you by name. You had another half inch of his cock that you hadn't been able to get to yet, but hearing how desperate for release you made your sweet, sweet fiance?

Well, needless to say it made you come.

To prevent biting down on your beloved, you slipped his cock out of your mouth and accidentally released a gasping moan. The way his slippery cock brushed the outside of your cheek fucked him over, and he was coming to– right on you.

"Fuck!" Unable to release your hand fast enough, Rick pressed your head against his thigh and hopes it will be enough to prevent any more messes. He cannot prevent the repeated spurts of his cum from leaving his body but when the last would not make it over your shoulder, he let go of your other hand and cupped his cock head to try and catch it. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck…"

Then the only sounds in the bathroom were the faucet you had running as a disguise and your collective panting. You looked good like that– all fucked out and droopy eyed.

But not here and not now. He's got your arm bent awkwardly over your shoulder and he releases you. That white smear on your cheek was from the first rope (you hardly noticed). Hand still twisted in your hair he guides you to lean back so he can inspect the front of your dress.

Clean. You were shiny with perspiration, dark marks under your arms but fine. He could see the tile behind you had hnmm white splatters but–

"Oh– " he swallowed that last fuck.

The back of your dress…

You emerged from the bathroom in a better mood, better behavior. Only no one could take your fiances' jacket from you.

You two played it off as being cold.

#three bees writing #colonel rick flag #rick flag x reader #rick flag x female reader #smut #kinktober #black reader insert

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thotsome · 3 years

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Tell Them

Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Harry sees you getting a little too comfortable with his friends, he realises he doesn't want to keep you a secret anymore.

Warnings: Dom!Harry, Sub!Reader, nsfw, smut, penetrative sex, oral sex- female receiving, master kink, choking and size kink if you squint, angst start and fluff ending because :)

Word count: 1.4k

~♡︎~

As you sat on Seamus' lap and laughed at his stupid, sexist jokes, you spotted Harry Potter fuming about 15 feet away. You smiled.

Tonight was going to be fun.

"You're so funny, Seam" you said as you ran your hand up his arm. Seamus looked delighted

Harry looked furious.

His bad, you thought. If he doesn't want to tell people we're dating I'm going to act like we aren't.

Him and his stupid hero complex. He insisted that being the chosen one's girlfriend was going to make you a target. What he didn't take into account was that you could look after yourself just fine. You were a Gryffindor through and through.

And today you were wearing a Gryffindor red dress. It was working.

Poor Harry.

"Hey, um, you wanna come to my dorm to see my...uh... chocolate frog cards?" stammered Seamus.

Oops. You hadn't foreseen this. He obviously wanted to show you more than his cards.

But it would make Harry jealous. And if Seamus tried anything you'd just shoot him down.

"Sure", you said, getting off his lap and taking his hand, but not before you saw Harry glaring at you two.

As you reached the boys' dorm and sat on Seamus' bed, he began frantically hunting for his "prized collection". He was such a liar. You almost didn't feel bad for leading him on.

"I'm sure they were here, Weasley must've nicked 'em-" he said

You gave him a reassuring smile that said take all the time you need.

He sighed and went back to "searching".

Just as you were starting to regret coming upstairs, the door was flung open.

And there stood Harry.

"Get out", he said to Seamus, in a dangerously low voice. Seamus looked over his shoulder at you and left the room.

"Well?" You asked.

"I've changed my mind" and then he stode over the room and his mouth was on yours.

He tasted like butterbeer and wind. Like Harry.

You could never get enough of him.

His hands roamed all over your dress. You wanted them below the annoying material. But you couldn't let Harry get away with this so quickly. You pulled away.

"Changed your mind about what?" You asked.

"About telling everyone"

"Why?"

"Y/n" he breathed. His hands pressed your waist gently.

"Tell me, Harry."

He didn't answer. Instead he kissed your neck and snaked his way behind you. You couldn't bring yourself to think rationally when he was nibbling at your soft spot like this. Before you could turn around he picked you up from the back and set you on the bed on your knees while he positioned himself right behind you.

You could feel his hard on pressing against your ass. You moaned. Harry took that as an invitation and unzipped your ridiculously tiny dress and threw it aside.

He raised his eyebrows once he saw what you were wearing underneath it. See-through red panties and a push up bra.

As he ran his fingers lightly over your body, you shivered.

"You little slut," Harry said "Who's your master?" You didn't reply. You couldn't let Harry get the better of you. You pursed your lips.

"Is this how it's gonna be?" Harry asked "Y/n? You're not going to tell me who your master is?"

You shook your head. Not today.

Harry tutted and chuckled. You were such a Gryffindor. He bit your shoulder lightly as he unhooked your bra. You could feel his hunger even from behind you. He took your breasts in his hand and squeezed them.

You swallowed, trying not to moan.

Harry cupped your breasts and played with them, making them bounce and pinching your nipples lightly. You couldn't help it. You whimpered. You wanted him inside you so badly you could feel your walls clenching.

Harry growled at hearing the sound and ripped your panties off you. He wrapped his fingers around your neck lightly and pushed you face- first onto the bed, your ass in the air, your back arched, as he stood at the edge of it.

"Mm, so wet already" Harry said "you're such a good whore, y/n, tell me who your master is and I'll give you what you want."

And you did want. You wanted it so bad.

But all this was to teach him a lesson. You held your ground.

"All right then, if this is how you want to act"

Harry split your thighs with his hands and touched his lips to your now slick opening and you moaned. Very loud. It was so damn good. You pushed your ass onto Harry's face to create the friction you so desperately needed. Harry complied, tracing circles around your clit with his tongue and eating you out. You couldn't stand it. You gripped the sheets with your fingers tightly enough to tear them.

As Harry's tongue slipped inside you, an almost primitive sound left your mouth. . You could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, so close to your release. You were going to cum.

Before that could happen, Harry removed his mouth. You let out a frustrated whimper. Damn this. You were going to get what you wanted.

"Harry," you said in an innocent tone, your voice muffled by the sheets, "you're my master" You prayed to Merlin it would work.

And it did. Harry groaned at hearing those words finally come out of your mouth. He flipped you over and pinned your wrists to the bed as you opened your legs wide for him, your feet on the ledge and your knees in the air.

He removed his pants and underwear with his free hand and allowed you to admire him freely. He was really so gorgeous. You inhaled when his member sprang up, now free. He was huge. You'd done this with him before, but you always wondered how you could fit all that inside you. You weren't complaining though.

Harry smiled at you before lining himself up at your entrance. That smile still made your stomach flip.

As he penetrated you, you screamed and arched your back. It was so amazing every. single. time.

Harry went slow first, attempting not to hurt you. But you needed him to go faster and deeper. "Harder, master" you managed to speak between moans and gasps.

Harry released your wrists and hooked his thumb into your mouth. You sucked at it greatfully. He used his other hand to knead your breasts and you couldn't have been more euphoric.

But then Harry hit your g-spot, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head. As he continued pounding you into the bed, you moaned and panted and gasped. This man owned you. You'd let him do anything to you. He took his now wet thumb out of your mouth and stimulated your clit. You closed your eyes. You could pass out of the pleasure.

"Open your eyes y/n", Harry said, "I want to watch you fall apart"

Your eyes fluttered open and you looked into his

Harry gave a particularly deep thrust and you could see stars as you moaned his name. After a few more of the same, your walls squeezed Harry's cock as you came over it.

"Oh fuck, y/n you're so beautiful" Harry continued thrusting into you and you felt his member expand. He fucked you through your aftershocks and made your orgasm last longer.

A few moments later you could feel his hot cum fill you up.

Heaven.

As you both lay panting on the bed, Harry turned your face upto his and said "You know why I changed my mind y/n?" You looked at him expectantly as he stroked your hair.

"Because I can't let anyone else do that to you. I love you, y/n."

"I love you too, Harry."

"Reckon everyone already knows that by the way you were screaming my name. I didn't use any silencing charms, you know."

As you mock punched him, you knew that it didn't matter if everyone heard you. You were together, and from how much you loved each other, you would be for a while.

665 notes · View notes

hoshiwhxre · 3 years

Text

Such a Good Little Girl. (kjk)

Kim Junkyu ; Such a Good Little Girl

{ requested ; "when,,, can you like uhhhhhh maybe write uhhh junkyu + corruption kink + size kink pleaseeeeeee" }

description: Junkyu wants nothing more than to corrupt the little sister of his best friend. He dreams about making you his personal whore, fucking you until you're shaking mess. He knows you want him too, he knows what he does to you, and eventually, he finds himself unable to resist you any longer.

typ: dom!junkyu x fem!reader

rating: NSFW

warnings: corruption!kink , size!kink , overst!mulation , male!receiving, fem!receiving , degradat!on , power!play , slight exh!bitionism , unprotected!sex , oral!sex just lots and lots of smut l o l

word count: 4.4k

He’d never forget the first day he met you. That pastel pink dress grazing your mid thigh, those big round eyes gazing up at him, a sweet smile that always followed the lightest giggle. He remembered your stare following across the room, blushing everytime he satisfied your curiosities with a smirk or a sparkle. With each fluster under his dark eyes, a surge of adrenaline shot through his heart. God, how he'd do anything to corrupt that pretty little body of yours. He knew he could so easily command you, and he shivered at the thought of towering over you while you begged him to just fuck you.

He took the obvious power he had over you for advantage, revelling in your stammered reaction to his hand brushing your waist, or his breath tickling the back of your neck as his body pressed intimately against you.

Every little thing he did made you feel unusually hot, your thighs constantly pressed tight to keep your wet core from dripping down your skin. He caused your stomach to knot, your heart pounding everytime he held your gaze. You felt dizzy and weak whenever he was around.

But his silent teasing, no matter how much it dominated your entire body, lead to nothing. You were his best friend's little sister, and he knew that the things he was desperate to do to you were off the cards.

Well, they were until that day.

"Move up," Jihoon demanded, striding towards the sofa, "we want to watch the game."

He was approaching too quickly for you too argue, and you hurriedly scooched along the leather, dragging your notes to the side and sighing impatiently.

"Junkyu's here too, so make room," Jihoon waved his hand, indicating for you to either go upstairs or allow for more space.

The mention of your brother's friend's name made you tense, your heart stopping, filling you with a swarm of dizzying butterflies. Your eyes rose, meeting his familiar soft features as they stepped into the living room. You obediently moved up, gaze attempting to remain on your textbook as Junkyu slowly approached. Feeling him fall down between you and Jihoon, your breath caught, trying to act as though his presence wasn't heating your body up to unimaginable temperatures. His legs spread a little, his thigh brushing intimately against yours, and your eyes rolled back beneath your lids. His figure was still so much taller than you, even while sitting down, and you stole a glance at his large hands resting loosely between his legs. Glancing up, Junkyu's lips twitched, noticing your eyes dart hurriedly back to your book. His tongue passed over his lip as his orbs grazed over the big hoodie drowning your body, your small fingers playing absent mindedly with glossy pages.

"Who's playing?" Junkyu drawled.

You shivered, his deep voice sending shocks to your tightening core.

"We're playing against France," Jihoon replied, flicking through the channels.

With a nod, Junkyu dragged his hand towards his knee, his veins flexing beneath his smooth skin, drawing your breathless attention immediately down. You cursed yourself inwardly for how easily he distracted you, insisting you should leave, that you couldn't take anymore of the things he made you feel.

"They're doing so badly," Jihoon groaned, loudly, leaning forward to place a more intense concentration on the game.

As he did, Junkyu's hand slipped down, grazing over your bare skin as his touch danced across your leg. Your lips fell open, stifling a gasp as his palm flattened firmly against your thigh, his thumb beginning to rub light circles into your goosebumped skin. Your eyes shot up, making sure Jihoon couldn't see, before darting towards Junkyu's head turned lazily towards the screen. Your breath was growing heavy, as his palm began gliding further up, pushing beneath your hoddies thick material.

"If he'd just passed it to him, they could have made that goal," Junkyu drawled.

His fingers pushed up, grazing over your panties, and your breath hitched, watching his lips curl into a smirk - knowing he could feel your arousal beginning to seep through the thin material. He pressed in lightly, his touch hovering over your clothed clit, and ever so slightly your hips lifted up, struggling to control your body from magnetising to his grip. You could see stars, your judgement completely overwhelmed with arousal - and feeling him begin to retract, your hand shot down, desperately holding him in place. Junkyu's eyebow cocked, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, feeling your small fingers dig into his large hand. Scoffing, his orbs shone with a playful glisten, as he guided your panties to the side. His stare floated over your brother, making sure he wouldn't see as Junkyu dragged two warm digits between your folds. Your teeth sank into your lip, a sharp pleasure controlling your chest as he ran a teasing circle over your pleading clit. Feeling you so wet for him made him shiver with excitement. Just as he applied pressure to the sensitive skin, your thighs clenched around his wrist, not used to the raw sensation now consuming your core. A satisfied grin licking at his mouth, Junkyu continued to play lightly with your clit, circular motions accompanied by slight squeezes and soft scratches. The new pleasure was fast climbing through stomach, hitting your chest with a breathy moan you immediately muffled with a cough.

"If you're ill you can go upstairs," Jihoon called, attention thankfully still fixed on the screen.

"I'm fine," you croaked, your weak voice bringing a smug delight to Junkyu's spine. He could feel you twitching, writhing beside him, your pleasure uncontrollable as he allowed his roughening movements to fasten on your throbbing clit. Your fingers collapsed against his hand, your teeth pulling at your lip in sheer desperation. A strange sensation was beginning to engulf you, shooting through your body, flying to your brain, getting higher, and higher, and suddenly...

No.

Junkyu's hand dragged from between your tensed thighs, leaving you with an unfair emptiness to override the previous pleasure. Lazily, he brushed his fingers through his hair as if nothing had happened, leaving your stilled body breathless beside him. You didn't dare look, afraid you'd explode if Junkyu met your gaze with those deeply intense eyes. Swallowing to rejuvenate your dry mouth, your trembling arms hauled yourself up, forcing a stammered salutation before rushing hurriedly from the room.

"What's her issue?" Jihoon frowned, "was she okay?"

Shrugging, Junkyu's stare danced over the empty doorway, his tongue pressing into his teeth in a desperate attempt to control the adrenaline surging through his heart.

"I think so," he murmured, "she seemed pretty happy."

You, meanwhile, were holding shakily onto the kitchen's marble counters, your head so low it was nearly breaking from it's neck. Your chest heaved, your heart pounding against it like a prisoner. Every technique in the book had been tried to calm yourself down, but fuck, Junkyu's fingers were burnt into your memory, the tingles replaying through your core while your lids encased his smirk in your eyes.

The sound of your front door slamming shut shocked you from your daze, and you released a wheezy breath of relief. He'd gone. You no longer had to bear the thought of him sitting in the other room, completely unattainable for the desires you found yourself desperate for. Almost as soon as Junkyu had left your mind, he was back again, thickening the arousal that was once more pooling between your legs. As if controlled by magic, your hand was lowering, body pressed against the kitchen counter as you slipped beneath your hoodie, eyes misting as soon as you felt your wet drip from your panties. You wanted to touch yourself, to cum right here, to release yourself from this despair he'd left you in.

But your hand immediately retracted, remembering where you were and what you were about to do. You couldn't.

"It's okay, just do it, imagine your fingers are mine, princess." That low drawl sent your core into fiery mania, and you immediately spun around, shaky gaze falling on Junkyu's familiar smirk leaning against the kitchen doorway. You choked on your words, your breath scratching your throat.

"What's up, y/n? Cat's got your tongue?" slowly, he began to approach, dark eyes watching you intently, "what have I done to you, hm? Touching yourself right here, I've really got you that desperate?"

Your heavy breath met his chest as his palms pressed into the kitchen side, trapping you in. He bowed down, soft lips hovering over yours as he forced you against the cold metal of drawer's handles.

"Junkyu," you whispered.

"That's my name," he tilted his head, watching you melt before him, "say it again if you want. In fact, why don't you scream it?"

You whimpered, and Junkyu laughed, reaching up to brush your hair behind one ear. His jaw cocked towards yours, his eyes trained on the lower half of your face, and you suddenly nodded, palms shooting up to hook behind his neck. He immediately satisfied your desire, moulding his mouth against yours while his hands firmly snatched up your waist. Feeling Junkyu's tongue slip between your lips, you met him with a soft moan, allowing him to guide you slowly from the counter. His tall body dominated you easily, silently ordering you to move with it, his heavy palms keeping you tight to his chest.

"B-But Jihoon..." you mumbled.

"He's gone to pick Jaehyuk up," Junkyu purred, beginning to guide you towards the staircase, "let's hope he's away long enough to finish what I started earlier."

You whined in agreement as he pushed his mouth once more to yours, deepening the kiss as you both staggered to the second floor. Eyes flickering around, Junkyu targeted your room immediately, roughly shoving you over the threshold and kicking the door shut behind him. He paused for a moment, taking in your awating body stood before him. He'd waited so long to see you submissive for him, completely overcome with lust, waiting for him to just fuck you.

"You're always such a good little girl, aren't you?" Junkyu breathed, eyes darkening as he stepped towards you, his palm reaching out to push your hoodie into the curves of your body. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over the skin just below your ear, the tip of his tongue drawing slow, delicate circles. You moaned quietly, head tilting to the side as his teeth pricked you with a small bite. Mouth raising to your ear, his warm breath forcing them to twitch with anticipation, he chuckled.

"I'm going to make you my own dirty fucking whore."

You weakened against him, legs threatening to give way, lust consuming your every limb. Thoughts and desires you'd never felt in your entire life were spilling from your brain, yearning for Junkyu to abuse his power over you.

"Please," you whimpered, "I-I'll do anything for you..."

"You want me that bad, huh?" Junkyu smirked, his fingers brushing through your hair before abruptly snatching it back, "you won't even remember what innocence felt like when I'm finished with you."

Your moans hitched, as his hand guided your firmly to your knees.

"Yes sir..."

Through hooded lids, you breathlessly watched him unbuckle and unzip his jeans, before holding out one steady palm. Your fingers took his obediently, a soft gasp sounding between your lips while he slowly slid your hand from the toned muscles of his lower stomach, to beneath the black material of his boxers. Grazing his hard shaft with an eager touch, you met Junkyu's sparkling eyes, and his lips curled into a satisfied grin as you almost immediately freed his cock from the cloth.

"Aren't you an eager little slut? Hm? Can't you wait to have my cock in your mouth? Open up for me, baby."

Your lips parted, gazing up with big eyes as he took a firm hold of his stiff cock, pressing it against your flattened tongue with a hiss. One palm rested against the back of your head, fingers lightly massaging your scalp, as his hips drove slowly forward, pushing his cock deep between your cheeks. Hollowing immediately, your tongue wrapped around it’s shaft, tracing the veins as it approached the back of your throat. Forcing your head down, he encouraged you to take every inch, a low groan releasing as you gagged, setting the pace to exactly how he liked. Your nails dug into your thighs, lids screwing shut as his girth locked your jaw open wide. Every few moments, Junkyu would force your head to the base, holding you down to watch the strings of spit roll down your chin as you choked. Your eyes watered with his growingly faster thrusts, hips now bucking against your mouth as he fucked your face. With each thrust, Junkyu grunted a soft “fuck”, his fingers wrapped in your locks, his head rolling onto his shoulder with satisfied smirk. Your lids were drooping, eyes rolling back, your lips reddening from the friction of his cock passing back and forth, back and forth. By the second he seemed to enlarge against your tongue, his cock beginning to twitch uncontrollably, and yet he didn’t weaken once, his grip remaining firm, his hips remaining rhythmic. As your ears filled with his breathy groan, your head was abruptly yanked back, allowing you to suck in a shaky breath of air. Chest heaving, Junkyu gazed down through hooded eyes at the spit staining your chin, at the mascara beginning to collect beneath your lashes, and he reached down to graze his thumb over your trembling lower lip.

“What would your brother say if he knew how much of a desperate whore you are for me?” he said gruffly, sharply pinching your chin between thumb and forefinger, “stand up.”

Legs shaky, you stumbled to your feet, remaining still as Junkyu strode slowly around your pathetic figure. His eyes raked your every detail, before he lowered down on the edge of your mattress, lazily leaning back against his palms.

“Take off your clothes,” he commanded.

Your fingers immediately snatched down, curling beneath the hem of your hoodie to fumble it over your head, revealing a lacy bra and panties for Junkyu’s stare to consume. Throat dry, he swallowed, a rush of dizzying arousal completely knocking him off guard, and his hand lowered to find his hard cock brushing against his lower abdomen. Stroking it slowly, he watched as you removed each item of lingerie, your body small and bare for him to easily ruin.

“What’s up, baby?” Junkyu teased, meeting your pleading, needy eyes as they held the sight of his cock leaking with pre cum, “you want me to fuck you? Do you? Why don’t you get on your knees and beg me.”

Once more, you fell to the floor, fingers sinking into the carpet as you steadily crawled towards his spread thighs, yearning to touch him again.

“Please,” you whimpered, “fuck me, please.”

“Oh, that’s not good enough,” Junkyu purred, tilting his head, “try harder, angel.”

“Junkyu please,” your voice cracked, “I need you so badly, I want you inside of me I...”

Patting his thigh, Junkyu nodded once, eyes sparkling as he spoke the demand.

“Come for a test ride,” he murmured.

You climbed up, his legs shifting slightly to provide you with a more comfortable seat on his lap. His palms took hold of your waist, raising your torso to hover you momentarily of his erect cock. Meeting your eyes, one hand guided the tip deep beneath the dripping folds of your pussy, allowing your arousal to wrap eagerly around his shaft. Easily, he pressed your body a few inches down, and your fingers shot out to dig deep into your shoulders, gasping sharply.

“W-Wait,” you stammered, “it hurts, i-it’s too big...”

Eyes flickering with a surge of pleasure, Junkyu nodded.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.

Your head immediately shook, tilting your hips a little to allow a few more inches in, the sting of his cock stretching your pussy forcing you to still.

“I’m a virgin,” your voice was hushed, “is that...is that okay?”

“I know,” Junkyu’s warm breath tickled your lips, “are you sure you want to carry on?”

“Yes...a-ah...” your voice caught as you winced, Junkyu encouraging you to take the remainder of his length, “J-Junkyu...”

Your sweet voice singing his name filled his ears, overcome with lust as you struggled to contain his girth. He travelled his touch over the curves of your body, moulding your breaths in his fingers before returning to your stiff, anxious hips.

“See how it feels, baby,” Junkyu breathed, beginning to securely lift your hips, watching your features contort as his cock slid once more deep into your pussy. Continuing the pace, he allowed you to adjust, before you began to relax into him, hips winding in coordination to his guidance.

“Hm, you like that? Is my cock stretching your tight little pussy?” Junkyu’s lips misted over yours, grunting as you began to wind your hips needily against his cock, using his shoudlers to steady your balance and fuel your careful bounces. Your body curled into his chest, your breath heavy against his skin, as you grew more evidently desperate. The pleasurable pain of his cock hitting your guts was working up a thicker arousal deep within your core, and suddenly you were riding him faster, allowing him to drive deeper, your chest twisting with a gentle whine.

“Riding my cock like the dirty slut that you are,” Junkyu grunted, readily tugging his shirt over his head, “you desperate fucking whore.”

And suddenly his strong arms were forcing you to stop, hooking beneath your thighs and hauling you up as he rose to his feet, causing a fragile whimper to leave your lips. Your heart palpitated at the new found power that was filling his gaze, sinful flashes decorating his brown orbs. His cock stilled inside of you, he paced a few steps to slam you hard against the nearest bedroom wall, a shock of pain dancing down your spine. Your arms wrapped magnetically around his neck, and without a moments rest Junkyu drove is hips up into your pussy, immediately setting a vigorous pace that left you unable to make a coherant sound. His cock snapped fast and deep inside of you, reaching between your guts, grazing your G-spot. Your heavy breath buried in his neck, whining against his warm skin as Junkyu’s gritted teeth allowed him to concentrate on keeping the rhythm of his hips pounding into your pussy. With each thrust, he brushed your clit now throbbing between your folds, sending new sensations rushing through your tensed up veins.

“What’s my name?” Junkyu growled in your twitching ear, “let me hear you say my fucking name.”

His name dripped from your lips like candy, as your nails dug into the back of his neck, and his teeth pricked at the sensitive skin just below your ear. You could feel his cock beginning to twitch against your walls, throbbing harder and harder the faster his hips reduced the space between your bodies. His breath hitched, and he moulded his lips messily against yours, silencing the groans that threatened to escape. His rhythm faltered, momentum failing him as his chest contorted with the prospect of orgasm. Your moans croaked and cried against his mouth, your eyes rolling behind your lids, as he aggressively chased his high. His fingers tightened around your thighs, your body banging against the wall, and his teeth pulled at your tongue, just as he purred a groaned curse. Tensing, he hissed in pleasure, as he came buried deep within your walls. Soon, his hips gradually slowed to deep, steady thrusts, and your head fell against his shoulder, panting, as his cum dripped down the inside of your thighs. For a moment, his lips played breathlessly with your shouder, giving him the time to regain a little more energy, recovering from the intense orgasm. Allowing you back to the floor, Junkyu brushed your hair from your red cheeks, a smirk drawing across his features.

“I’m not done with you yet, babygirl,” he whispered heavily, snatching up your waist, chuckling as you weakly allowed him to control your limbs like putty, spinning you around and shoving you down first first to the mattress. Your fingers curled into the sheets, as you felt him kneel behind you, the large surface of his palms attaching to your ass. A sharp gasp stammered against the mattress as he landed a hard smack against one cheek, followed by a 2nd, a 3rd, a 4th, a stinging pain engulfing the entire area.

“Tsk, you’re nothing but a needy little slut, God you just gave into me so easily didn’t you, hm?” a 5th slap shocked your body, and you stifiled a melodic moan, “oh, you like that? You like being punished like the nasty whore you are?”

Junkyu’s deep voice was followed by his hands flipping you carelessly over, meeting your weak eyes with a deep, steady stare. Your hands fluttered down your stomach, pleadingly beginning to touch your sensitive pussy, crying for him. His eyebrow immediately cocked, snatching up your wrists with a low tut and bringing them high above your head.

“Bad girl,” he sucked in a breath, “who gave you permission to touch yourself? If you’re not careful, I might not let you cum.”

Your back arched, his fingers trailing deep inside your pussy, wrapping his digits in the remainder of his thick cum. Pulling them up your body, he hovered them over your lips, groaning as you obediently curled your tongue hungrily around them, lapping up his cum. As you licked the remainder from his finger tips, your small hand curling into his palm, allowing his digits to slip deeper into your mouth, Junkyu began to pepper open mouthed kisses down your cool stomach, tracing his lips further and further down your body. With his free hand, he caressed your twitching inner thigh, allowing his tongue and teeth to play teasingly with it’s skin, glancing up to greedily watch you suck at his fingers. His mouth was now dangerously approaching your pussy, and your hips shifted slightly, begging for him to please you properly. Your eagerness made him shiver with joy, and he detached his fingers from your mouth, lowering them to spread the folds of your pussy wide. He met your low gaze, smirking as his tongue slowly slipped between your slit, trailing up the wet mess of your pussy to begin pulsating light, irregular shapes over your throbbing clit. Your hands snatching into the bed sheets, you moaned a loud, desperate whine. Fuck it felt too good. All you could think about was him, him and only him. His lips now wrapping around your clit, two digits joining your overwhelming pleasure as they pushed deep inside your pussy, you cried out his name, completely giving in to his flickering tongue. Your pussy fluttered against his lips, hips seizing against his mouth to catch your high that you so crazily craved. Your stomach felt like it was on fire, your thighs clenching, and your chest shot up in a sharp breathed choke. His tongue played mercilessly with your clit, shooting an acute, cutting pleasure up your core. Your hands stumbled to find his hair in your shaking shivers, following the bobs of his head as he began to messily lap at your dripping cunt. You were beginning to shudder with orgasm, as your core snatched up a sudden knot, the orgasm expanding in your stomach getting bigger, bigger, your head getting lighter, lighter. Your sight filled with stars, your lips slightly parted, as your hips suddenly twitched, a warmth beginning to spread through your pussy, reaching your core like a tsunami. Your muscles tensed, contracting abruptly, and your voice caught in your throat, before the product of an intense orgasm rushed out in a loud, breathy moan. You pulled at Junkyu’s hair, his tongue twirling your clit, riding out your high until the pain of overstimulation took over your limbs. Feeling you twitch and shudder beside his head, he gazed up, staring deep into your weak, teary eyes, and his smirk engulfed your clit. You writhed against the mattress, back arching further to control the sensations that were mechanically sending your muscles into overwhelmed mania.

“J-Junkyu, please, I can’t take anymore,” you whined, breath wheezy.

He held your eyes, pushing further into your cunt, his lips and tongue providing your clit with intense attention. You were already beginning to feel the same crashing of orgasm, your moans turning into “yes, yes, yes, o-oh, Junkyu”, that provided his pride an immense, satisfying ego boost. Once more, knots were building like lego inside your core, hurriedly tensing to meet your orgasm with the same pleasurable friction as before. Soon, your head filled with mist, unable to think straight as you shook with the 2nd stinging orgasm. Fuck. Heat pooled your core, meeting the knots with a powerful contraction, as your muscles snatched up the insane pleasure now sending endorphins rushing through your veins. You mewled in agreement, as the rush of orgasm shot into core, Junkyu’s tongue holding you out to the end of your body shaking high.

As you collapsed against the mattress, Junkyu detached his lips from your stunned clit, rising to brush his hands softly up your chest. He smiled slightly, admiring your frail, fucked out figure lying beneath him, and slowly he pressed a delicate kiss to your feeble lips.

“You did so well,” he mumbled.

Your limp arms snaked around his neck, as he lowered to keep your body safe with his broad chest. He could feel your wheezy panting against his cheek, and he offered you sweet, reassuring kisses along your shoulder, giving you a few moments to regain yourself. As soon as your breathing began to normalise, he rolled onto his back, tugging you into a loose, intimate embrace. You buried your face in his chest, using his smooth skin to relax you, and your fingers began to trace gentle circles over the muscles of his lower stomach.

“Did you like it?” Junkyu asked, quietly, playing lightly with your hair.

Glancing up, your small smile between a pair of flushed cheeks glistened in his fond gaze.

“I liked it a lot,” you giggled, your tired voice making his brow furrow in concern.

“Was I too rough?” Junkyu murmured, “did I hurt you?”

Pulling your body a little further up, you fluttered a kiss on his cheek, features blissful as you allowed your head to cuddle into his neck.

“It was perfect.”

#junkyu smut #treasure smut #treasure junkyu #yg silver boys smut #kim junkyu smut #junkyu #kim junkyu #treasure

490 notes · View notes

escapist-dreams · 3 years

Text

Fix it ~ Invincible Fanfiction

Summary: Rex's hand gets damaged in a fight. No one is willing to help him, so he helps himself.

Warnings: spoilers for both the Invincible animated show(episode 7) and comics(issue #40) concerning Rex-Splode, injuries(nothing nearly as graphic as the source material)

Word Count: 2.3k

This is my first Invincible fanfic, and one of the first fics I've written in awhile! Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy! Feel free to tell me what you think about it! Constructive criticism would be appreciated :D

"We meet yet again, Invincible!" D.A. Sinclair shouted with his usual dramatic flair. He had escaped from the government facility a couple months ago and holed up in a sewer, making more of his fucked up 'reanimen' who the new Guardians of the Globe were now fighting.

His army of cyborgs were unleashed onto the fleeing crowd, more destructive than self destructive this time. Sinclair must've taken notes from his previous failures.

While they targeted the heroes, civilians were caught in the crossfire left and right. Dupli-Kate evacuated the remaining civilians while Shrinking-Rae fought off any cyborgs coming near. The rest of the team tried to disarm the cyborgs without killing them, which Mark made them agree to do before the fight.

Invincible went through one after the other, knocking out the cyborgs, one could tell he was holding back. Monster Girl knocked out a good chunk of them, but accidentally killed one or two with the strength of her monster form. One of them slammed her against a building, sending a big crack up the wall, no doubt affecting civilians in the upper floors. Shrinking-Rae rushed to save those in the building affected by the crack, while Monster Girl slumped against the wall, down for the count.

Rex-Splode made it past the wall of reanimen defending Sinclair and shot a projectile at his torso. He stumbled as the magnet hit his side and exploded, only grazing him but doing damage all the same. He cupped a hand around the wound, and when he regained his composure, looked directly at Rex.

"You'll pay for that!" With a movement of his hand, D. A. Sinclair ordered the cyborg to target Rex-Splode.

"Sure I will, asshole!" Rex smirked and raised his hand again, aiming for Sinclair's head. The cyborg intervened, lunging towards Rex, who dodged and backed away. He couldn't kill the guy, but he really didn't want to get beat to a bloody pulp today. He made a split second decision to shoot him in the legs to slow him down. He did so, but all he received for his efforts was the sound of a small metal impact. He'd missed the human parts, the projectile only slightly slowed the cyborg.

Just as he was about to shoot again, the cyborg grabbed his hand, crushing flesh and metal alike. Rex doubled over as a wave of pain hit him like a brick. He tried to push past it after a few moments, looking up just in time to see Robot come up behind the reaniman, knocking him out with a punch. Invincible grabbed a piece of metal from a street sign that had been crushed in the wreckage of the battle and bent it tightly around Sinclair, effectively trapping him. And since the cyborgs were all either knocked out or no longer under his control, the battle was over.

"You couldnt've done that earlier?" Rex complained as Mark tied up Sinclair, wincing in pain. Several members of the team gave him a familiar look of annoyance.

"Maybe if you weren't too busy cowering we would've finished this sooner." Samson stated.

"I wasn't--!" Rex began, but he doubled over again before he could finish, another wave of pain hitting him.

The rest of the team had sustained some injuries as well, but they were able to shake it off for the most part by the time they arrived back at the guardians' base.

"Hey Robot-" Rex tried to catch him before they fully returned to the group.

"It's Rudy."

"Right. Rudy, can you uh.." he pointed to his busted up hand, the blood dried onto the metal. Rudy made a wincing sound at the sight, then looked to their friends, who were in a group celebrating the won battle.

"Hm.. That's going to take a bit to fix, if you can wait I'll fix it in a couple minutes." he decided. Rex opened his mouth to protest, but closed it and nodded in agreement. The two rejoined the group.

They spent a few minutes having conversations in small groups, some about the fight, and some about completely different things. After about half an hour passed, Mark got up from his seat, explaining that he needed to get back home, as he had some homework to finish up. Slowly the group dissolved, rejoining their everyday lives. Rex ran to catch Rudy before he and Amanda left.

"Hey Rudy, can you fix this thing before you go? If you couldn't tell, it *kinda* hurts." Rex gestured to his hand, pulling the glove up a bit to show the broken metal and bloody skin.

"Can it wait, Rex? Me and Amanda are getting lunch." he paused, conflicted, "you can join if you want." he offered politely, but judging by the looks on his and Amanda's face, it wasn't an invitation.

"I'll pass." Rex sighed, unsure if he was more angry or sad about it at this point. Rudy shrugged as if to say "your loss", and he and Amanda left the base. Rex left as well a few moments later, Kate and Rae's conversation fading behind him as he made his way to his apartment.

Rex tried to ignore it, he really did. But god, it hurt. He must've been in shock before, but now that he had time to really think about and feel the injury, the pain set in. The metal of his hand had torn into his flesh and he was afraid to move it for fear of further lodging it into his arm. After awhile of trying to ignore the injury, Rex decided he couldn't take it anymore. If no one would help him, he would help himself.

Rex knew a thing or two about robotics since he got his powers from the devices in his wrists, and had been taught a bit at the facility for use in battlefield situations. So he got some spare tools he used for small repairs on his arms and got to work fixing his hand. It took just about all night, but by the end he was fairly confident that he'd at least helped the situation.

He must've done something right because next time the guardians fought a villain, he was able to shoot the projectiles from his hand. No need to ask Rudy for help. And the next time it was damaged, and he fixed it himself again. This time his aim was slightly off. He hit several walls, the ground, and nearly a civilian before his desired target, but it was fine, right? He hit the guy eventually, he missed the civilian, and it still worked decently well.

He continued to repair it himself, using the knowledge from his previous mishaps to improve upon it. It continued to have slight malfunctions, but it worked.

Until it didn't.

He aimed, and shot, but the small explosive wouldn't budge. It wouldn't leave his hand, something blocked it. The BB lit up as he tried to shoot, but it exploded in his hand.

"Fuck!" Rex yelled, throwing a magnet from his belt with his offhand and dodging out of the way of an oncoming attack.

The team made quick work of the enemy, but not before they got a few good hits in on Dupli-Kate and Monster Girl as well. Amanda was slumped against a wall while Kate Prime nursed an injury on her side.

Back at the base, Rudy was busy being at Amanda's side. She had a minor concussion, but overall she was alright. The excessive blood from a cut on her head made the injury look more serious than it was. They were thankful that she was alright, minus a bit of blood loss and a head injury.

Rex wanted to celebrate her quick recovery longer than he did, but hesitantly left after drinks were had and the party died down a bit. He knew he would have to work on his hand for awhile to get it in working order and get any sleep that night.

It was already much later in the day by the time he arrived at his apartment. Repairs went well for the most part. He had passed out before realigning the metal, but quickly aligned it before heading to the base that morning, presumably deeming it functional, which was an achievement in Rex's opinion considering how badly it was broken and lack of materials. He got hardly any sleep, but he wasn't exactly the type to usually get a full eight hours every night anyways.

The next day after training, Rudy approached Rex unexpectedly.

"Hey Rex, I noticed your hand got busted up pretty badly yesterday. Need me to fix it?" Rudy offered, glancing at Rex's barely-together hand with a hint of what might be worry. Rex scoffed.

"Oh no it's fine," he said, half proud of his work and half bitter at Rudy. "I figured it out."

Rudy gave him a curious look, pausing for a moment before repeating, "You 'figured it out'?"

Rex nodded, taking off his glove and showing off his hand, which he'd barely been able to peice back together the night before. "I figured it out."

He'd had to patch up the hand with spare metal parts and slightly off-size bolts, but it wasn't too bad of a job. From a certain angle, it'd look fine even. A bit busted up, used for sure, but functional. Now, from the angle of someone with as much knowledge in robotics as Rudy had, the sight was returned after a long pause with a vaguely annoyed, "this is going to take awhile."

"What're you two doing?" Amanda asked, walking into the workroom with a half empty carton of disguised booze.

"Rex tried to fix his hand. By himself." Rudy explained condescendingly after a pause that made it obvious he was focused on his work. Rex scoffed at the answer.

"I think I did a great job, thank you very much." And besides being proud of his attempt at fixing it, the way he phrased it made Rex sound like an idiot, as if he hadn't asked for help several times before deciding to fix the problem himself.

"You put the metal covering back in place just off enough to block the projectile, the bolts are all the wrong size, and part of it is still jabbing into your arm. This isn't even the right kind of.." he trailed off, clicking a new bolt in place before mumbling, "how did you even fight like this-?!"

"Well it's not like you bothered to help me when I asked.." Rex answered with the tone of an upset child.

"You didn't say how bad it was."

"I showed you! You saw it!" Rex nearly shouted, frustration and anger bubbling up in his chest and out his mouth.

"I would have fixed this easily if you'd asked sooner."

"I did ask sooner!"

"You could've asked when I wasn't busy." Rudy spoke nearly absent-mindedly, focusing intently on prying part of the metal out of damaged tissue that tried to heal around it.

Rex hissed in pain before responding, "When were you not busy? I asked you like three times, you told me to wait!"

"I just told you, I was busy. Why didn't you go to Cecil for this?"

"Oh yeah, like I'm asking some creepy ass guy from the government to fix my hand- No fucking way!" Rex tried to ignore the hint of fear in his chest at the idea of some shady government operative poking and prodding at him in a blindingly white room.

"You'd rather bother me than ask someone whose job it is to fix things for help?"

"I'd rather ask my friend for help!"

"You could have asked when I wasn't busy." Rudy repeated, obviously struggling to keep his cool. "I'm not going to drop everything for you, Rex!"

"Yeah? Of course not, but I bet you'd drop everything for her." Rex pointed at Amanda, who had a front row seat to the argument standing in the doorway. The two locked eyes for a moment, then Rudy looked away to glare at Rex.

"At least she offers something to the team. She's an invaluable asset and I need to keep her safe." He didn't need to shout, his tone and words cut deeper than raw anger could.

"Well pardon me for wanting to be able to use my fucking hand--"

"Excuse me?" Amanda snapped, glaring at Rudy. "Rex is my friend, and I won't reciprocate your crush on me just because you look like him and aged down for me. I don't owe you shit. And being a dick to the guy whose face you stole doesn't make you more appealing."

"But I--" Rudy was at a loss for words; a rare occurrence. Scrambling to regain his composure, he blurted out, "But I did this for you!"

"I don't owe you shit for that." she repeated firmly. "And if how you treat Rex is any indication, I wouldn't want to be with you, if this is how you treat a long time friend who needs help."

"Exactly!" Rex agreed, relieved that Amanda stepped in. Rudy glared at him before catching himself and looking back towards Amanda, who sighed angrily.

"He couldn't have asked Cecil!?" Rudy reiterated, grasping at straws trying to 'win' the argument he'd already lost.

"He's obviously uncomfortable with that, or he would've done it already. Something you would notice if you bothered to give him a second glance." Amanda snapped back. "He came to you for help, and you lectured him for it."

"I.."

"Let's go, Rex. This asshole isn't worth our time." she decided. Rex followed her out the door to rejoin the rest of the group with a satisfied sort of pride in his chest. It felt nice to be defended by someone other than himself.

The door slammed shut.

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alexhogh7137 · 3 years

Text

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Forty-Nine

Chapter Fifty: "...just as soon as Naharis thinks that things can't get any worse..I will make it worse.."

Word Count 3.5k

Warnings: brutal, heavy angst, mentions of blood and body parts, death of character

When you see Daario in the middle of the floor, bleeding from his abdomen, you feel a sense of regret. However, that soon passes when you see your people's faces. A sense of relief washes over them at such a sight that it gives you an immediate sense of purpose. You have to do what is right for your people.

Daario "Y/n..please-"

"Silence." He does as he was told, "You shall not speak, do you understand?" He looks down as he nods. You walk backwards, towards Ivar because he is your strength and your guidance. "As you all can see, your once leader of this kingdom is wounded. I have my reasons as to why, but my husband has informed me of some of the things Daario has done since I have been away-"

"He killed her!" A woman shouted.

"He killed who?"

"Helga, he killed Helga!" Your heart broke in your ribcage at the confirmation.

You slowly nod, "How did he do it-"

Daario "She's lying!"

"Hvitserk.." he looks at you and then draws his sword, approaching Daario.

Daario "No-NO!" Hvitserk does not listen to his words and gives him a fresh, deep wound. Close to the first one but still, not deep enough to kill him. Daario screams out in pain and it seems to amuse Ivar.

Hvitserk kneels down to him, looking him in the eye and tisks his tongue "She told you not to talk yet you still disobey.."

Daario "They're ly-" Hvitserk stops him from continuing with his blade to his throat.

"Hvitserk..not yet." Hvitserk hesitates to draw back his axe but he does. "Miss, please tell me what happened."

"She came to me one night in a panic. She told me what Daario was planning."

Ivar "What was he planning?"

"To overthrow you all, my king." Ivar bangs his crutch on the floor and clenches his jaw. "Helga told me that he was planning on returning to Kattegat in two moons time. She said that he noticed from his last visit how weak you looked, my queen." You recall that time being a painful one for you. "So he was waiting, hoping that you would weaken enough to kill you-"

Daario "THAT IS A LIE! Y/N, PLEASE! Do not listen to this!" You raise your hand, signaling him to stop talking.

"Continue."

Daario "Y/n!-"

"But Helga realized that she knew too much. She feared for her life and was too going to make her way to you but the morning of her attempt, he found her packing and slit her throat." You close your eyes because you could vividly see that happening to Helga, that it was unbearable.

"Is that all you wish to tell me?"

"Yes, my queen-"

"We fell ill!" An older gentleman shouted from the back. "We all did. Infants, children, men, women..the elderly. We think that he poisoned our livestock-"

Daario "I DID NO SUCH THING!"

"Ubbe, keep him quiet." Ubbe grabs him by the mouth, holding him still and quiet.

"That is a big accusation, please tell me why you think that." Multiple villagers explained why and it made you infuriated. Why? Because they too told you how many lives were lost due to the spread of an unknown illness.

"Thank you for telling me this. As you know, I will not allow such things to go unpunished. You are my people and therefore you all have a say in this man's death." Daario attempts to speak so Ubbe pushes on his wounds, causing him to scream. Ivar walks ahead of you, sweating from being so enraged. And in that moment you saw what was in his mind.You knew what he was planning.

Ivar "Do you all know who I am, huh?!"

"You are the son of Ragnar..aren't you?"

Ivar "I am. We are." He looks at his brother's, "and being a son of Ragnar, you all know of our reputation no?" They all shout in agreement. "So you know that he must die for the pain that he has caused all of you." Once again, they agree. "I cannot express to you my hatred towards cowards like him. A coward who got a taste of power and wanted more." He walks towards Daario, "Even if you tried, you would have never won Naharis." He leans in closer and whispers in his ear, "I've missed this.." Ubbe could hear what his brother spoke and his heart rate skyrocketed. Ivar has not killed anyone in quite some time and he has been a better man because of it. Ubbe just hopes that his brother is not the one who in fact kills Daario, that it will be someone else.

_____________________________

You spoke to your people and many of them suggested death by hanging. Some suggested death by fire and a few suggested death by sword. You took in consideration everyone's choice but you also have your own way of doing things. Especially when this man was indeed planning on returning to Kattegat to kill you and your family. The thought of trusting a man who you trusted with your kingdom, has betrayed you just makes you so ill. You cannot believe that this has happened, again. You let your people down and this has to stop.

Ivar "We have your dragon's here."

"Are you suggesting he gets eaten?"

Ivar "Not exactly," he chuckles, "I am suggesting he gets burned."

"Rightfully so.."

Ivar "Just as soon as Naharis thinks that things can't get worse. I will make it worse-"

Hvitserk "I want to kill him."

Ivar "Excuse me?"

Hvitserk "You heard what I said Ivar."

Ivar "And why should you get those honors, huh?"

Hvitserk "He was coming back to Kattegat Ivar..to try to kill all of us-"

Ivar "We know this Hvitserk-"

Hvitserk "And that includes Asta!" Ivar's emotions completely shifted instantly. You do not think that Ivar realized that Daario would have tried to kill her and that made him feel every emotion at once. "You can hurt him Ivar but I want to be the one to kill him."

Ivar "Alright. Only if Y/n agrees." Hvitserk looks at you with a need in his eyes. He needs this.

"Can I at least help..?"

Hvitserk's mouth forms a small smile, "I wouldn't want it any other way."

You have Ubbe and your viking guards, drag Daario into the courtyard of the kingdom. Your people gather and you stand in front of Daario. Your dragon's shriek at the first sight of what is about to happen. They can sense the change in the environment around them, the energy around them.

Ivar "So..how would you like to die?" He asks as he crutches his way towards the whimpering man. He, of course, does not answer. "Hmm?" He makes Daario look up at him by lifting his face with the sharp end of his crutch. "I asked you a question. Have you forgotten how to speak, huh?"

Daario "No" he coughs, "I just refuse to answer your question. Ivar..the Boneless."

Ivar snickers and looks at you for confirmation to hurt him, to which you let him. He takes his dagger and forces his mouth to be opened. Daario keeps his mouth tightly closed so Ubbe forces his mouth open by hitting him hard enough for him to scream. Once he does, Ivar takes the opportunity and cuts out his tongue. It was a shock to hear your people shouting in praise of what your husband just did to the man, but it put your heart at peace with what is happening today.

Ivar "Now..you can't speak." He wiggles his tongue in front of him with a proud smile on his face while the man screams and chokes on his own blood. "Maybe now, you will not talk when you're not allowed too..hm?" He rises himself and before he walks back to you, he throws Daario's tongue in his lap.

Ubbe "Who's next aye!?" Hvitserk grabs you before you could start to walk by grabbing your arm.

Hvitserk "Are you sure?"

"He was going to kill all of us Hvitserk. You said it yourself, that includes Asta. Yes..I am sure." He lets go of your arm and steps back. You kneel down in front of him, just as Ivar did moments prior and take out his own dagger.

"Just..nod for an answer." He looks at you, "Would you have killed Asta?" He looks around him, spotting Asta in the arms of a maiden, and shakes his head 'no'. You look behind you with hesitation in your eyes, to Hvitserk. In that moment, he knew what you were telling him, with your eyes. You did not know what to do.

Ubbe "Y/n..he is lying to you." You look up at him, "He has lied to you from the very beginning. He said no because he knows that you would spare him!" You knew what Ubbe was saying to be true, so you buried your emotions deep inside and placed the dagger between his legs. He starts to squirm immediately but that puts him in even more pain.

"You want me so badly, don't you?" He starts to scream, "Well how about I fix that problem then..hmm?" With one clean strike, the problem was fixed. Ivar was in shock at first, but then extremely impressed. Every viking shouted so loudly to show their approval that you could swear the whole world could hear them.

Ubbe "Neith, Eldr..Ryuu..DINNER!" He takes his privates from your hands and orders a guard to feed it to your dragon's. Daario has fallen unconscious from the pain of it all. Two stab wounds, now a loss of a tongue along with his privates. Could you blame him?

You look at Hvitserk, "Finish him off once he wakes." And he nods.

__________________________________

As you waited for Daario to wake, you had a talk with your people. Trying to figure out what to do since your kingdom needs a ruler, but you are to rule by Ivar's side.

"I feel as if I have failed you all. I trusted this man with you all and he has brought only agony. I wish that I knew what was happening here..I could have stopped it before it got to this point-"

"I sent you letters, my queen." A woman shouted.

"Letters? I never received your letters."

Ivar "He must have stopped the order."

"He must have, we have not received any letters from any of you."

"That explains why-"

"We thought he had already killed you!" A young boy said.

Ivar "When? From his last trip?"

"Yes, my king. He said that it was his mission. We figured once he returned, that the queen of Wessex was dead." You look at your husband and then to Hvitserk. Both of them had hate in their eyes, but also fear. They had no idea of Daario's intentions. They had speculations, but never enough to act upon.

Ivar "Well," he walks closer to the people, "I can assure you all, I would have never let that happen." He offers them a smile, to which they nod and smile back. "Your queen is a fierce queen. Strong and noble, but with a good heart. He wouldn't have been able to kill her."

Hvitserk "Your queen would have saved you all, if she had received those letters."

"We know. That is why we thought that you were all dead." The maiden who is holding Asta said.

"I am here. I am here for you all."

They all shout in unison. They never stopped believing in you. They never lost their love for their queen. Only feared of your demise.

Daario wakes, barely. He tries to move, but is too weak from the loss of blood. You are surprised to see him still alive, but you are glad to see that Hvitserk will get his chance of revenge.

Hvitserk walks in front of your people and draws this axe, "I am aware that you all do not know me very well. You notice me always by your queens side, and being a son of Ragnar Lothbrok. But before I kill the man that almost killed my family, I would like to tell you why I wish to do so." He takes a step forward, "Your queen has endured more than most people do in their entire lifetime on this earth. And so have my brothers and I. My brother Ivar is a king, yes. But he suffers pain every single second that many of us cannot even comprehend." Ivar puts his head down, "And Ubbe has his own demons that he fights everyday and as for me..well. Where to start. Before Y/n came into our lives I have lost every woman I have ever loved, became an alcoholic and many more things. But since meeting her, we all became a better person. And to stand here today and hear from you good people that Daario Naharis was going to kill us all…" he walks backwards and spins his body around to face Daario, and with a loud growl, he decapitates him.

Hvitserk looks immensely happier seconds after his actions, "I will not allow that to happen." Your people look at Hvitserk, down at the headless body a few feet away from them, and then to each other. Moments after, they bow before Hvitserk Lothbrok. To you, that made you realize who would rule your kingdom while you were in Kattegat.

…

Your dragon's fought over Naharis' body but all three of them got their fair share of him. With your people content, Ivar, Hvitserk and Ubbe more than content and your daughter now safe, you are now at peace once again. Your life is like one big rollercoaster that you so wish to keep a steady, straight line from this day forward. But you know that that was not possible. If it were, that would be the life of everyone. And where is the excitement in calmness?

You take Asta in your arm's and you can feel the love she has for you in one touch of her hand. She grabs your face and you kiss her little fingers. Hvitserk notices and walks up to you.

Hvitserk "She is safe now kitten."

"Yes."

Hvitserk "What is it?"

"Oh nothing." A smirk forms on your face that you can't hide.

Hvitserk "What are you planning?"

"Something that I think that you will absolutely love." His eyebrows furrow and a smile forms on his face.

Hvitserk "You are sleeping with me tonight?!"

You burst laughing, "No. Well, if you want me to-but..you will find out soon enough."

Hvitserk scuffs, "Why can't you just tell me huh?"

"And why can't you be patient?" You kiss him on the cheek and then join your people. "LET'S FEAST!" you shouted.

You have already made your decision on who will rule Wessex but you wish to tell Ivar before you tell everyone around you. Ivar kisses your lips and tells you how proud he is of you.

Ivar "I didn't expect that of you, my sweetheart."

"Oh I surprised you did I?" He laughs, "My my my, I have made Ivar Lothbrok speechless!"

Ivar shushes you by crashing his lips onto yours and pulls back, "Only you have that power over me."

"Mm?"

Ivar "Mhm."

"So, I have been thinking, my love."

Ivar "About?"

"My kingdom, of course."

Ivar "What about it?" He asks before taking a sip of his ale.

"Leaving it with a new ruler." And his glass pauses by his lips as he stops his sudden movements. "I think that you will like my decision."

Ivar "Your last decision tried to kill us-"

"This man is family!"

Ivar pauses, "Family?...Hvitserk."

"Hvitserk." You give him a moment to process this and then he smiles.

Ivar "Alright then."

"Do you approve?"

Ivar takes a deep breath, "Approval is a strong word-"

"Ivar-"

Ivar "Let me finish. My brother has always wanted to be a king. So to have him be the ruler of Wessex..would be a change for him."

"Do you think that he will accept?"

Ivar "Hvitserk wouldn't say no."

You nod, "You saw my people bow to him.."

Ivar "Yes, they did."

"So that means that they already worship Hvitserk in a way."

Ivar "You can say that.."

"Okay, then it is settled. Hvitserk becomes the ruler of Wessex." Ivar sköls to that, making your heart burst with joy.

___________________________

The night came over Wessex and everyone gathered inside the castle for warmth. You have your men prepare a huge fire to make sure that everyone is comfortable and warm. Ivar has been holding Asta since the death of Daario. You have not seen him hold her for this long before. It has been hours and he has just held her in his arms so peacefully.

"Do you want me to hold her?"

Ivar "No, she is about to fall asleep." You look down and see her little blue eyes flutter sleepily.

"I know but you have been holding her for hours-"

Ivar "Have I really?"

"Yes my love."

Ivar "Huh? Time has slipped my mind I suppose."

"Is everything alright?"

Ivar "Everything is perfect now, my sweet."

"You have never held her this long before.."

Ivar "That is going to change now, I promise."

"Ivar-"

Ivar "No I am not going to fail Asta Y/n. I failed Baldur..he was deformed-"

"That was not your fault!"

Ivar "No, but I believe it is because she told me that he was my son even though I know that he wasn't." You just listen to his words, "I know that she is not mine but I will always love her like she is."

"She loves you Ivar. She always will."

Ivar smiles, "I hope that she won't fear me like everyone else does."

"Those people do not know the real you, Ivar. They know the old you."

Ivar "Mm. That is true. But in any case, I want them to fear me."

"There's the king that I married." You kiss his lips as he smiles. "I have to make the announcement.."

Ivar "Go, I got her."

"I love you."

Ivar "So much."

You walk up in front of your people, in front of the fire. Everyone's eyes were on you but all you saw was your family: Hvitserk, Ivar and Ubbe. You locked eyes with Hvitserk instantly and he did the same. He smiles at you, making you smile back. Then, you took a deep breath and proceeded.

"As you all know, I rule Kattegat with my husband Ivar. With Daario gone, we must have a new ruler to lead you all while I am in Kattegat. This decision should have been my very first but I foolishly did not think of it. But I swear to you, this man will never fail you. He will never harm you or put you in danger. He is a strong man, a noble man. I love this man and I know that he will lead you all with honesty." You look at Hvitserk and he looks confused. "That man's name is Hvitserk Lothbrok."

And in that moment, everyone began to cheer. Their cups of ale crashed together and everyone was so happy. Hvitserk now smiles as it clicks in his head once you offer your hand to him. He rises from his seat and walks up to you and joins hands with yours.

"I am sure that you have a lot to say."

Hvitserk "Y/n are you sure? What about Asta?"

"We will figure it out, I am not leaving you tonight. I do not know when we will go back to Kattegat but I am certain Hvitserk. There's no one else I want to rule here. You are the only one I trust."

Hvitserk "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything-"

Hvitserk "I love you."

"And I love you. Now talk to them.." he kisses your forehead and walks closer to them all.

Hvitserk "I must say that this came as a surprise. But I swear on my arm ring to never fail you all. I have always wished to be a king one day. Be a good one, like my father Ragnar was. My brother Ivar knows my dreams and I am sure that he was surprised as well."

Ivar "I knew!"

Hvitserk laughs, "I am overjoyed! Tonight we will feast to many joyous moments that took place on this day! And I will make sure that you all will thrive-"

"HAIL HVITSERK!" A man shouted and soon followed every man and woman in the kingdom. You join Ivar at this time and shouted with them. Hvitserk holds in his tears of joy but one strays and you notice.

You whisper, "Look Asta, look at daddy-" she coos, "He will make Wessex great again. Great for you to one day rule, little one." Seconds after those words left your lips, a vision crept into your eyes. You see Asta as a young woman and Hvitserk by her side. They look at each other and share a quick smile before he himself, places the crown upon her head.

THE END

@hvitserkmarcosource @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @a-mess-of-fandoms @krissydclayton93 @readsalot73 @heavenly1927 @saldelys

#the battle between love and fire #alex hogh andersen #vikings #ivar the boneless #hvitserk #marco ilsø #ubbe lothbrok #marco ilsoe #hvitserk lothbrok #ivar lothbrok

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lizzybeth1986 · 5 years

Note

What are your overall thoughts on Madeleine as a character including what transpired between her and Hana? I've felt iffy about her, but I'm not sure how to phrase that. I think you can better articulate and explain than I could 😅

Not to boast…but you’ve come to the right person (besides @callmetippytumbles who has made excellent points time and again about how the writing centers Madeleine in ways that they should have been centering Hana). I have written A LOT about that issue especially. Here are some of my meta on that if you’re interested:

Brushed Under the Carpet: Madeleine as an Alternate LI (this was written after TRR Book 3 Chapter 9, where they were subtly hinting at making them a ship).

QT on Book 3 Chapter 16 (Tbh thankfully the bit I was predicting here - Madeleine getting the coming out story that should have been Hana’s - wound up not happening, though part of it could have been from them having to scrap the entire idea after the backlash).

How Do You Fix Hana’s Characterization in TRR? (this essay listed a whole set of changes both to help strengthen Hana’s storyline and to give her the attention and validation she deserved but didn’t get in the actual story)

This replay to an ask posted after 3 of the 4 writers on the team claimed Hana was the kind of person they would marry.

A lot of this illustrates my problems with Madeleine on a level of characterization (and Tippy covers the aspects that deal not with Hana, but with Madeleine's half-baked redemption arc and how the narrative tries really hard to convince us that she does her job well, even when she isn’t doing it properly).

With regards to Madeleine herself, I feel like they started out fully intending that the reader hate her and view her as a rival, before turning the tables and establishing her as “innocent” of the conspiracy (though still extremely unlikeable). In narrative structure, the bachelorette chapter had a lot of striking similarities to the Lythikos chapter where you found out about Olivia’s painful childhood before she mocked Drake about his missing sister. I feel like the aim was to make us see Madeleine in a different light, while still remembering why we dislike her.

Somewhere along the line (with Hana’s chocolate scene) they went too far, and Madeleine went from unlikeable to completely repulsive. After that, the team attempted to completely backtrack, by cramming in a sympathy arc for her and after the “hazing process” excuse, what she did to Hana especially was never addressed again. Suddenly she was the patriot who would sacrifice her life and happiness for Cordonia, a figure to be admired and pitied. A woman who was immensely talented and did her job well [even when she actually didn’t]). Most of her characterization, really, consists of retconning.

But I have no interest in Madeleine, or her characterization. I just don’t. No, what I’m going to touch upon today is narrative treatment.

–

Rival figures are important in a story. They’re a foil to the main character: sometimes they exist simply to make the MC look better (ew), sometimes they’re there to show the MC what the larger society in their world is like, and what challenges they may face, and sometimes they’re an unexpected ally after the MC figures out the problem goes way deeper than the rivalry with them. So if you have a rival who behaves badly, treats the people around her badly? That in itself is not really a bad thing.

It makes me hurt for the characters at the receiving end, but as long as long as the narrative validates their experience on its own initiative, and allows them space, I will be fine. If I’m shown bullying and abuse in a narrative towards a character, I’m going to want to see the person hurting from this:

1. have support. Immense support

2. have a friend circle that will protect them and put them first

3. have opportunities to talk about what this is doing to them

4. have opportunities to push back against the bully

Personally the bully’s journey or whatever is of no importance to me. I simply don’t care. As much as possible I would not care about what grand monumental realizations they get behind the scenes, or what their rotten-egg-smelling guilt looks like. What matters to me is the person bullied. I need to see them win. I need to see them thrive. I need to see them receive support and validation.

One example I can give in terms of that being done well, is Penelope. Penelope is treated like a servant by Madeleine, called names, forever reminded she is good-for-nothing and useless and can’t do anything right. The bullying is constant and puts an already anxiety-ridden Penelope under additional pressure, to the point that when we meet her at Portavira in Book 3 she is VERY reluctant to return to court, and panics when certain things remind her of Madeleine’s behaviour. You have to coddle and cajole her with promises that Madeleine would never be able to do anything to her, and that she can bring her Emotional Support Animals with her to court. If we choose not to address her concerns, our friends will do it on our behalf. Drake Trauma-Minimizing Walker himself, is shown reassuring her the moment they meet in Portavira:

So it is very possible, even if the rival/bitchy character is expected to not feel remorse, and still retains a huge portion of her bitchiness, that we can still get a satisfying arc where the person in pain has support and care, and can thrive.

In Penelope’s case, perhaps the only downside may be that, while the narrative is clear about Madeleine’s bullying and its impact on Penelope, it still keeps Madeleine comfortably away from this narrative so she doesn’t even have to engage with it. She herself doesn’t exactly face consequences. The truth doesn’t even touch her.

But we don’t feel the pinch of this, so much with Penelope… precisely because PENELOPE is validated, given support and is given the space to completely refuse to even go with them if the MC doesn’t make great efforts to support and be nice to her (this, even though she has herself harmed us). She is allowed to get upset if we even question her on not following the dress code of our bachelorette, because it reminds her of Madeleine’s. She is even “rewarded” with a guy, no matter which playthrough.

And not every character is going to be a Penelope who will require that level of coddling from other people. So it’s not always about the MC and others needing to constantly protect and reassure such people. Sometimes it’s just simply about whether said character is allowed to push back against the bully. Hana gets a small measure of this when she’s allowed (but only on one occasion, that too a 30 diamond scene that wasn’t even coded properly later) to tell Olivia exactly what she thinks of her (and Olivia is allowed to say shit about her even after that, without Hana ever being allowed the same space again).

Now the thing with Hana (with regards to Madeleine) is…that they could have easily given her space to push back. Easily given the MC opportunities to protect her. Easily ensured that Hana didn’t have to engage with Madeleine if she didn’t want to. Have her whack friends fucking remember what she was put through at least!!!

Let’s go through how that could have been done one by one:

Pushing Back: One of the most bizarre choices the TRR team made was the give the scene about Liam telling Hana he would get her back to court (ergo, that Hana returned through Liam’s help, not Madeleine as the latter kept claiming) to Drake! He gets to narrate this story to the MC, but Hana herself is never allowed to acknowledge the fact or even talk about it. If she were, she would have at least (at the very least!!!) been given chances to hint at Madeleine twisting the truth, implied as much to Madeleine or to the MC, pushed back in her own unique way. The narrative not only pushes the truth of her return in DRAKE’S scene…it also never gives HER the opportunity to do anything actively against Madeleine’s very obvious twisting of the truth. Just so that Madeleine would continue to have way more power over Hana throughout. The bullying occurs much before the incident in Italy, but Hana herself is expected to stay silent.

Support: Now it’s not as if Penelope gets to push back on her own to Madeleine during this time either (except for a few comments here and there). But Penelope does get plenty of support and eventually protection. Does this apply to Hana as well?

Technically, you could view the fondue party scene that took place after the “chocolate allergy” incident as “support” - but at best it’s very weak “support”, and at its worst it really just a scene revolves around all the other characters (especially around gaining Olivia’s friendship), with a hurt, frightened Hana hovering in the background of the scene.

The MC has the option (option!!) to “call Madeleine out” on the events of the previous night when they’re in Paris, but it mostly results in Madeleine pretending it was a test of some sort (which the MC never bothers to contradict even though she knows better). The best case scenario is, well, that…and the worst case scenario is that Hana never really finds out even that, up until the end.

Speaking Out and Validation: Not only does the narrative not address the bullying after it has happened (until the very end of the series), it uses Hana - the woman who was harmed - to minimize its impact as well. On the one occasion you actually do get to talk to her about the night of Madeleine’s bachelorette party, they make Hana say (if you state that you don’t remember anything from that night), that "the tequila brought out Kiara's mean side, and Madeleine's fun side". Madeleine’s “fun side”, presumably, involves her laughing over targeting, torturing and breaking the vulnerable women in her court I suppose. (also, way to do Kiara dirty while forgetting what Madeleine did, PB!)

Further ahead, the MC and her friends promptly forget about this - Hana is expected to help the MC extract important information from her without even bothering to find out if she is comfortable or not, for instance. The forgetfulness gets to the point where, in the epilogue, (when Madeleine repeats to Hana what she’d told the MC back then) the MC acts like it is the first time she is hearing about Madeleine’s intentions to break Hana.

So forget about getting validation, for a large chunk of the narrative Hana wasn’t even allowed to view her own experience with bullying as painful. And if anything, her friend circle didn’t mind putting her needs and comfort last when it suited them.

The biggest problem about the storyline that involves Hana and Madeleine is the question of who should be getting more space and development, and who actually does. The time and energy spent on Hana navigating a court like this which such threats over her head…is spent instead on literally everything else. The time that could have been spent working on Hana’s background and childhood history…was spent to build Madeleine’s redemption arc instead (ironically, Adelaide starts feeding us with that sympathy arc in Shanghai, Hana’s home).

Effort was spent on extolling Madeleine efficiency and great work, even though there was very little of it to be seen. Effort was spent on making Madeleine look patriotic and not power-hungry, in making it clear to us that her father’s rejections left an impact on her. Even the story involving her attraction to Hana revolved more around HER, not around the woman she hurt. Was the same effort put into exploring Hana’s own struggle in court? In how she feels when people hurt her? In whether she is comfortable doing certain things? I think we all know the answer to that.

The key to why I hate Madeleine’s story so much isn’t that she’s a horrible person. You can be a horrible person and still have a compelling story. You can be a horrible person, and unapologetic about it, but still have the narrative validate what the people you had harmed went through.

It’s that the narrative and team knows and acknowledges her toxic behaviour, but only for a character that they like. They conveniently decided to cherry pick who would be comforted and given reassurance, and who would be forced to praise her bully for her ‘patriotism’. I should have been spending way less time on Madeleine’s redemption and coddling Penelope, and more time on making Hana feel safe in a largely alien place where she has no one but us - and where she is staying only for our protection. My problem is that they didn’t consider Hana’s pain important enough to even address, much less validate.

#anti the royal romance #hana lee #anti madeleine #ask me #anonymous #did i just take an ask about madeleine and talk about very little but hana instead? yes. yes i did #hana deserved better. hana DESERVES better #and don't even get me started on validation penelope gets that kiara doesn't #that's a topic for another post but i will stay mad about it #long post #bullying tw #courtly ladies anon

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punkscowardschampions · 5 years

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Drew & Ro

Drew: [lunch time 'cos Ro is too good and busy swotting to text in lessons and we all know it] Drew: Hey my love, how's your day going? 💘 Ro: Fine, thank you Drew: Well Drew: clearly not Drew: what's wrong? 😔 Ro: Hm, I wonder Drew: Try talking to me about it Drew: come on Ro: Oh so now you'd like to talk Ro: Interesting Drew: I always want to talk to you Drew: don't be silly Ro: Do not call me silly Drew: I'm not but I don't understand why you're being so agressive with me right now Ro: Well, I don't understand why you think it's perfectly acceptable to spend the weekend at Carly's, without so much as checking in with me at any point, and expect me not to have a negative reaction to that Drew: Well, I know you had ample invite to attend too, almost as well as I know and knew you wouldn't want to come Drew: not to mention it was your sister's birthday Drew: one of us had to show face there, no? Ro: So it's my fault? Okay Drew: I'm not trying to place blame Drew: I'm just asking, why are you mad Ro: Either you or I could have been dead in a ditch, why do you not care? Drew: That's a little dramatic, babe Drew: I care about you but I knew you were at home Drew: why would I be worried Ro: And I knew exactly where you were so why wouldn't I be worried? Drew: Babe Drew: You're so sweet but you don't need to worry about me ever Drew: I can take care of myself Ro: Please do not babe me or misunderstand me right now Drew: What's the problem? Ro: If you want to behave as though you are single, be single Ro: It's not a problem Drew: What are you talking about Drew: because we're dating, I'm not allowed to go out? Drew: I'm sure you don't mean it that way but that sounds so controlling Ro: Of course you're allowed to go out, Drew Ro: I'm simply trying to ascertain why you want to go there so badly Ro: Or I would be if it wasn't obvious Drew: Want didn't come into it, particularly Drew: sure, it was fine, standard party Drew: as I said, one of us had to, you know she doesn't have many friends Ro: She had Ali and Caleb Drew: Yeah, would you want to be left out of things? Drew: We're all friends Ro: I'm aware of how easily she makes friends Drew: That's something you'll have to sort between yourselves Drew: I'm not interested in a catfight Drew: I barely spoke to her, if that makes you feel any better Ro: If it's true, it does Drew: of course I didn't Drew: she was off her head, that kept her plenty busy Drew: ask Caleb or Ali if you really don't believe me Drew: but that hurts, not gonna lie Ro: Less than a moment ago you were trying to explain to me that you two are best friends and she desperately needed you there as a guest so forgive me if I'm now slightly unsure of you saying that you barely saw or spoke to her Ro: I do know what she's like though Ro: Which is why I had no desire to attend Drew: I did not say that Drew: it's about showing up Drew: and I had no desire to force you Ro: Showing up for her Drew: What good would me showing up on Saturday have done Drew: your sister doesn't like me Drew: Ali's mum, either Ro: I like you Drew: Do you? Ro: I wouldn't feel jealous if I didn't Drew: Jealous? Of her? Drew: You're so funny Drew: she's nothing in comparison to you, please Ro: It's not funny in the least if you'd rather spend time with her instead of me Drew: of course I wouldn't Drew: it's Drew: your family Drew: I'm just not comfortable around them Ro: I know Ro: And I am sorry for that, for them Drew: I know, it isn't your fault Drew: I'm not blaming you Drew: can't you come here after school Drew: I miss you Ro: Do you miss me enough for me to cancel on all the piano lessons I'm supposed to give? Drew: Definitely Ro: I shouldn't, Tess is in a really bad mood, but of course I want to Drew: All the more reason to come see me Drew: let Ali deal, it's because of her, not you Ro: I doubt very much she'll be here herself but yes, you do make a persuasive point Ro: Are you going to feel better by then? Drew: True Drew: depends how well she's feeling, and Caleb Drew: I'm fine, I told you Drew: as long as we are? Ro: You did tell me that but I'd like you to be better than fine, because I've missed you too Drew: then come Ro: Okay Ro: Forgive me so I can forgive you Drew: I forgive you Drew: it's cute, really Ro: You're really cute and forgiven Drew: 😊 Drew: I like you too, you know Ro: Do you? Drew: Yes Drew: I'll show you Ro: I wish you had decided to come to school and could therefore be here with me now Drew: I'm sorry 😔 Drew: even trying to half keep up with everyone meant I was a little worse for wear Drew: but I'm surviving Ro: What can I bring you so you feel better, other than myself? Drew: 😏 Drew: you're so nice Ro: I can respect any ceasefire that's called, and anyway, I don't actually enjoy being anything other than nice to you, deserved or otherwise Ro: I'll be less and less nice if you keep me waiting on an answer to my question though Ro: I feel very impatient all of a sudden Drew: Awh come on, babe Drew: you've gotta be nice, you know I deserve that Ro: Hm Ro: For liking and missing me, don't I deserve that? Drew: You know what I want Drew: you're smart Ro: Not that it would take a genius Ro: I want the same things, you know Drew: Yeah? Drew: You could always show me Ro: Once you've shown me how much you like me, as you've already agreed to do, it'd be so unforgivable of me not to at least attempt to do the same, wouldn't it? Drew: [an array of lovely pictures 'cos he's so vain as we know lol, you asked for this Rosaline] Ro: I hope making me speechless is what you also want because Drew: unless you're planning to do a video for me, like Drew: it's definitely a bonus Ro: I'm at school not the relative privacy of my own home, remember, I can't make any such plans Drew: Worth a shot 😉 Ro: Are you trying to get me expelled? Drew: Maybe Drew: you know you'd rather be with me right now Ro: You know I would is what you mean Drew: Details, details, babe Drew: your record is far too spotless for that Drew: you'd barely get in trouble, I bet Drew: and that's only if you got caught, anyway Ro: Details are very important Ro: You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss them Drew: I won't Drew: when you send your pictures I'll study them very, very carefully Ro: When I send them I'll make sure you'll want to Ro: My record is spotless because I am a perfectionist Drew: you're so hot Ro: Hotter than her? Drew: of course Drew: hotter than any girl at our school Ro: That's actually impossible Ro: Ali goes to our school, when she can be bothered Drew: so? Drew: you're hotter than her Ro: No, I'm not Drew: you are to me Ro: I don't know what to say Drew: you're my girlfriend for a reason Ro: Yes, but I suppose I don't always understand what that reason is Drew: well I know it so you don't need to worry about that Ro: I'll try, which as you know means I'll succeed eventually Drew: 💘 Ro: Lunch is almost over, not to be the bearer of bad news Drew: am I getting my pictures Ro: That's actually impossible as well Ro: How can I? Drew: come on, all you need is a second in the bathroom stall Ro: Oh god no, the lighting in there is awful! You'd leave me immediately after they were received Drew: I promise you, no boy gives a shit about lighting Ro: I'm taking no such chances, thank you Ro: Besides you're not just any boy, you're you and I'll be worth the wait as I said, because I'm me Drew: 😒 Ro: Drew Ro: Believe me Drew: Whatever Drew: have a nice afternoon Ro: I obviously won't if you're annoyed with me Drew: just Drew: how can I believe you? Drew: this isn't the first time, is it Ro: I'll keep apologising if you wish but I'm well aware that isn't what you really want Ro: Nevertheless, irrespective of this being the first time or not, I don't have a speech prepared ready and waiting to put all your misgivings to rest Drew: Don't Drew: just don't say it if you aren't gonna do it Ro: Don't speak to me like that Ro: Like I'm sitting here, planning this Drew: Like what Drew: it's what happened, I've not been rude about it Ro: And I'm grateful for that, okay? You've been so good to me about everything Ro: I did mean what I said though, I do want everything you want Drew: Whenever you're ready then Ro: Do you still want to see me later or should I not cancel piano? Drew: you decide Drew: see how serious you are Ro: There's no decision to be made, of course I want to see you, it's been days Ro: I've been thinking about you constantly in all of that time Drew: I missed you too Ro: I'll come over now if it'll help restore your faith in me Drew: Serious? Ro: I'm hardly known for my sense of humour, am I? Ro: You're important to me, I want you to know that and if you truly don't, well Ro: I'll have to take steps, starting now Drew: You're really special Drew: you know that? Drew: too nice to me Ro: All of that is as true about you and could easily be directed at me Ro: I really do know how special you are and I'm going to lose you just because I Ro: Well, for starters because I don't know how to finish that sentence Ro: *not Drew: You won't Drew: it's okay, I like you, remember Ro: But is it okay if I more than like you? Drew: I'm not going to complain Ro: Please don't because I'm leaving school right now and it would honestly be so awkward Drew: 😂 Drew: I promise Ro: Fine, I believe you and I'll keep walking towards rather than away from you then Drew: Good, please do Ro: You know I have no choice but to meet your politeness with my own Drew: You don't need to be polite when you get here Drew: it's just me and you Ro: However you want me to behave when I get there, that's of course what I need to do Drew: Babe Ro: Sorry, that was a lot of enthusiasm on my part, I can also do aloof and hard to get if you'd rather that during the longest bus ride in history Drew: Enthusiasm is good Drew: I like it Ro: Mentally noted Ro: What else do you like? Drew: That's a big question Ro: Oh. Well, it doesn't have to be Drew: like you said, doesn't take a genius Drew: you know Ro: I want it to be perfect though Ro: Not just for me but for you Drew: I can make that happen\ Drew: trust me Ro: I have so much faith in you Drew: I'm not gonna let you down Ro: I might let you down, I already have Drew: Impossible Ro: It's certainly a lot more plausible than the two of us falling for each other the way we have but there's no denying it happened or how real my feelings for you are Drew: 💘 Ro: I'm doing our homework, yes mine AND yours which I dutifully collected from morning lessons so that we don't have to waste any more time once I finally arrive Ro: Everything indeed does happen for a reason including how far away you live from all other marks of civilisation Drew: And you question why we're together Drew: you're the best Drew: don't need to tell me that though, it's the worst Drew: all the biking I do means I can skip leg day though so that's something Ro: Next time I'll definitely follow suit and bring my bike, not that I intend on making a habit out of taking the bus at this particular time of day Ro: But it would undoubtedly be more productive, homework assignments notwithstanding Drew: Shame 😜 Ro: Are you determined to be such a bad influence for the duration of our relationship or simply on days when you miss me? Drew: But I miss you always, of course Ro: I see, in that case, I'll have to always do whatever I can to ensure you don't have to Drew: that's the plan Drew: I need to go shower before you get here Ro: Go Ro: I have essays to write Drew: 😘 Ro: féach leat go luath, mo chroí 💗

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swanandapirate · 6 years

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A Muted Hue of Grey (1/14) -- CSBB

Summary: Emma Swan liked being a PI in Boston. It was a fun job, she had an okay income and she was a good one at that, so there was no logical reason to try and leave. Except for the fact that she wanted to, so badly. And, when she received a job offer for what seemed to be the opportunity of a lifetime, she did exactly that. Leave. Run. All the way to London. The job was simple: trailing a man called Killian Jones. Easy enough.

Well, until things get complicated, that is.

Rating: M (later mentions of violence, alcohol abuse, and sex)

Wordcount: 2934

Links: ao3 // ff.net

A/N: Pheeewww it's finally here! Over a year ago, I came up with yet another prompt that I thought I was never going to write and then had the crazy idea to write it as a part of @captainswanbigbang which was one of the best decisions I’ve made in a long time. I've been working on this story for months and at last, it is done and ready to be posted. This has been a 61K labor of love with a couple of obstacles along the road (I’m looking at you, uni). I owe major gratitude to my betas and superheroes @acourtoftruelove and @ofshipsandswans for sometimes yelling at me, often correcting me, and always squealing along with me. I couldn't have done this without them.

And check out the banner and amazing picset by the lovely @shady-swan-jones who gave this fic the perfect art to go along with it.

So, without further ado: A Muted Hue of Grey.

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God, why were there so many people?

She thought Boston was bad but London was, quite frankly, ten times worse. She had to keep her lips pursed together to keep from grunting and swearing every two seconds. Tourists here, street vendors there. Cyclists who ran a red light, almost plowing her over when she had every right to cross as the green stick figure had given her permission. The city had its charm, of course, but not when she needed to focus and could not be distracted by a girl taking a selfie in the middle of the road while blocking every other person walking there. Emma had a mission and she couldn’t fuck it up.

Avoiding eye contact with the pubescent-looking guy, clipboard in hand and a bright raincoat with a logo of some non-profit organization branded on his back, she continued on. It had to be far from an enjoyable job, standing outside, braving the cold and the rain only to be turned down time after time. Emma did feel sorry for the teenagers. She wasn’t against supporting animals or the environment, far from it actually, but more often than not the “have you heard about this cause” talk generated a nuisance that could only be avoided by lowering her gaze and crossing the road. There was no time to politely listen to them rattle their practiced speech only to politely decline with the answer that she would think about it. Especially now.

Sounds of a busker infiltrated the buzz of the people around her, of all those conversations held between the commuters or across the phone. The chords played on the battered guitar were familiar, ones she’d definitely heard before, and when the words joined the rest of the music, Emma shook her head with a trace of a smile appearing, feeling foolish that she didn’t figure it out earlier. Wonderwall, of course.

While the street musicians lacked originality vis-a-vis their choice of music (John Lennon, Oasis, Goo Goo Dolls, Radiohead; she’d heard it all a thousand times), most of them did possess a lot of talent. Emma halted more often than not—when she wasn’t in a hurry—to listen to their rendition of some cliché song, giving them whatever spare change she had in her purse or pocket and in return being thanked with a smile.

Honestly, London wasn’t all that bad. Her apartment was shit, yes; there was no point in attempting to gloss over that. It was impossible to hide the mold stains and pretend the ice water squirting out of the defect shower was pleasant and warm. Although her landlord was of that opinion somehow; anything to get him out of spending time and effort to fix some bothersome issues he’d rather ignore. The jackass.

She didn’t have any friends after moving here, yes, that was true too. But she could handle being alone, she was quite experienced with loneliness and independence, had learned to be resourceful and creative every time she lacked an extra pair of hands, an additional set of eyes or simply some new company.

The city wasn’t all that great either, but Emma could think of worse places to be. New York, for one, where the large crowds only resulted in chaos; a heavily-polluted, siren-screeching mess. London, however, seemed more structured to Emma. The perfect place to be undercover, to blend into the masses and only reappear when she felt like it all the while still retaining a sense of overview. And for what her job consisted of, that trait was necessary and ideal.

It had taken a while to grow accustomed to the British manners, the overabundance of pet names (she had to keep herself from answering “I’m not your love” everytime she got called some sort of variation), to everything basically. From the way they ordered food to the way their traffic was directed—god, she’s never been so afraid for people riding a bike as she was for the cyclists risking their lives between the swerving and honking cars.

It had been a struggle to not be the American amongst Brits and to not ooze her Americanness in the way she moved and the way she looked. It had taken a combination of observing and adapting, but now, Emma was sure she appeared as any other London goer. One last disclosure was the moment she would open her mouth and began talking in an accent that could not be interpreted as anything but American. Luckily for her, however, she was never the socializing type so she was able to restrict unnecessary communication to a minimum. Yay for being a loner.

She scanned the crowded bridge before her again, adjusting the camera around her neck. Its synthetic band was uncomfortably chafing against the skin of her neck, turning it raw and itchy. In a soothing manner, her hand massaged the dry patch of skin, but to no avail. She had to stop thinking about it, the irritation would only get worse.

A distraction presented itself and Emma let out a relieved sigh when she obtained a visual confirmation that the selfie-taking girl had not ruined everything. It had taken her more than a week to figure the whole situation out, to know where she should be and at what time. The shortcuts she was supposed to take were etched into her mind, a detailed treasure map with a moving X. Left here, two blocks ahead another left, she could almost do it with her eyes closed—if it weren’t for the other people.

If anyone ever asked her what her dream job was, her answer wouldn’t be traipsing around London by foot, but she’d made the choice for this profession a long time ago—after she’d been beaten up as a bail bonds person far too often—and it had stuck. She was good at what she did and after a couple of jobs, her reputation began to precede her. Offers came from left and right, giving her a wide array of choices and letting her be picky, a luxury she could not afford when she was younger. It helped her to be able to fly to another continent and pay way too much for her shit apartment.

The move here was a bit radical, almost crazy, but she’d been asked and she was never one to pass up on a good work opportunity. Her ties back in America weren’t deeply rooted. They could easily be yanked out to start afresh and even though she’d had some mournful and aghast responses to her news, all of her friends knew her enough to have prepared for this situation. They had always kept an eye open for the impending moment, the sudden flash when Emma would get sick of the suburban life and would want a whole one-eighty. The whole picket fence life… well, she wasn’t there yet and doubted she ever would.

She’d come back eventually; this job wasn’t going to take years of her life, but there was no haste either. She would return home with a new experience and some new stories under her belt. No new friends; Emma wasn’t idealistic enough to expect herself to suddenly gain friends. Nor was she social enough; the only things she did were work and return home.

Every day, she took the same route, she visited the same places. The coffee shop across the street that had the surly-looking barista but had the best price-quality ratio. The laundromat two blocks over that didn’t communicate their closing hours clearly enough and had automatically locked Emma inside when she’d noticed at 9.49 pm that she had no clean underwear anymore. The night shop that provided Emma with midnight snacks and drinks and its joyful owner who always gave her a discount. Places with people, but none she spoke more words than hello, bye and thank you to.

It had taken her years to gather and open up to the people she frequently came across back in Boston: the girl with the pixie cut who lived in 2A, her sandy-haired boyfriend, the owner of the diner Emma ate at every Monday morning, the martial arts coach at the gym she used to work out at until she was sweaty and exhausted. Years of coaxing on their part, asking her in the hallway, in the locker room, mid-breakfast to hang out, only to be met by her immediate refusal. Years of learning to trust.

Honestly, she was grateful they never stopped trying, never let being cast off by the solid brick walls surrounding her deter them. They saw something in her—Zeus knows what exactly that was—and wanted to include her, let her enter their little but tight-knit circle of people when they barely knew her. Their only reasoning was that “she looked like she could use some company”, a direct quote from the circle’s mother, Mary Margaret, also known as 2A’s pixie cut.

Emma subtly curled her lips and closed her eyes as she thought back to the people back home, momentarily basking in the warm feeling that settled inside of her. But this wasn’t the time to be sentimental, she could save that for another time, one where she was preferably alone and not working. She continued to maneuver around, opening and lifting her eyes to gain sight of her target anew. The mop of black hair was about 20 yards in front of her, still moving at a steady pace.

She lifted the camera with care to avoid hurting her already damaged skin even more and held it before her face. Closing her left eye to exclude any form of distraction, her right focused on the tiny image before her. The image was still blurry and after a couple of heartbeats, it became clear, the perfect quality for Emma to press the button. The shutter clicked fast, a set of successive images following quickly, flashing along.

After a quick check of her material and a nod, showing her satisfaction with the results, she let the camera drop again, the device bumping against her stomach a couple of times before steadying and adjusting to her fast steps. He was moving fast so she had to as well.

There were white earbuds dangling from his ears, his head softly bobbing along to the beat of the song reverberating in his ears. He was entranced in his own little world, with a personal soundtrack to which he moved and acted and that drowned out the bustle of the city.

She was curious about what he was listening to, what music was worthy of the honor of being added to his playlist and blasted into his ears every morning. Was he a rock listener? Classical music connoisseur? Did he have a penchant for sappy love songs à la Ed Sheeran that he would then emotionally sing along to? Was he as original in creating his playlists as the buskers that were scattered in subway stations and on street corners? Emma supposed it wouldn’t take her too long to figure it out, to figure him out, all the way to the final details of his being and character.

For not being a people person, she prided herself on being able to read people quite well.

The spring sun shone brightly and without encumbrance, hitting her skin directly and causing small beads of sweat to gather at her temples and a thin layer on her upper lip, which Emma rapidly wiped away. The clothes she was wearing—a thick woolen sweater and jeans—were unfit for this weather. It was as though it were the heart of August and not the blossoming beginning of April in a country where winter had only just ceded its powers. Emma wished—fervently—she had known that this morning. She also wished she had thought about layers. Their power could not be underestimated. They were the way of life here.

But the white fabric stuck to her skin, the sweat not helping at all, and slowed her movements down as she attempted to quicken her pace. She was losing track of the nape, the mess of hair she was pursuing. The stress found its way to her head, making Emma’s heart pick up pace as well. Her steps quickened on the concrete, the tap tap occasionally interrupted by a rasp of shoes on the underground when she turned a sharp corner and braked. Her steady breathing was turning into a pant, proving to Emma it was definitely time to renew her gym membership. Being a PI might be less physical and consist of less running, fighting, avoiding danger etc. than a bail bonds person's curriculum but that did not mean she was allowed to slouch. Not if she was doing this.

She squeezed herself between a group of tourists, much to the dismay of said tourists who indignantly addressed her in Spanish. Not that she would understand what words they were using in their complaints, her high school Spanish had withered to a dead plant after not being watered and nourished for years. Emma hastened to reach the leader, using the woman’s Spanish flag as a guide to reach the end of the troop and to be able to pass her. With her camera clutched tightly, held close to not bestow any additional hindrance, she zigzagged, ducking and swerving as she seemed fit. After a minute or so—though it felt like a lifetime—she re-emerged from the group, some more Spanish thrown her way, frantically looking for him.

Shit, where did he go?

While before it was like a ray of light lit him up, pointing out where he walked in the crowd, now there was only darkness. An unlit maze without any sort of red thread, a challenge she had no idea how to tackle. The metaphorical target on his back had vanished. Hundreds of dark-haired people, dozens of earbuds, not the one Emma needed.

She needed him, with his leather bag, the pirate necklace around his neck, the tattoo on his right upper arm, with those elven ears Emma was so fascinated by but would never admit to anyone that she was.

What was he doing?

Right, three streets, right again, left until the lights.

That was what the GPS embedded into her brain told her was his route; that was what he always did on Saturday afternoon.

So why wasn’t he standing before the red glowing traffic light?

He had a routine he followed almost meticulously. A creature of extreme habit, that was what he was. Emma had to buy herself a watch to be able to know what time it was at every second and not have to bother with retrieving her phone from her pocket every time, losing precious seconds. She used the simple watch on her wrist to follow his movements, needed it on every occasion. There were not a lot of people she had met before who were this exact, who left their apartment when the clock stroke precisely eight, who re-entered their apartment at 17:23 time and time again, regardless of the weather, day or season.

This was not like him.

Emma peered over her shoulder as she took a right, the sudden movement making her hair whip, attempting to look through the masses to double check if he surely hadn’t taken the left turn like usual, but there was no trace of him. Or his unique ears.

Right as she turned her head back, in what felt like a blink of an eye, there was something right in front of her. Someone. Emma attempted to decelerate and stop but the distance was too small to do so, her body still in motion. She braced for the shock, the crash of two moving objects together, her body meeting another solid mass and flinched to prepare for the pain to hit her but there were two hands that softened the blow, that settled on both of her upper arms, one warm and one cold.

Emma didn’t dare to open her eyes, eyelids still squeezed shut. Until the someone she almost hit, but didn’t because they were paying attention while she was focused on other things, cleared their throat, an attempt to capture Emma’s attention and most likely to prompt her to open her eyes again instead of standing there like a scared little child.

Biting the inside of her lip, Emma slowly peeled her eyes open, letting them first adjust to the light again and then scan her direct surroundings. She was staring at a chest. A man’s chest. There were earbuds dangling from his grey Henley, a trace of chest hair peeking out the top and a silver chain around his neck. An odd feeling of apprehension plagued her, heartbeat lodged in her throat, as her eyes hesitantly traveled upwards, in search of a face, of some point of recognition who this mysterious stranger-slash-savior was.

Blue eyes stared into hers.

Familiar blue eyes.

“Can I help you, lass?” he asked and while this was the first time she had heard him speak, the cadence, the accent, the voice—his voice—felt familiar. As if she’d spent hours upon hours listening to it, talking to him. She could almost imagine how his voice would sound in a laugh, how it would change when he was tired, the accent thick and present, how it would caress in a whisper.

It felt as if she knew him.

Which she did.

But also didn’t.

Because this was Killian Jones.

The man she was hired to spy on.

The man who was holding her and staring at her with expectant eyes.

Fuck.

——————————

For the next couple of months, you can expect an update every Thursday! I hope you enjoyed!

#cs ff #csbb #captain swan #captain swan big bang #cs au #my words and sentences #AMHoG

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platypus-quacks-too · 6 years

Note

Hi! First of all I love all your gif sets and your little fics I don't have a Tb but I've been following your work..you see just today I read a fic about Amy getting pregnant on their 1st time and Sheldon reacts badly, it was actually good but I realized Ive never read a fanfic on this subject where He reacts in a good way I just wish for a happy and sweet fic where they get pregnant the 1st time and Sheldon isn't a jerk about it. Hope your taking request is the first I have the courage to ask😝

Note: I owe you, my sweet anon, deep and heartfelt apologies. It took me so long to get to your request, and I ended up not really fulfilling it. Because I’m dumb, I spent all these weeks reading the wrong thing, thus I understood ‘getting pregnant for the first time’ instead of ‘on their first time’. Thankfully, my friend @bigbangenthusiast received the same prompt (was it you again? Geez, now I feel even more guilty to have left you hanging so long :( ). You can find her version here (No need to say, but it’s probably ten times better than whatever I could have done, ‘cause she’s great). Anyway, I eventually continued with the ‘getting pregnant for the first time’plot. The result is below, and yes, it’s extremely fluffy and sappy. I hope you will enjoy it just the same!

Leaning against the car door, Amy closes her eyes for a moment and takes a deep breathe. A shy smile finally shows up on her lips as she recalls her latest visit to the doctor and the confirmation that indeed she is pregnant.

Her hand moves on her belly and she gently strokes the spot in a silent greeting to her baby. For now, she’s the only one except the doctor to know about it. After the last time, she has not yet had the courage to tell Sheldon. With an over 99% average percentage of accuracy, they had been pretty unfortunate in bumping into the one pregnancy test that gave them a false positive. Sheldon wouldn’t have admitted it, but she read the sadness and disappointment in learning that instead there was no baby on the way. She had to hold back tears herself that day, and the day after that, and everyday ever since as their attempts to become parents continue to be unsuccessful and any sort of doubts crowded her mind.

Walking toward home, Amy starts to be afraid she won’t have the strength to tell Sheldon right away, or at least in a manner that immediately reassures him that this time it is true. She can’t just throw the analysis results at his face.

She takes a few steps and finds her answer right in front of her. She smiles as she looks through the windows of the card shop and a silly idea comes up to her.

“Hello,” Sheldon welcomes her once home, “How was your day?”

Amy looks back at her husband with a kind smile. Oh, a great day indeed. She almost bits her tongue to prevent herself to spill the beans on the spot.

“Everything’s okay,” Amy answers, “I- I have something for you,” she announces. She resolutely steps toward the couch and hands him a card.

“Happy Father’s day?” Sheldon reads out loud. “I don’t understand. That’s three months late. Is that for your father?” he asks puzzled.

She jumps on the trail he’s accidentally granted her, “No, it’s not for my dad, and yes, I am late for this year. I am in advance for next year, I guess.”

“Uh? I am not your father,” Sheldon asserts.

Amy can’t help it and grins. “Well, clearly,” she agrees.

“I am not either a father at all,” he continues, “Well, if we don’t consider Fun with Flags, and the avocado plant I left to Leonard.”

Amy tentatively steps closer to him. “I wasn’t thinking of them actually, but sure. There’s also someone else whose father you are, however.” She smiles wide, and Sheldon thinks she’s never been more beautiful, “Open the card.”

Sheldon shrugs and quickly obeys. He finds a piece of paper folded up into the card. Intrigued, he opens it to see what it is.

“Huntington Hospital… Mrs. Fowler,” he skims the document, eager to understand and lowkey scared something is wrong ever since he’s understood is a medical report… until his eyes meet that single word that changes everything.

Pregnant.

“You- You…” Sheldon falters as he reads the line again and again. At this point, he’s not sure he can really trust his eyes. He eventually looks up to Amy.

“Sixth week. The doctor said everything is going on fine. We are both healthy,” she informs him. “I am so sorry I didn’t tell you before. I- I wanted to be sure this time, you know…” she then apologizes and averts her gaze.

When she turns her eyes upon him again, he has stood up and is right in front of her. Before she can utter anything, his lips crash on hers. A moment later, Amy doesn’t felt the ground beneath her feet anymore. Sheldon has lifted her up, holding her tight, and it’s only when she lands back on her spot that she realizes he has actually given her a twirl.

He keeps holding her, resting his forehead on her own. “Have you just made me fly around?” Amy asks grinning against his face. Sheldon however frowns, “I- I am sorry, should I not have done that?” He has never had the urge before of doing something like that. Still it felt so right the moment he did so. It was even fun.

“It’s okay,” Amy reassures him, “I liked it.”

Sheldon feels relieved. “Good. Can I do it again then?” he asks. As soon as Amy nods, he grabs her again and they make another twirl, while the sound of her laughter fills the air. He doesn’t remember having heard a happier sound in all his life.

He holds her face with both hands, gently stroking her cheeks. The laughs gave way to a dense silence. Sheldon stares at her as his mind wraps around the idea of becoming parents.

It’s a girl, he’s sure. No discussion. He sees their baby girl with big shiny eyes. He sees long brown curls, and hears a crystal joyful laugh. He smells flowers and baby powder. He sees Amy clutching her, brushing her hair, singing the well-reassuring words of some lullaby to put her to sleep. He kisses Amy again, and she feels his tears streaming down.

When they detach, Amy wipes away some of those. “I- I am so happy, that’s it,” he feels compelled to justify.

“I know. I am too,” she agrees. “To be honest, I still actually can’t believe it. We have been trying for so long, and nothing happened. We thought it was done, and yet it wasn’t. I- I was starting to believe there was, you know, something wrong….”

As the weight of her fears leaves her chest, Amy’s eyes grow damp as well. Now it’s Sheldon turn to kiss tears away.

He looks down to her belly, and puts her hand on there. “Well, it’s here now. We just have to wait for this little one to show up,” he says. Amy nods before another kiss.

He wraps her in a hug. She rests against his chest, and he nuzzles in her hair. As tears continue to roll down from both, large smiles takes their place at the same time.

#The Big Bang Theory #shamy #shamy fanfic #fanfictions #prompts #lu writes

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