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roostersmustache · 4 months

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Songs of Silence, One

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Author's Note: Hello guys! This is totally different, as most of you are used to my Rooster fics! But, I've gotta be honest. I've been a Loki fan far longer than I've been a Bradley Bradshaw fan, and with season two of Loki out and about (I've watched it three times), I'm hyper fixating on the God of Mischief right now! So, I hope you guys enjoy, and I hope I can reach some more Loki fans out there!

Synopsis: Ingrid was born the goddess of song. Her voice was unmatched in talent. When using her voice one evening, her voice suddenly leaves her, leaving her completely mute. Seeking out help in finding her voice, she's led to a fortune teller, who offers her more than she initially bargained for.

Warnings: None of this is accurate, Swearing, adult themes, angst, possible MCU spoilers, possible Loki spoilers.

Word Count: 5.4k

Masterlist

Being born a goddess in Asgard came with lots of fabulous parties, countless gowns and jewels, and lots of mingling with the other Gods and Goddesses Asgard housed. Ingrid had been born the goddess of song, her musicality bringing peace and prosperity to Asgardians. She could heal broken hearts with her songs, put one to sleep with her songs, and compel those to her will with her songs.

She was a kind and beautiful goddess, her name even meaning "beautiful woman." Because of her kindness, she never used her compelling voice to lure those to their deaths, or have them do as she pleased. She only used her voice for good, and it brought so much harmony to Asgard.

Her talent was unmatched on every level, and Asgardians were willing to pay her thousands to teach their offspring even a sliver of what it meant to sing like her.

But she never shared the secrets of her voice.

There weren't any secrets to be shared. She was born with her gift, and never had to work to make it better. It was the epitome of a perfect voice.

So perfect that many wanted it for themselves.

Ingrid had to be cautious of who she trusted enough to get close to her. The wrong person with the right spell could take her voice from her. While no such spell was easy, magic was a well practiced craft in Asgard, and someone highly skilled in magic could, with the right research, take her voice from her.

Her talent was mystical, and she most often used it for healing purposes. For example, when a family member passed away, people would come to her and ask for a song to ease their pain. She had a way of letting the spirits sing through her, and her songs were able to make grief easier.

Ingrid was the youngest of the Gods. She was only nineteen in Midgardian years, the sons of Odin beating her by a miniscule two years.

Ingrid lived in the castle, and she saw the royals as her second family. When she was a young girl, her parents, also Gods, were killed by the Dark Elves, so she was left orphaned. Odin and Frigga took her in, and she grew up alongside Thor and Loki.

She grew up knowing her and Thor were to be married once she reached the age of twenty. Her and Thor had grew up close, but she knew, deep down, she'd never be able to love him like she was supposed to. They say everyone has their person, and she knew Thor wasn't hers. She did love him, just in a friendly way. But she knew she'd have to bear his children, so she tried to be attracted to him, but it never worked the way it was supposed to.

"You look beautiful today, my darling," Thor said as Ingrid grabbed his arm.

They were headed to a feast to celebrate their marriage, as the wedding was set to be a month away.

"Thank you, Thor," she replied, smiling at him.

When the couple entered the grand dining room, they were greeted by cheers from all the Asgardian people in attendance. Ingrid smiled, waving at her friends, and following Thor before the two took a seat at the head of the table.

"Thank you, to all my lovely people," Thor boomed, the room going quiet. "And thank you," he started, gazing over to his fiance. "To my beautiful bride-to-be for everything. I'm the luckiest man in the nine realms to get to marry you."

Everyone at the table swooned, Ingrid looking over and giving Thor a smile. He raised his glass and everyone followed suit, a toast in order.

"To love!" Thor cheered.

"To love!" Everyone else cheered.

Ingrid just raised her glass, she didn't say anything else. A part of her mourned the fact that she'd never be able to find her true love. She only hoped that one day her heart would come to love Thor the way that a lover should.

She took leisurely sips of her wine, laughing at someones joke every once and awhile. She loved the people of Asgard, and she knew it was the highest honor to become their queen, but her heart longed to love. It longed to be loved by an all consuming love, one that challenged her and thrilled her, excited her in ways she never even knew possible.

But she'd never get the chance to find it.

"What about a song from the lady?" A man said, standing up and motioning his glass towards Ingrid.

"Oh," she stuttered, caught off guard by the request.

"Yes," another man piped up. "A song from the goddess to bless her marriage!"

"I mean," she blushed. "I don't have anything prepared."

"What could the goddess of song not have prepared? Sing us something!" Another man boomed.

"I don't know, I mean, I don't really think I have it in me to sing right now," she sheepishly replied.

"Oh come on, darling," Thor smiled. "Sing us something."

"I don't really want to," she said to Thor, giving him a tight smile.

Ingrid never liked to be put on the spot, and Thor knew that. But she also couldn't deal with disappointing people, so saying no wasn't something she was good at. Thor also knew this.

"Aw how come?" Thor boomed, obviously a bit drunk, as he smiled down at her. "Bless us and our marriage with a song!"

"I don't- Thor, I didn't prepare to sing anything," she said, silently pleading with him to let it go.

"You're the goddess of song," he emphasized. "You don't need to prepare anything," he smiled.

Ingrid often had anxiety around being put on the spot, as she liked to have a sort of mental preparation. Ingrid suffered from a severe case of PTSD, which contributed to her severe anxiety.

When she lost her parents, she was ten years old. She watched as the dark elves stormed into her home and brutally murdered both of her parents in front of her. They only missed her because she hid in her parents closet.

The images of her parents being killed stayed with her, haunting her.

It's safe to say her anxiety was prominent in her life.

"Thor," she started whispering. "Everyone is looking at me, I don't think I should sing right now."

"C'mon darling, everyone loves your voice! I mean look at them," Thor said, gesturing to the group of people in the dining room, looking excitedly at their goddess of song.

"I don't want to," she said.

"Ingrid, you're the goddess of song, I don't understand-"

"The lady said she didn't want to sing, therefore she won't," a voice said from the back of the dining hall.

The voice in question came from none other than Thor's brother, Loki. Ingrid and Loki had always gotten along. He understood her traumas, since he had found out he was adopted a couple years back.

Her and Loki had grown up never too close, but never distant either. They would often just sit with each other and read in the library. He always kept to himself, but he always tried to be out of his brothers shadow as well. Ingrid had always found Loki fascinating, his magic so strong yet himself so quiet. But when he did have something to say, it was always well worded and intelligent.

When Loki spoke up, the entire dining hall went silent, and all eyes gazed to him. He was dressed in his more casual Asgardian leather, yet nevertheless eye catching. His hair was slicked back as it always was, his black curls resting on his shoulders.

"Ah, brother!" Thor announced. "How wonderful of you to join us!"

"How could I ever miss such an occasion?" He sarcastically remarked, his hand landing over his heart.

As he walked to the table to take a seat, he made eye contact with Ingrid, who mouthed a 'thank you' to him. He just nodded and smiled back at her.

The rest of the party went on as they all do; they ate, Thor and his friends had too many beers to count, and the others mingled together. Ingrid felt overwhelmed by the noise and commotion in the room, so she wandered out to the garden. The gardens were her favorite place in the castle, the flowers and plants always having a way of soothing her. Freyr always did wonders for the gardens.

Her favorite was the Dreamshade plant, an Asgard specialty. It was beautiful when it bloomed. Next to the Dreamshade plot of the garden was a beautiful wooden, white swing next to it, hung by a tree. Ingrid would often find herself out there reading.

She sat down on the swing and started to rock back and forth. She sipped on the wine she had carried with her, the liquid making her warm with each sip she took. The breeze encapsulated her, sending a chill down her spine.

She heard the boom of Thor's laughter from inside and took another swig of her wine. She was supposed to be Asgard's blushing bride, they're grateful queen to be. But instead, she's sitting in the garden, away from her own party for her own marriage, fighting back tears. She was orphaned at ten, and months after she had been taken in by the king and queen, she was betrothed to Thor. Her future had been written for her before she was old enough to fully harness the concept of true love and marriage.

And she did, she did love Thor. They had grown up together. Just as she loved Loki. But Thor never made her feel the way her friends' partners made them feel. They'd all talk about butterflies, feeling giddy. All she felt was a longing for something she didn't have.

She wished her voice could cure her own sadness.

"Ingrid?" Came the voice of Loki. He had found his way out to her at the gardens, slowly walking up to her as to not wake her.

"Loki," she gasped, breaking out of her trance. She then noticed the tears that had fallen down her face, quickly wiping them away.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, coming to sit next to her.

"I don't know," she said. "I didn't even realize I was."

"Is everything alright?"

"Nothings alright," she whispered. "I just, I feel hopeless and, I don't know. I'm sorry, I've had too much wine," she hiccuped.

"It's okay, we've all had too much wine," he grinned.

"It's good wine."

"It is indeed."

Her and Loki sat in silence. They let the breeze wash over them, and they let the smell of the flowers consume them. Ingrid was drunk, and she knew this because she felt like she could go up to Thor and tell him she didn't want to get married to him. At the end of the day, she'd never do such a thing, but the fact that it was even a thought she had confirmed the wine had done it's job.

The wine was also making her think things she shouldn't be thinking at all.

Looking over to Loki, she let her eyes wander over his smooth features, and the sharp curve of his jaw. He was sculpted perfectly, and on Midgard, they liked to say handsome men looked like "Greek Gods." Loki wasn't a Greek God, but he was a God.

Ingrid had always had a crush on Loki. He was charismatic yet smart. Funny yet serious, and mischievous at the same time. He always excited her, made her stomach knot when he teased her. He made a blush arise to her cheeks that never appeared for anyone else.

But she never let this crush get the best of her or distract her from what she was supposed to be focused on.

The wine allowed these thoughts to push through, though.

"I don't think," she started. "I don't think I wish to marry Thor."

"What?" Loki asked, his head snapping to her.

"I don't love him like that."

"I don't understand," Loki said, his brow furrowing. "You two have always been in love."

"It's been fake," she said, taking another gulp of her wine. "For me, at least."

"Ingrid-"

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you all of this. I should," she hiccups. "I should get to bed."

As she tries to stand, Ingrid's wine glass falls out of her hands, smashing on the ground. Her legs start to wobble, and before she knows it, she too is falling to the ground. Loki is at her side in an instant, catching her before her head hits the grass.

"Ingrid, darling," he gasped at her. "You've got to be more careful."

"I'm sleepy," is all that she mumbles, her eyes rolling shut.

"Okay," Loki says, hoisting her into his arms. "Lets get you to bed then."

Loki proceeded to carry her out of the garden and around the side of the castle to a side entrance, wanting to keep people from seeing them in this state together to prevent gossip. Through the corridors and up the stairs leading to her room, Ingrid was giggling at random things that she saw.

Once Loki got upstairs to her room, he carried her inside and gently placed her on the bed. She sighed contentedly when she felt her plush covers beneath her, melting into her mattress. She slowly blinked her eyes open, grinning when she noticed Loki looking down at her.

"Comfortable?" He asked.

"Yes," she sighed. "Thank you for bringing me up here."

"Of course."

"Loki?" She piped up, sitting up on her elbows. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he replied, taking a seat on her bed.

"Will everyone despise me if I don't say yes to Thor at the altar?"

She watched as Loki's expression softened, his head tilting to the side. She didn't want to cause a fuss, but she couldn't see herself living a long and prosperous life with Thor.

"Ingrid," he started. "Where is this coming from? Everyone thinks the two of you are in love."

"I've never gotten to explore any romantic interests of any kind because i've always been promised to him. But I don't love him like that. I've tried, Loki. He's not the one for me."

"I don't know if you have much of a choice, darling," Loki says, his lips flattening into a disappointed straight line. "What Odin wants, Odin gets."

"He's not the one that I want," she whispered, staring at Loki intently.

His brows furrowed and then relaxed again. Ingrid knew that her remark was suggestive, and would definitely be something she regretted saying the following afternoon. But as per the wine, it felt very appropriate to say.

"I suppose if your suitor of choice is as high of rank as a God to be king, Odin might not have as many complaints."

"He's something like that," she sighed.

Loki began to respond to her, but he was stopped by two sharp knocks on her door. She gave Loki a puzzled look, and he gave her a puzzled look back, neither one of them knowing who could be at the door.

Loki stood and went to the door to open it, and when he did, it was revealed to be Thor on the other side. Loki moved aside to let his brother in, and Thor's eyes immediately went to Ingrid.

"There you are, darling. Are you alright?"

"Yes, just sleepy," she replied, her eyes blinking slowly.

"Why did you escort my lady to her bed chambers without letting me know?" Thor asked, turning to his brother who stood silently in the corner.

"Because she was passing out in the gardens and I didn't want anyone seeing her in such a vulnerable state," Loki replied.

"Passing out in the gardens?" Thor said, whipping around to look at his bride lying on the bed, still in her evening gown.

"I've had a bit too much wine," she said, pinching her fingers in the air as an example of how much wine she's had.

"Why did you even leave to the gardens in the first place?" Thor asks.

"It was loud," she sighs.

"I'm sorry, darling. I know me and my friends can be loud at times."

"Very loud," she annunciated.

Ingrid pushed herself up off of her bed and stumbled into her closet and grabbed one of her silk nightgowns, walking back out and throwing it down on her bed. She started undoing the pins in her hair, feeling immediate relief at the release of tension in her head. The two brothers stood there watching her, and she stopped her motions to give them both a quizzical look.

"What?" She asked. "Have neither of you seen a lady get ready for bed?"

They both stuttered out sorries as they started to exit the room. Thor crossed over to Ingrid and kissed her cheek, whispering a goodnight to her. She caught Loki's eye by her door, and she gave him a small smile. He nodded back to her. The two brothers exited her room, and once she heard the door click she brushed her dress off of her shoulders.

Once she was ready, Ingrid slipped under her covers. She could still feel the alcohol coursing through her veins.

Before her parents passed away, her mother would sing her a song before bed every night. It stuck with her, and sometimes the goddess would sing it to herself before bed, just to imagine her mother there with her. Tonight was one of those nights.

Ingrid felt helpless, her marriage to Thor was rapidly approaching, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She needed her mothers advice more than anything. So Ingrid sang her song.

Nuku, nuku nurmilintu, Väsy, väsy, västäräkki Nuku nurmelle hyvälle Vaivu maalle valkialle. Lintu tuopi liinahapaijan Haapana hyvän hamehen Kaskeloinen korvatyynyn Pääskynen peäalusen Nuku, nuku nurmilintu Väsy, väsy, västäräkki Nuku nurmelle hyvälle Vaivu maalle valkialle.

Ingrid sang her song louder than she's ever sang it before. Usually she would sing it as a whisper, only to keep for herself. But she felt (probably because of the wine) that everyone needed to hear it. And everyone did hear it. Everyone in Asgard heard their goddesses song, and they heard the pain and longing in her voice as she sang. It was vulnerable, and it was beautiful.

And it lulled her and the entire kingdom to sleep.

Ingrid woke the next morning to being shook by her shoulders.

As she opened her eyes, she saw Thor, Frigga, Loki, and a few castle healers surrounding her on her bed. Thor was shaking her awake, concern written all over his face. Everyone looked worried, and Ingrid looked quizzically back at them.

"What?" She asked, worried as to why everyone was so concerned about her.

"Ingrid," Thor said. "Ingrid, are you alright? We've been trying to wake you for an hour. It's one in the afternoon."

Ingrid shot up at that, looking to her clock to confirm the time. She had never slept that long. Wine wouldn't do that to her either, as she's had her fair share of drunken nights far worse than the one she had last night.

"I'm sorry, I'm not sure why I did that," she said, but the people surrounding her just looked more confused.

"Ingrid, darling, what are you saying?" Frigga asked, taking a step closer to her."

"I'm asking-," She started, but she realized that not a single sound was coming out. "Can you not hear me?"

"Darling, we can't hear you," Thor said. "You're just moving your mouth."

All of the blood drained from Ingrid's face as it hit her all at once.

Her song.

She sang her lullaby last night in a very drunk and vulnerable state, making her an easy target. And she was loud. Everyone in the kingdom heard her sing. And someone had done the one thing she had feared.

They had taken her voice.

As soon as it clicked in her mind, her eyes locked to Loki's, and she could tell that he had made the same observation.

"Someone took her voice," he stated, his eyes never leaving hers.

"That's impossible," Thor said, standing up.

"Oh no, it's quite possible, brother," Loki stated, his hands clasped behind his back. "A strong sorcerer heard her song last night, and the vulnerability behind it, and used the right spell. Her voice is gone."

"That cannot be!" Thor boomed, pacing around the room. "Who dare strip my bride of her Godly power?"

"Thor," Frigga said, walking over and comforting her son. "Whoever did this to dear Ingrid will be punished. We will find them."

"What are we supposed to do, mother? She's a goddess, and she's lost her ability. People need her," Thor said.

"She is more than just her gift, my son. She will help her people in incredible ways without her voice."

"Mother, she is the goddess of song. Not the goddess of kindness. She is not a goddess without her voice," Thor stated, blankly.

To hear Thor say this about her, in her bedroom, made her mouth run dry. It was as if she wasn't in the room to him. It was hurtful, and she had never heard Thor speak of her in this way.

"Thor," Frigga scolded. "You know better than that."

"She is not worthy of Asgard's throne if she cannot serve her people like she so promised!" He yelled.

The room fell silent, and Ingrid drew her knees up to her chest to hug them, tears freely falling from her eyes. The only thing that could be heard throughout the room were Ingrid's quiet sniffles, and everyones eyes turned to her when they started.

Thor's eyes immediately softened when he met her teary ones, guilt racing across his face.

"Ingrid, my darling," he started, walking up to her. "I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry-"

But he was cut off by Ingrid's hand shooting up to stop him. He bounced back, hurt flashing across his eyes.

"Ingrid," he pleaded.

She shook her head in response, as no sound would leave her vocals.

"You should go," Frigga said.

"Mother," he said, looking over to Frigga.

"No, Thor. You've done enough damage, it's best for you to go."

With a sigh, and one last regretful look at Ingrid, Thor walked out of her room. Once he left, Ingrid's shoulders started to heave, sobs wracking through her body. She had just woken up, and it was so much to process. She hadn't even gotten the chance to full realize her voice had been stolen from her before the man she considered one of her best friends and was supposed to marry started hurling insults about her in her own bedroom.

Frigga sat down on her bed and pulled her into her. She combed through her hair and whispered sweet words to her to calm her down. Frigga was the closest thing Ingrid had to a mother, and she made her feel better when she needed a mom.

"We will overcome this, my darling," Frigga said. "We'll find whoever took your voice from you. You are no less of a goddess this morning than you were last night. I'm truly sorry for my sons words."

"It's okay," Ingrid said, or tried to say. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks, and just nodded back at Frigga instead.

"Loki," Frigga said, motioning for her other son. "Why don't you entertain our girl with some of your magic? Or perhaps a card game? You two used to love to play together."

Loki gave his mother a small smile and nodded his head at her.

"Of course, mother," he replied.

"Thank you, my boy. She is in need of a friend."

Frigga exited the room, along with the healers, leaving Ingrid alone with Loki. She sighed before looking at him, his eyes swiftly meeting hers. The silence was uncomfortable. There were so many things she wanted to say to him. She wanted to apologize for her actions and words last night, she wanted to confide in him about her tumultuous love life, and she wanted to tell him he was the one that she wanted. But everything would have to be left unsaid.

When they were children, Loki would often put on 'magic shows' for Ingrid. Once, Odin asked for one, and Loki told his father that they were 'only for Ingrid.' His magic entertained her, and he knew this, so each time he'd put on a show for her, he made sure he was showing his favorite tricks.

"So," Loki started, carefully taking a seat next to her on the bed. "I've been working on a new trick."

Ingrid sat up a bit at that, her interest showing. Loki took this as her go ahead.

He raised his hand in the air, palm face up, and mini fireworks started coming out of thin air in the palm of his hand. Ingrid let a smile grace her features, a laugh wanting to escape her so badly.

"It's nothing huge," the God said. "But it's pretty."

Ingrid nodded her head at him, her smile widening. He let out an airy laugh, smiling back at her. He closed his hand, making the fireworks disappear. Ingrid let her smile settle, and his did too. She felt his hand creep to hers, grabbing it in his large hand and giving it a squeeze. Loki's hands were soft. Silky smooth. Just like his voice. Ingrid looked down at their hands, and then looked back to him, her gaze questioning.

"I'm sorry for what my brother said," he started, his gaze soft upon her. "And I'm sorry for the predicament you're in."

Her gaze hardened, a blush forming on her cheeks. She had hoped she had dreamt about telling Loki about her true desires regarding her marriage, but it was evident she had confided in him.

"I've not forgotten our little talk last night," he confirmed, making the girl look away from him. "And I want to help you. I know how it feels to be burdened with something you don't want."

"How can you help?" Ingrid so badly wanted to ask. She wasn't used to not having her voice, and she didn't like it.

"And I'm sorry that you lost your voice," he continued. "You're still a goddess, Ingrid. You always will be. No one can strip you of that."

She gave him a faint smile in return, squeezing his hand back. His hands were ice cold, yet she didn't shiver away from his touch. In fact, she wanted more of his touch. Loki had always brought her comfort, but her hand in his gave her a sense of being grounded no touch had ever given her before.

Everyone knew Loki and Ingrid had a connection deeper than they understood. Loki had never been one to open up, but he had always told Ingrid everything. She too, told him her deepest secrets. They had both seen each other in their most vulnerable states, therefore creating a bond no one could understand.

She had always had feelings for the prince, but she felt naughty when she thought of acting on them. After all, she was engaged to his brother, the future king. She should be fawning over Thor, the future king of Asgard. But instead, Ingrid often found herself lusting over Loki in the shadows.

"Ingrid," Loki's voice said, but this time in her head, his silky voice sending chills down her spine. She gave him a startled look, his telepathic abilities something she wasn't used to. "You can speak back," he continued.

"This is oddly frightening," she said back, not really sure if he could hear her say that or not.

"But now you have someone to speak to," Loki's voice said, confirming he had heard her.

"I can't believe that worked," she said, looking at him wide eyed. They had never communicated telepathically to one another. She knew that he could, but she couldn't. He had obviously made it to where she could communicate back with him. She hoped he couldn't read her mind.

"I can," he said. When she looked at him, mortified, he had a small smirk playing on his lips. "I can hear everything you're thinking."

"Loki stop," she threatened. "I'm more than happy to speak with you because I need it, but I can't have you reading my mind."

"Why? Something naughty you don't want me to know?" He smirked.

Her face heated up, and at the mention of naughty thoughts, images of Loki popped into her head. She quickly willed those thoughts away, her face turning bright red out of fear he saw her thoughts of him.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, grinning at her.

"Loki, get out of my head," she warned.

"But I'm curious as to why you think of me so much," he replied.

If her face wasn't red before, it was cherry red now. She looked at him mortified, and put her head in her hands, shaking it. She was hoping that her actions were enough to get the God out of her head. His laughter rumbled throughout the room as he watched the girl in front of him, clearly in distress.

He moved to sit closer to her on the bed, and her breath hitched. She peeked an eye at him, and she saw him smirking down at her. She was feeling hot, her hands clammy and her forehead sweaty. Loki being this close to her in this state was making her feel fuzzy, and she couldn't tell if she wanted away from him or if she wanted closer to him.

"Who do you desire, my dear?" His voice still in her head, making goosebumps break out all over her body. "Who were you speaking of last night when you said you wanted someone other than Thor?"

"Loki," she said sternly, a warning. If he kept on, she didn't know how long she'd be able to hold her resolve.

"Tell me," he growled, his hand finding purchase on her thigh.

She lightly jumped at the contact, her mouth parting, the air leaving her lungs. She didn't think he felt the same about her, and the realization that he did was both thrilling and terrifying. It excited her because she had always had feelings for him, and it terrified her because of Thor.

"Of course I feel the same, Ingrid," he said, and she took in a sharp breath of air. "How could I not?"

"Because I'm marrying Thor," she said.

"I don't care. You clearly don't want to marry him."

She was at a loss for words, literally and figuratively. Loki was her greatest friend, and she worried what this would do to their relationship. She didn't know how they would go forward. She was to be married in a month and that terrified her.

"This is not how I expected my day to go," she said to him.

"Mine either," Loki chuckled, this time out loud. "I should let you rest, dear. I'm going to assist Odin in finding who stole your voice."

She just nodded at him as he stood up off the bed. She bent back down, however, caging Ingrid in between his arms, causing her to lean back onto her elbows. Her heart was thumping in her chest, and he smirked back at her. One of his hands came up and settled under her jaw, cupping her cheek. She instinctively leaned into his touch, her cheeks bright red again. He leaned forward and took his thumb across her lips, huffing out a laugh as her lips parted.

"Don't think I'll forget this talk," he drawled, his voice deep and smooth like chocolate.

She nodded back at him, swallowing the lump in her throat. He pulled her forward by the neck, and she stopped breathing as she expected his lips upon hers, her eyes fluttering shut. But instead of his lips finding hers, she felt them firmly press on her forehead.

"See you later, darling," he smirked, pulling away from her and laughing as she sat on the bed dazed and wide eyed.

She watched as he sauntered out of her room, and she let out the breath she had been holding. Her hand found her chest, and she placed it there as she slowed her rapid heartbeat. She flopped back on her bed, a small smile forming on her lips.

Maybe this month wouldn't be so bad after all.

A/N: Yaaas! It's done! Lemme know what you think! Definitely more parts to come! As always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series!

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thefandomdirtymind · 4 months

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Christmas traditions

Disclaim : It's a Alternative Universe version of Taz who never decided to actually became an actor and just decided to write play. It had been inspired by that adorable video and a post I saw saying that we should put Taz in a Rom-Com so well I did loll I hope you will like it and a merry Holiday season !

Taz AU

Sanji / OPLA Masterlist and Coming Soon

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

---

The holidays, like every year, were illuminating with his colorful light and magical decorations the streets of London. From the shopping district of Carnaby street to the Buckingham palace itself, the capital was ready to celebrate.

In a more modest corner of the city, where the cold wind of december was also making known his presence. Taz was burying his hands in the pocket of his jacket, his destination, a small theater stuck in a sandwich between an indie coffee shop and a vinyl seller, already in his field of view.

Waiting in line for the opening of the door, many adults and childrens were braving the winter weather, a small paper cup of hot beverage in most hands. When two teenagers, dressed up in red and green velvet costumes were entertaining the kids.

For months now, Taz had helped his friend Thomas plan this event. Trying to give a wonderful and magical Christmas moment to the less fortunate family, working with charities and organizations to give and share with those childrens a memory they would cherish for the years to come.

Writing a play about a Christmas fairy tale wasn’t usually his cup of tea. But, after much encouragement from his friend and research about christmas folklore, he had finally finished the script, hoping it would put a smile on their small faces.

Pushing the door of the artist entry, the recomforting noise of last minute check up greeting him, Taz smiled. Of course, seeing his play being performed on stage was alway magical, but, the behind the scene and the conception of the magic was also one of his favorite parts.

“ Taz ! You’re just in time, where about to start. Did you see all those families outside ! “ His friend exclaimed, his toddler daughter in his arms, juggling to keep the child comfortable and his clipboard away from any scribbling incident.

“ Yeah, it's amazing man ! It has brought so many people, will you have enough stuff for the kids ? He asked, waving gently to the little girl “ Hello princess Emma “

“ Uncle Z !!” Emma exclaimed, waving his little hand, joy radiating off his little two year old body.

“ I hope so, for the moment everything is under control ” Tom said, turning his head to the side before sighing in relief. “Thank god Y/n had been able to pass the security “

“ Wait Tom. She’s here, why is Y/N here ? “ Taz asked, another type of knock suddenly invading his stomach.

“ She had offered her help to babysit Emma when I was busy on stage, why ? “ Tom replied, watching now his friend with an amused smile on his lips “ Is that about your little crush ? “

“ Dude, I don’t have a crush, I’m not twelve “ He replied, rolling his eyes. “ I just didn’t have much chance to talk to her that all “

“ Well you will tonight, because she and Emma will be seated with you “ The man mischiefly said before agitating his clipboard above his head, signaling their position to the woman. “ Y/N Here ! “

Watching you approach, admiring the simple but cute look you had chosen to wear for the evening, the multiple tones of light of the room accentuating your natural beauty as a small straw of your hair caressed your cheeks. Taz felt his heart miss a beat.

Being shy wasn’t in his usual nature. Yet, when it came to you he often had trouble understanding himself. Since the first time he saw you placing those books, perched in the ladders at Thomas bookstore, he hadn’t been able to forget you. Neither that summons enough courage to tell you more than two words he instantly judged stupid.

“ Hi! i’m sorry to be late, I had some late customers “ You apologize, taking the little girl in your arms “ Hello miss Emma, is that a new dress ? “

Happy of the attention, the little girl nodded proudly, kicking his feet in an attempt of showing her, as well, new little mary-sue shoes.

“ Adorable” You commented, adjusting the child on your arms before meeting the gaze of Taz. “ Hello Taz” You said, a soft smile spreading in your lips.

When Thomas had introduced you, a few months earlier, you weren't sure what to think exactly of his gorgeous friend. You had heard so many stories of crazy adventures they had, before the bookkeeper decided to settle down after he adopted Emma. That you aren’t sure how to react when, to steal the words of your boss, a walking beam of sunshine, was preferring to isolate himself in the small office, that talks to you. Of course he had been polite and you knew perfectly that the man had a job to do, so you had tried to help him as much as you could, bringing him books on winter folklore and often little snacks when you noticed he was still in the office after many hours. But, after a while of two word discussions and half-smile, you had simply deduced that sunshine Taz disliked you.

Until one night, as you were preparing to close the store, your manager asked you the strangest question.

“ Y/N, did Taz talk to you today ? “ He asked, putting the day's money in the bank envelope.

“Other than asking for a book, no, why ? “ You replied. Placing the last book of your pile at his place.

“ Nothing, it’s just kinda funny and refreshing to see him out of words for once” Thomas laugh “ I hope he put them all in that play “

But, by the time you realized the meaning of his words, Taz had finished the script and was passing less time at the bookstore than before.

“ Hi Y/N” The man simply replied, fidgeting like most of the time with one of his rings.

“ Everybody in place, it’s time to open the door ! “ You heard as the gaze of Taz was still lingering in you.

Wishing Thomas to break his leg, you slowly make your way to your seat, trying to focus our attention on the little girl and not your flustered cheeks.

As Taz was trying to focus on the play, his winter fairies and other magical creature taking life before is eyes, he couldn’t entirely stay still, trying to catch of the corner of his eyes the manies expression of joy and magnificence as he could, even if right now, your was by far his favorite.

A smile plastered on your lips,the little girl clapping his hands on your laps, you seem to enjoy as much, if not more, the ferric world in front of you than many of the kids.

When Santa Claus came on stage,to the joy of the kids but signaling the end of the performance and the debut of the other activities, he left out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

As everybody left their seat, taking the direction of the festivity room, he simply followed you, taking one of Emma's little hands as you were holding the others.

“ Congratulations Taz, it was amazing “ You told him, as the little girl in his arms was dancing to the christmas music in the room, putting a tender and amused smile on his lips.

“ Thanks, the book you gave me had helped a lot “ He replied as the child was now contortion herself to be put down.

“ Olin !! Uncle Z down, down !! “ She screamed, surprising Taz as you let out a little laugh.

Putting down Emma, Taz confused, looked her ran to a little boy not much older that three.

“ Ahem, I guess I will have to break the terrible news to you. Our little Emma here is kinda in a terrible scandal you see, she had kissed little Colin on the cheeks at the yesterday reading event. But, last week it had been the little Anthony over there, when he saw it he had claimed on the spot he will marry her, even if rumor said that he had promised the same thing to his own mother. “ You softly laugh, looking at the small childrens dancing all together.

“ I’m truly heart broken” Taz laughed, the usual tension he was feeling around you dissipating slowly under your radiating smile. Of course you had smiled on many occasions before. Yet,maybe it was the situation,or the way you had told the fun little child gossip, but he suddenly felt more relaxed around you. “ It was actually a great story, we should maybe do a play about it ”.

“ Absolutely” You nodded, laughing at your turn. “ I will close the store tomorrow, maybe you can come and we will see what could happen…in that play ?” You softly suggest, hoping that you didn’t misunderstood Thomas.

“ Yes that..that could be great “ Taz replied, clearly surprised before offering you a joyful smile.

“ ncle Z, ncle Z ! “ Emma exclaimed, jumping to attract his attention,trying to catch his hand.” Want to see Santa !”

As the event ended,the two of you weren't able to talk much, between taking care of Emma and helping Thomas with the details. However, as you were putting on your coat, you heard him call for you, the little girl fondly asleep against his shoulder.

“ See you tomorrow then ? “ He asked, that damn pretty smile on his lips.

“ See you tomorrow” You confirmed, smiling as well.

—

The next day, with your flow of customers trying to be ready for Christmas, didn’t give you much time to be nervous about your evening meeting.

However, as you were turning the little Close sign, wishing your last customers a Merry Christmas, the little excitement caught you and gave your smile a little extra spark.

As Taz was stepping in the close little bookstore, you were patiently waiting for him, a winter folklore book in front of you.

“ Hey” He greeted you, smiling, closing the door.

“Hey “ You replied, smiling as well, leaving your seat to meet him at the door. “ I was thinking of all those tradition and folklore you had put in your play and I realize that Thomas was right, you had miss a really important one”

“ Oh ?” Taz asked, watching your smile take that adorable turn he had so often saw when you were joking with Thomas.

“ The mistletoe “ You answer, pointing at the little branch newly installed above the door. “ Of course it's an old and outdated tradition but…”

But, you never finish your thought as the lips of Taz meet yours, his cold hand seizing your waist.

“ I think I should definitely learn more about this one” He softly laugh against your lips

Laughing, you came back for another kiss, ignoring the little snow starting to fall on London, creating your own mini Christmas fairy tale.

#Taz Skylar #Taz Skylar Au #Christmas

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pascaloverx · 5 months

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As It Was (S2)

Chapter Ten

previous season next chapter

Summary: Lots of news in this new season, which will be full of several twists and discussions. And of course, lots of James Buchanan Barnes.

Author's note: Dear readers, I will be writing this fanfic again. This second season will have shorter chapters and it will probably take me a little longer to update the fanfic but I hope you like it!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS STORY, there may be adult content and verbal and physical violence.

Waking up in a hospital bed is much more uncomfortable than it seems. In fact, at first I thought I was dead. But it was when I tried to move and felt a pang in my stomach that I realized I was alive. I don't know how happy or sad this makes me. Someone I believed was good cheated on me, someone I loved died and I have no idea where the hell my ex husband is.

"Thank God you finally woke up, I'm going to call the doctor but try to stay conscious for the next few minutes at least." Dave speaks happily as if he's been yearning for me to wake up.

A few moments later I was so confused that I didn't even notice a team of doctors and nurses entering my room, it was almost as if I were a rare specimen. They are analyzing my every mole, asking standard questions like do I see this or that, do I remember my name, and checking my moles as soon as they enter what appears to be my hospital room.

"Doctor, what happened to me?" I ask, fearing that they are analyzing me because something terrible is about to happen.

"You may be a little confused in the next few days, the shot you took hit your spleen, which resulted in complications in his surgery. You got on induced coma for a while so that we could guarantee a recovery. The exact time you were in a coma was six months. The good news is that your body has fully recovered, without any apparent signs of trauma. For any additional information, you can ask the doctor on duty or the nurse who will be responsible for the care of this ward." The doctor speak so seriously, I feel a little confused with so much information.

"Will I be released soon or will I have to stay here for a long time?" It's the only question I long for the answer.

"We have to keep you here for at least another day for further observations but probably tomorrow, you will be released and you can go home." He speaks subtly with precision. It's a relief knowing that I will soon be able to leave here if everything is okay with me.

Dave enters the hospital room a few seconds after the doctors leave, looking extremely relieved. I really want to hug him but you're afraid to make sudden movements.

"You look like you got hit by a truck but I'm so glad you woke up. Sam and the girls were just as worried as I was, wondering when you would wake up." Dave says sitting in the companion's chair next to my hospital bed.

"How is Bucky?" It's all you can think about, wondering how my ex-husband was, who risked his life because of me.

"You won’t like to know. I think for your recovery, it’s better if you know this later.” Dave says while holding my hand softly.

"I need to know how he's doing Dave. If you consider yourself my best friend, start talking." My authoritative tone must be more powerful now because Dave seems to want to obey me.

"Barnes is working..." Dave sounds so uncertain saying this like he's afraid of my reaction.

"What do you mean, working?" Something inside me says I'm going to get stressed in the next few minutes.

"His father figured that Killian and Rogers would betray him and made a dossier and secretly handed it in before he died. The FBI and national security had no doubts about Barnes' innocence so as soon as he recovered from his injuries, he returned to work. I think he even got promoted." Because this information doesn't surprise you, it reminds you why I ended up ending my relationship with Barnes.

"What a son of a bitch, how can he come back after everything we've been through...what about Rogers and Killian?" This I really hope that one of them is at least arrested.

"Both are on the run from the police, but they disappeared. Which is kind of good news." Dave talks trying to sound optimistic.

"They both have reasons to kill me. Which makes it even worse." Stress slowly eats away at me as I imagine how unbearable my life will be.

"We will be with you and Barnes will also take care of you. Rumor has it that you're going to have cops watching." Dave tries to calm me down, which somehow works.

"I think I'm going to need some time to adapt to this information but I'm glad I'm back." I say, holding Dave's hand tightly as I lie to his face. I'm not happy, I'm desperate. My father died, my ex husband is still the same idiot and there are two cruel men wanting my head. I couldn't be more fucked up.

#bucky barnes x oc #spotify #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes angst #reader insert #steve rogers x original female character #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier series #sam wilson #wanda maximoff #yelena belova #fanfic steve rogers #steve rogers angst

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twilightmalachite · 5 months

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2×2 - Grown-Up Situation 10

Author: Akira

Characters: Yuuta, Hinata, Nagisa, Shinobu

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Tyrant! Yuuta-kun’s tyranny is rapidly accelerating…!"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Downtown

An hour later. At the Living on the Streets starting point for Team Aniki (Hinata & Nagisa)…

Nagisa: Fuhahahahaha!

Now, let us begin, Hinata! Let us build our paradise here!

Hinata: … …

Nagisa: Where is your reply?! Are you mocking me, Hinataaaa?!

Hinata: Don’t wanna~, I don’t like this domineering Ran-senpai~… I want him to go back to being the kind senior he always is~…

But well, Ran-senpai feels more comfortable this way. I adapt better than he does, so in the end it’s better this way.

So that’ll be that. I’ll think about what to do next, not about Ran-senpai’s complete behavior turn-around!

Nagisa: Mm! Great to hear!

Tell me the specifics of what to do. Though it’s really true I only have my clothes, with even my phone and wallet confiscated before starting.

What does one do with nothing to his name? If we continue to do nothing, we will either starve or freeze to death.

Hinata: It is still the cold season, isn’t it? It’s March.

Perhaps… The reason that the producer in charge of this episode, Anzu-san, threw us out into the cold weather was because she wanted us to get sick.

If we catch a cold and can’t continue on, then 2×2 will stop broadcasting.

Making Anzu-san, who is currently with the most viewership ratings, automatically be the winner of the producer showdown!

Nagisa: I do not think Anzu would pull off something so underhanded, like Ibara would.

No, even Ibara wouldn’t pull off such a thing. Having the program be canceled mid-way through would be a massive loss.

Hinata: That’s true~… And well, this is a TV program, so if things get out of hand I bet they’ll just rescue us.

Of course, it’d be a shame to just give up on the first day, so I’d like to make it through living on the streets if possible… Thank you for your cooperation, Ran-senpai.

Nagisa: Mm! Just leave it to me! For I am God!

Hinata: Somehow this seems hopeless… Reminds me of Sakuma-senpai when he’s in poor shape, totally unreliable…

Well, it’s fine. First things first, securing a bed before the sun sets is our top priority.

Like I mentioned earlier, it’s the cold season, so if we don’t have a warm place to sleep, we won’t be able to get through the night.

At worst, we freeze to death. Or catch a cold or something and it’s game over.

Nagisa: That is quite true. Now, what do I do?

Will we be building houses out of cardboard and such, like those I see on the streets from time to time?

Hinata: Cardboard is surprisingly effective at keeping in warmth! I suppose that’s an option, but I think building our own house ourselves seems like it’d be interesting, but…

We’ve filmed the opening sequence for the show and traveled already today, so we don’t have much time before the sun goes down.

We might run out of time while collecting materials for a house or something.

So… I don’t think this is strictly off-limits, but—I have another, slightly more crafty idea in mind.

Nagisa: What’s this crafty method?

Hinata: If anything, it might just be the straightforward approach. How do you think we got through the cold nights, back when we had no strength of our own back then?

The answer is simple. —We were helped by a generous adult.

Location: Back Alley in Downtown

Shinobu: I’ve gathered some cardboard~! ♪

Yuuta: Ooh, as expected of a ninja! Efficient!

Shinobu: Fufufu… Since I’ve been robbed of my ninja identity through my gozaru’s, I must at least show my ninja-ness through my actions!

Yuuta: Just so you know. It’s actually against the law to pick up cardboard and the like from trash piles or to build and inhabit a house on the street without authorization.

Looks like ES has spoken to the town hall and such about that to ensure there isn’t any problem regarding that, though. ‘Course, if they didn’t, we wouldn’t even be able to do this “experience”.

Shinobu: Good children watching this program, don’t do this at home!

Yuuta: You too, grown-ups!

Anyways, the sun will be going down soon, so let’s hurry up and build our cardboard house. It’ll be our bed for the time being.

Shinobu: Right. So what tools did you have, Yuuta-kun?

Yuuta: Hm? W-What do you mean?

Shinobu: I mean, we need tools in order to make things. This isn’t Gunpla or Legos meant for kids; we need tools if we are to assemble any materials.

More specifically, something like a utility knife, or duct tape. We’ll need more substantial tools if we are to build say a wooden structure, but well, we’re just building a house out of cardboard—

Yuuta: Right! We do need tools.

Go collect some, Shinobu-kun. I’ll watch over our cardboard here.

Shinobu: Tyrant! Yuuta-kun’s tyranny is rapidly accelerating…!

Yuuta: Do you have any complaints?

Shinobu: Uu. I-I’ll go and look for something tool-like, then. Though I feel this will be much harder to find than cardboard…

Yuuta: Ah, right, I’ll go with you too, then. I doubt our cardboard boxes will get stolen even if we don’t keep an eye on them.

I don’t want to exploit you too much and have you hate me, Shinobu-kun. Right? Truth is, I lived in this downtown area for a while, so—

I know quite a bit about what’s down where.

Shinobu: T-Then, it would’ve been better if you had come with me to collect materials from the very start!

Yuuta: I had stuff to do, myself. YamadaP had been on-site, so I went to ask him about some things I was concerned about.

Among those involved in 2×2, he’s the one I’m closest to.

Shinobu: Concerned? What, like about how Anzu-dono’s doing?

Yuuta: I am, but… Well, I’ll let you know about it once I organize my thoughts.

But right now, it’s nothing but a suspicion. Or rather, I know once I start suspecting, then everything looks suspicious to me.

Shinobu: …?

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

#2×2 #2x2 #yuuta aoi #hinata aoi #shinobu sengoku #nagisa ran #event #translation

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bengiyo · 2 years

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Make it Right Rewatch Ep 1 Stray Thoughts

I have to do it, y'all. I've watched this like four or five times, but thinking so hard about My Only 12% and New's feelings about Love of Siam has me thinking about Make It Right and how that fits in. This project is fun because Cheewin is also involved. Yuan also ended up working on What the Duck.

It's really something how long teens have been uploading constant streams of their lives to the internet now.

Thailand has always done a good job with sibling dynamics.

Oh it's the lesbian friend. She ends up so disappointed in this show. I think it's interesting how there were nods to gay girls early in Thai BL before it all vanished.

The intro song for Season 1 is still in my top 3 for Thai BL. This song absolutely fucking SLAPS!

I'm feeling a happy sense of nostalgia watching this. I'm a whole adult now with a mortgage and a fancy TV. Thankful to the fans who saved this in 1080p. It still looks good.

Ah, yes, the beauty product placement.

I was definitely drawn to the casual physical intimacy between friends when I first watched this from jump when Fuse sits on Lukmo at school.

Young Ohm. We called it even then that he was a massive talent. Glad he was able to make something out of acting. Feels like most of this cast fell off.

Oh my god the whole scene of getting Fuse out of school to help Jean is still so surreal. New really understands masculine friendship. Helping your boys and risking getting into trouble to save the girl really does feel like this.

Casual reminder that we had more femmes in early Thai BL.

Yes, play the intro over the handshake with Lukmo. I will associate this with maximum friendship for the rest of my life.

It translates very well that Jean and her friends play the field (no shame), and also that Fuse is clearly younger than the older guys maybe more appropriate for her. Covering Fuse in debris also shows how messy and unready he is.

When I first saw this, I thought we were going to see Lukmo present a crush on Fuse when he suggested Fuse date a boy.

Boys chasing each other around snd threatening to fight is also very much high school.

Baby Plan!

Proximity Alert #1 in the first Rodtang scene. I do think we should get more BLs where a boy has feelings for one of the leads, gets disappointed, and ends up with one of their friends.

New teasing about the regimented existence in school and the ways it creates so many gay situations. This CPR class that requires the boys to take off their shirts?

I was always sad about Nine being recast in season 2. Something similar happened in Lovesick.

Where did Frame even get a bra from to put Nine in?

Hey, proximity alert #2. First teasing of Frame and Book.

It still bothers me that these boys are like 15 and getting wasted.

Oh shit, young Mean! I always forget he has a bit role in this show.

Finally, Tee is here. Oh, Boom, how I hoped to see so much more of you.

Ah, I forgot about the coin as the first sign for Tee that he maybe meant something to Fuse.

Oh the drunk acting isn't great, but I'm riding out the drama of, "Oh no. I don't know where be lives. I guess I'll take him home and watch him."

Tee really fireman carried Fuse to bed.

The Death of Junk Food shirt is sending me.

Tee definitely knew what he was doing when he undressed.

"Have you ever had sex with a guy?" immediately followed by the opening melodies of About Last Night. I have never gotten over this song and how effectively it gets used in this show. "Do you want to?" as the music builds and then pauses. "Yes," into the chorus. So good. They don't do it like this anymore.

Welcome back to Make It Right with me! I think instead of making unique posts for this, I'll just continue this as a thread to refer back to later. Much of this really holds up. It's about as good or better than a lot of the pulps of the last year.

#make it right #make it right the series #your local make it right apologist is still not over those boys #thai bl #bl series #Ben watches

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troubleabroad · 2 years

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Under The Sea

This was an action packed day. So put the kettle on, she’s a long read

We woke up surprisingly well rested, and ready to take on the classic sights of dallas. Were staying a just out of the downtown area, so thankfully our dear friends at uber are willing and able to transport us anywhere! We arrived at the Dallas World Aquarium and were excited to see what it had in store for us. Well, what it had in store was a lot of animals in small enclosures, with no information. I’d love to tell you what animals we saw, but i have no idea. There were various birds, fish, frogs, penguins, sloth, a mini deer looking thing, an otter who just swam laps of his fish tank, a dugong that was uneventful & boring penguins. There were a lot of animals, but they all looked pretty grim in such small spaces. It was also weird to go to an aquarium that has so many non-aquarium animals. Not having any information on the animals was an odd choice by the aquarium too. But hey, this is ‘murica, and learnin is for nerds.

We left the aquarium, and were not far from the historic west end of dallas, which is kind of where all the nation is. Bars, eateries, sightseeing etc. Nearby was the very art school museum of illusions. This was much better than the aquarium, thank god. Its basically a giant office space, that has been converted to who a wide array of optical illusions & art. It also had descriptions of what each piece was, take note dallas aquarium! One of the cooler exhibits was the vortex tunnel. Its a tunnel that rotates around you, and you walk through it on a boardwalk. Seems simple and boring enough in practice, but in reality after about 3 steps you feel like you’re going to fall over. It sucks. But kinda cool. After a little while there, and after the kids running like mad got to me, we went off to do sort out sim cards for the trip to make life easier. Thankfully AT&T have their own area in the city. Think of a smaller Fed Square that is owned by telstra. It was a quick and easy set up for the phones, and even better, there’s a pub right next to the store! Best kind of exit via gift shop I’ve experienced!

We had some food and a couple of drinks at Jaxon, maybe not me new favourite, but still great, and planned what else we wanted to accomplish in dallas. One of the major things we need to do is find some sort of clothing store, because this smart, seasoned, well adjusted traveller did not pack enough clothes. 1 pair of shorts & 3 t-shirts will not get me through 5 weeks…. All of that aside though, there was one major attraction that we had to see. THE TEXAS STATE FAIR!! What better time to do the fair than right now! Another uber ride to the fair, and ill tell you this for free, first impression is wild. It’s like the melbourne show on steroids. Really, really good steroids. Not the ball shrinking ones.

The first exhibit we see as were walking in, is a small area that looks like a dirt bike track, instead it was very much not dirt bikes and instead huge Dodge Ram pickup trucks doing jumps and ripping around the track. You better believe we jumped in and had our free ride! Like most people in america, our driver knew where melbourne was. He even pronounced it correctly, so i guess he wasn’t lying! He mentioned that he drives monster trucks so this was just a little bit of fun for him. And what fun it was. Gotta give Dodge credit, it was the perfect advertising for their trucks. I walked away wanting to buy one. We left the adult merry-go-round and had a wander through the fair. Everything you’ve heard about fairs is true. Deep fried everything, ben flowing, rides, oversized food, drink, entertainment, everything is bigger in texas! After such a big meal at Jaxon, we weren’t overly hungry, so were quite content walking around the fair and taking it all in. They had a petting zoo, complete with a porcupine, zebras, bison, and my favourite Kangaroos! there is also a token parade through the fair grounds, complete with a tractor float, various “miss” beauty pageant winners. After all the sights, we regained our appetite, so went to the nearest fried stand to get some food. Funnel cake and deep fried cheesecake should do the trick! Both were equally as sweet and delicious as you could imagine. By this stage we were getting pretty tired, and the festival was winding up. so we made our way, slowly, to the exit to head back home. Across from the state fair were two service stations. One a shell. The other, a very dodgy looking homebred one. I had heard stories of being able to buy alcohol from service, or Gas Stations, so this was the prime opportunity. You better believe we went to the sketchy one! The rumours were true, there is booze everywhere. where we would normally have ice cream fries near the counter, the just had an open top fridge full of ice and individual pint cans of beer. Thankfully in this store, the clerk was behind super thick glass, and all the alcohol fridge doors were locked. It screamed safety plus. With the clerk so far away, and the fridges locked, it would have been hard to buy alcohol. But thankfully this service station has a doorman! Fancy! Im pretty sure the doorman was just a homeless guy that the clerk was paying to basically keep guard if everything went south… We took our 12 pack of white claw, and pint of natty light back to the uber pick up spot, and that’s when my body decided it need to pee, and pee now So bugalugs got the uber back to the hotel and i made a mad dash back into the fair ti find a toilet. Word to the wise, Americans DO NOT like it when a panicked dude runs into a crowded area. Anyway, crisis averted and into an uber i got. The uber driver was well across Australia’s lockdowns, and was chuffed that i “managed to escape”. What we needed when covid hit was this gentleman, because all we need to do was not be scared and believe in our faith, because god will look after us. Safe to assume that this guy did not get his booster shot… Eventually got home after hearing how he was family friends with michael jackson, and had a budding radio career. Not sure what’s on for tomorrow at this stage. We will most likely be pretty knackered after such a big day of doing things. But that’s part of the fun!

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dailyaudiobible · 2 years

Text

09/25/2022 DAB Transcript

Isaiah 45:11-48:11, Ephesians 4:1-16, Psalms 68:19-35, Proverbs 24:3-4

Today is September 25th welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is great to be here with you today as we do what we do at the beginning of every week. We consider that this week is out in front of us and it's brand-new. And we do this at the beginning of most of our weeks just as a mental reset. Like, yeah, time just kinda keeps going on and we mark the days, but this is the beginning of a new week, a span of time that we will live into, and we have all kinds of choices that we will have to make during this week. Just kinda resetting and realizing it's all on in front of us right now helps us to understand that His mercies are new every morning and every week. And, so, just exhale what is in the past and now and look forward to what is before us is always a good thing because the week is waiting to be lived. And it's shiny and new and waiting for us to write our story upon it. And we can trash the place. Like we certainly can. We can take this beautiful new week that’s out in front of us and trash it or we can make it more beautiful than the week before. Let's do the latter. And part of the way that we do this is show up every day around the Global Campfire and take the next step forward in the Scriptures, allowing them to work within us and transform us. And, so, this brand-new shiny sparkly week we will read from the Good News Translation. And certainly, picking up right where we left off yesterday will lead us back into the book of Isaiah. Today chapter 45 verse 11 through 48 verse 11.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for this brand-new sparkly shiny week that You have provided for us, and we acknowledge that. You have provided it for us. Your mercies were new this morning, and You provided this day for us. What we make of this day, I guess, is whether or not we choose to be aware of Your presence and available to collaborate in Your work in this world. How we write the story of this week as we were talking about at the beginning is our story to tell but You have provided it for us, life this week. May we live it deeply, truthfully, honorably and loyally before You. May we acknowledge You in all things. May we humble ourselves before You and choose what You are leading as opposed to whatever it is that catches our eye that we’re chasing after. May we chase after You. And Holy Spirit, we invite You into this week and ask that You lead and direct us not only in the practical decisions of our lives, but also lead us deeper into Jesus, deeper into our understanding of the Scriptures, we pray. In the name of Jesus’ we ask. Amen.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi Daily Audio Bible family this is Renzo in Florida. I just ask for some prayers. I'm going into like a new season of my life. I'm about ready to end high school next year in May, next may that's coming and I’m really just…what God has called me to do is reach…reach people with the gospel through Christian rap music. And I just ask for prayers that God just uses me through that and uses me to spread his name. And I ask if you could keep me in prayers because…to be more consistent in making music to honor His name and also just honoring Him with everything. And I ask if you could just pray that I get accepted into this music production school. It's a Christian music production school and it would be a really good opportunity for next year in the fall. So, I ask for those prayers and just let every DABber know I'm praying for you guys love you guys. Thank you for calling. Keep calling. It's a blessing to be able to pray and be a community. So, God bless you guys. Love you. Jesus loves you…

I have an adult special needs daughter that needs total care and I've just moved, and I don't have caregivers yet but it's time to get back to work and I'm not sure how to navigate all of that alone. So, I am asking for prayer for a caregiver but unfortunately, it's hard to find them because it's funded through the state funding which is a very low rate of pay. So, people don't want the job. It takes a special person and that's what I'm praying for. Thank you.

Hi DAB family this is Carlo from the Philippines. I heard Helen from North Carolina share her story about sharing your prayer requests and __ of it. So, I'm following her advice and doing it right now. So, I'd like to ask for prayers for my nephew and my mother-in-law both of whom are having mental health issues. I pray that they are able to resolve them, that they would receive the help…the professional help they need, and I pray that they would put their trust in God and God heals their disease. I pray also for my sister-in-law who is…and her family who is greatly troubled by these things. I pray that they find God's presence and that they put their trust in God as well. Me for myself also, I'd like to pray for my anger issues, my addiction to games issues, as sometimes it would take time away from my own family. That's it. Thank you. Thank you DAB family and know that I keep you in my prayers as well and bye for now.

Good morning DAB family this is Diana from Virginia a 10-year-old listener. I am calling to pray for my sister-in-law miss Nikki. Ms. Mikki is also a DAB listener. She posted a prayer on the prayer wall for her missing daughter Emily about three weeks ago. Family I ask you to continue praying because my niece Emily is still missing, and we pray that you all unite to pray for Emily's safe return. Emily is 34 years and has some mental challenges. We are praying for her safety. We are praying for her safe return, and we believe that Emily is going to come back to us but we need your prayers. And I ask you to pray more specifically for Nikki her mom and the entire family for strength so that we may continue believing in God and knowing that God is taking care of Emily wherever she is and that she's in good health and sound mind and that she will return to us. Thank you so much for your prayers.

Hi, my name is Khalisa and I'm in Oregon. I've been listening for about four years, and I've never called in because I don't like a lot of attention. But I've always…I've thought about it many times. In that four years my husband and I have found out that we cannot have biological children. We're starting the process of adoption. Now we're at the phase where we can get matched with a couple of kids, or a kid and we have to find them, and they have to be a good fit according to the state and people outside of our family. So, I really struggle with having to convince other people that I'll be a good parent. I know that I will, but I hate having to prove that kind of thing. And, so, I could just use some prayer for patience and strength and the perseverance to advocate for myself. I know I can do all things through Christ, but I hate having to convince the adoption agencies, social workers, and everybody else that I can parent some of these kids. So, yeah, just some patience. Thanks.

Good morning, everyone it's Susan from Canada God’s Yellow Flower calling, and I want you to join me in prayer for Christy's husband Tim. Lord God we want to just bring Tim before you. We hold him so dearly in our hearts dear God, him and Christy and we just ask that you would reach out and touch his hand Lord God and heal him from the tip of his head to the tips of his toes. Lord God you are more than able, more than able. We don't understand your ways and goodness because you're so much greater than ours, but you do say that if you don't ask you don't receive. So, we are asking with your holiness with your righteousness with your goodness with your mercies with your healing power touch Tim Lord God and make him whole again. Lord God, we just praise you for Tim and Christy's life and in our life that he is such a God-fearing wonderful person bringing glory to your name and all days and all ways. And we pray that Christy’s strength will endure through this trial Lord God. And we pray that when they receive the response it will be incorrect. We thank you Lord in advance for your mercies and your love no matter the circumstances. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.

0 notes

raazberry · 2 years

Note

lemnis really went after he got attached to the original individuals and sought to set things right skjfcndskj

but yeah, it's pretty eerie when you think about it because he just plopped into [godtongue]'s universe and stayed there for who knows how long, definitely witnessed the celestial war from down below, and then suddenly everything goes quiet. there's no communication, there's no check-ins, it's just him. he may as well assume all of the other archons & denizens abandoned him 💔 (or dead but yk)

and he was seeking them out! i didn't include this bit, but the second he felt that they were (about to be) born, he'd go and visit them. a lot of the times, he'd visit as they were growing up until they couldn't stay in their respective homes any longer, taking them in with him to keep them safe & "hidden". in [godtongue]'s case, he knew both of her parents beforehand, particularly her mother. after she took her leap of faith, he made sure to notify her father when he could!

"yo i saved ur daughter ur freaking welcommee 🙄🙄" and then her dad went "pls. pls just keep her safe" "thats the plan son" /j

and like. you'd imagine that [godtongue] would be traumatized after losing so much.. and she was! her teenage years consisted of her learning patience & how to forgive herself. before, she would impulsively confront 'in the name of justice', but she hadn't stopped before to think what that was. she didn't realize it, but she'd grown snarky & bitter in the face of everyone who was against her family.

tbh she was pretty much a well-meaning shithead during those next couple of years (mostly towards lemnis) lmao, all the while she grew into a very admirable and compassionate person, and especially a warm-hearted older sister you could depend on. she'd sneak into lemnis' secret studies and work twice as hard just to be able to read through his archives & books and once her younger siblings came more into the picture, she'd often aid them in their own interests & inspire them (both in a bad and good way) <3

as an adult she's respectful & fairly curious, going as far as managing to eavesdrop on RAD's student council in season 1 only to quickly be caught by barbatos, who would invite her to tea during every meeting to keep her occupied. unfortunately (or fortunately? hue hue) for barbatos, she'd ask questions that were both clever & thoughtful in nature--she isn't so easily quieted down lolol, but barbatos is probably the ONLY demon thar rivals her wit in his manner, and in a teasing sort of way, too. no matter! because she also successfully teases him back (•́⌄•́๑)૭✧ they are good friends, your honor

..save for the times she'd always look a little too deep into his eyes thanks to her curiosity, which would always be responded with “you see too much, my friend.” ..which has proven to be true all her life tbh so it's a haunting line for her

ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THINKING THIS IS INTERESTING!! yes casteus was the chosen descendant for the great old god, tian! and nazeli falling to her death was meant to parallel aurelia (hehe) leaping off the cliff. in a way, the fact that the original godtongue chose her makes you wonder if she was meant to live out the life she would've wanted for nazeli. she outlived her daughter, and now the new godtongue would outlive her own mother.

i definitely have more info on her siblings but i'll leave it at that for now 👌👌 honestly it's so funny when i talk about [godtongue]'s lore to friends because when i mention any of the obm cast they're like "i forgot this is your mc's backstory" and honestly love myself for that jdnfvks i really love writing it out, too!! i hope you're feeling okay btw <3

in all honesty i keep forgetting that this is your MC's lore as well because in my head i'm just like. this is a whole other world!!! which is technically true, but y'know

lemnis is just like me fr & im saying this for the tenth time atp but he is the belovedest ever i love him so much!!!!!!!!!!!! and the pics u linked about lia's dad :( i wish they could've all lived and been happy together somehow in another life

ALSO HELP TEENAGE GODTONGUE AS ANYA i haven't watched anastasia but you've definitely convinced me to now

also im just imagining barbatos and godtongue having tiny tea parties :DDDD they're besties (real) who else does she get along with in the obm cast?

i love, love, love how curious she is because it just makes for so much hilarity and learning also the ehe te nandayo bit made me cry with laughter bc i can Hear it

also im curious - do you usually write about her in like a Book Format (like. the previous ask abt this) or is it just a bunch of drabbles you kinda ended up stitching together? bc it's really cool to me how much depth there is to her and the people who have affected her life :0

#sorry about the late answer #i woke up from my nap like 20 minutes ago #cant wait for sibling lore tho bc they sound very fun!!!!!!!!#évo #godtongue my beloved #asks

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tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader

summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro

wc; 3k+

tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.

Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.

“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.

But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky.

You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out.

“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.

“No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”

“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace.

Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”

Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously.

“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.

To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”

At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.

“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”

“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”

That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift.

Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly.

As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head.

Semi Nude.

You blinked once. Then twice.

You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands.

She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe.

That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.

The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.

“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway.

You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant.

Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.

“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”

Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro.

Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way.

You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes.

Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream.

All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs.

“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”

You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin.

Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing.

Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”

His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.

“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”

You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind.

He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.

They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden.

Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home.

He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out.

Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you.

“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.”

You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”

Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!”

And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you.

“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture.

“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose.

He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles.

“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear.

The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.

You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves.

“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.”

Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you.

A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest.

His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip.

A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb.

He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze.

His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought.

“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you.

Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him.

You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing.

“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that.

“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.

But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.

You were a student at Fukurodani.

Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t.

You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year.

And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected.

He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.

But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush.

Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.

“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs.

“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning.

“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.”

“No, I definitely know you —“

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”

You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto.

You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.

“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”

You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”

And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door.

“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?”

With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder.

“I thought you said you knew me!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out.

His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket.

“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder.

“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.”

He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”

“Oh, you conniving little —“

“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door.

A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in.

His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.

“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”

“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare.

“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen.

“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door.

“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?”

You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.”

“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!” He screams as he runs out the door.

The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift.

#bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto x you #bokuto x y/n #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto kotaro x you #bokuto kotaro x y/n #bokuto fluff #bokuto kotaro headcanon #bokuto koutaro scenarios #bokuto imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x y/n #haikyuu!! fic

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queenshelby · 3 years

Text

My Friend’s Father (Part Five)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Mild Sexual References

Words: 1,848

Notes:

I have decided to make this into a series.

Alright, no judgment. This was a dream of mine and I felt like I had to write it down. Everyone in this Fic is over the age of 18 and this Fic is in no way based on Cillian’s real family life. It’s pure filth.

*************************

YOUR POV

Two weeks had passed since you visited your friend Denise in Dublin and it was time for the annual Galway Arts Festival.

Denise had been working on a photography project for the past year and had been nominated for a student award in Galway as part of which ten of her photographs were being displayed during the Arts Festival.

Whilst, as you had expected, Cillian didn’t contact you, you knew that he would be there to support his daughter. Being an artist himself, he was very proud of her and her work and he supported her projects not only mentally but also financially with the caveat that she would finish her degree at Trinity College.

Unlike him, he didn’t want her to drop out of university even though she hated it and you certainly understood his reasoning.

Contrary to Denise, you had no creative bone in your body. You enjoyed art and theatre, but weren’t an artist or performer yourself. Instead, you were an A Grade Law Student who had become rather bored in Galway and had recently applied for a scholarship to Oxford University.

Reading was your passion and you had always been known as a geek. In school, you were the girl that no one liked, nerdy, not interested in fashion or social media and wearing braces, which, luckily, had been removed three years ago.

You were shy and it was only for Denise that you came out of your shell. She was popular in school, mostly due to her name, but also because she was generally confident and, over the years, she helped you gain confidence especially after you had left high school.

But, today, you knew you would be questioning your gained confidence once again since, first of all, you would be seeing Cillian again and the truth was that you couldn’t stop thinking about him in an intimate way and, secondly, you were featured completely naked on some of Denise’s photographs.

Whilst the photographs were artistic and not sexual in any way and your most intimate part wasn’t visible on them, it bothered you knowing that people you disliked would see you so vulnerable and you couldn’t remember why you had agreed to being photographed like that.

The other woman who Denise chose to photograph was Amalie. She was 23 and had been Denise’s friend for a while as well but, unlike you, she began modelling professionally when she was just 16. You all went to the same private school together and, clearly, her lifestyle had been largely financed by her parents. She always wore expensive clothes and had no interest in pursuing a career other than modelling, which barely sustained her lifestyle considering the few small jobs she got.

***

Just as you served your last cup of coffee to an elderly lady sitting in the corner of the café you were working at, you saw Denise, Amalie and two other friends of Denise walk in.

‘Hey guys, take a seat. I will be right with you. I am just about to finish my shift’ you said as you hung up your apron.

‘Please tell me you will get changed before the Gallery opening tonight?’ Amalie asked somewhat weirdly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you sat down at the table with her, Denise and the others before ordering some coffees for yourselves.

‘No, I thought I would go like this’ you said sarcastically, looking down at your coffee-stained clothes.

‘I bought a dress for tonight’ you then said, after Amalie didn’t seem to sense your sarcasm.

‘Right’ she then said as she flicked through Instagram and you simply looked at Denise who shrug her shoulders.

‘What are you looking for?’ you asked curiously as her eyes seemed to be glued to her phone.

‘She is looking to find more photos of my dad and Laura Jennings’ Denise said, rolling her eyes.

‘Laura Jennings, as in the actress?’ you asked, causing Amalie to nod.

‘Yes, apparently they have been dating’ Amalie then confirmed, causing you to swallow harshly. You knew that you shouldn’t care but you couldn’t help it. Knowing that Cillian was seeing someone made you feel ill.

‘And you care about that why?’ you then asked Amalie after an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine.

‘Apparently, just like you, Amalie thinks my dad is a DILF’ Denise huffed out before telling you how disgusting you all were.

‘Well, he is though…he is super hot’ Amalie then joked before carrying on. ‘And I don’t understand how you don’t know about Laura Jennings and whether this is true or not. You need to find out’ Amalie then said but Denise simply shook her head.

‘My father doesn’t share this sort of stuff with me and I certainly don’t want to know about his sex life, thank you very much. In so far as I am concerned, he doesn’t have sex, ever…yuck! Also, I would appreciate if you could not talk about my dad anymore, please. It grosses me out’ Denise said and you knew that, all of this had become a common occurrence ever since the day the first episode of Peaky Blinders aired on BBC, a show which Denise refuses to watch herself because of the heavy sexual content and a show which you, only a week ago, had begun to binge watch.

Cillian’s POV

When Cillian walked into the basement after you had left, he immediately saw the small folded up note you had left him but, reading it, made him somewhat uncomfortable.

He was torn about what to do with it and certainly knew that he should ignore it. He couldn’t see you again even if he wanted to.

The fact that you were 23 years younger than him and that you were his daughter’s best friend made it all wrong and highly inappropriate and he didn’t know what had gotten into him in the first place when he gave into you.

He had never felt attracted towards you in any sort of way until that last visit which was the first time had seen you since you and your family had moved away.

You changed in many ways and he wasn’t sure what it was that he liked about you. But what he knew was that it was more than just sexual attraction, which was usually something he knew how to supress.

With that in mind, he placed your note into his wallet and decided to ignore it for now. But he couldn’t quite bring himself to throw it out.

***

With his bags packed it was time for him to return to Manchester and resume filming of the final season of Peaky Blinders.

The first week of filming went well and Cillian decided to spend the weekend with his friend, fellow actress Laura Jennings. Cillian and her had developed a friend with benefits sort of relationship. No strings attached and no feelings involved. After his divorce from Denise’s mother, he wasn’t ready for anything else and Laura would certainly not have been the type of woman he would have wanted a relationship with in the first place.

Unlike him, she wasn’t press shy and, whilst they kept their arrangement a secret as best as they could, she was otherwise quite active on social media.

Cillian, on the other hand, only maintained a private Instagram account with the sole purpose of being able to check on his children. Whilst they were adults, he was still worried about them, especially Denise who had recently gotten herself in a lot of trouble after distancing herself from this Jeremy boy.

***

‘Another wine?’ Laura asked as Cillian was relaxing on top of the doonas, wearing nothing but his black Calvin Klein briefs, after they had spent the last hour doing exactly what friends with benefits would do after not having seen each other for over two weeks due to busy filming schedules.

‘Yes please…thanks’ he responded as he reached for his phone after a notification had popped up.

It was his daughter Denise who had posted on Instagram and, since she hadn’t posted for a while, he decided to check it out, hoping that she wasn’t with Jeremy again.

To his surprise, three new pictures of Denise and her friends showed up when he opened the APP and, one of them, there was you.

In the picture, you were wearing accompanied by a man in his late twenties, wearing a suit while you were wearing a dark blue dress and he couldn’t help but wonder who the man by your side was.

You looked simply stunning, with your hair long and open and your shoulders exposed. You were wearing only a little bit of make up and showed your beautiful smile.

‘There you go Mr Murphy’ Laura then said as she returned to the bedroom with another glass of wine, pulling Cillian’s phone out of his hand and climbing on top of him.

‘Round Two?’ she then asked eagerly as she reached for another condom, but Cillian’s thoughts were elsewhere entirely.

‘Maybe tomorrow, I am tired. It has been a long week, sorry’ he explained, causing Laura to pout with disappointment.

But the second round never eventuated as Cillian left Laura’s house the following morning to drive back to Manchester to resume filming.

On his way back to Manchester, he called his daughter Denise to check on her and while he did, he enquired about your companion on the Instagram posts.

‘Why do you want to know?’ Denise asked somewhat confused but Cillian played it cool.

‘He looks familiar, that’s all. Didn’t he go to your school?’ he then asked, playing dumb.

‘Oh god no, he is 29. His name is Connor and he is an accountant. Y/N wouldn’t date anyone our age. You know she isn’t a normal 21-year-old’ Denise joked, referring to your nerdiness and intellect.

‘Apparently not’ Cillian chuckled before asking another question about the stranger on the picture. ‘So, they are dating?’ he asked.

‘I think they went on two or three dates or something. Why do you care?’ Denise asked.

‘No reason. I was just wondering’ Cillian confirmed before changing the topic.

Tag List:

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@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon @ysmmsy

#cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

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matthew-gray-gubler-lover · 6 months

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Sex With Spencer Reid All Seasons (season 13)

If you are under the age of 18, please do not read this story. Thank you.

This will cover what I believe sex would be like with Spencer Reid from season 1 to 15. Warning contains adult situations, Sex. Dirty talk, Orgasms, Crying, Spoilers for all seasons and Spencer Reid being a sex God.

Also includes fingering and oral sex. (Female receiving only.)

These are a little bit longer than I anticipated them to be because I wanted to give a back story as to why the sex is the way that it is for each season. To give it in depth feeling of why Spencer was the way that he was in bed that season. So I will be posting them by each season rather than all at once. I hope this gives you something to look forward to, and please leave comments, I will be leaving links to the next season below.

You are a new agent at the BAU and Spencer Reid's girlfriend, the one who takes his virginity and has sex with him for all 15 seasons and beyond.

Spencer Reid knew the first time he saw you walk through the doors of the BAU that you were the one that he was going to love forever. The first time you smiled, he knew it was the only smile that he ever wanted to wake up to. The first time he touched your hand, he knew yours was the only hand he ever wanted to hold. The first time he kissed you, he knew your lips were the only ones that he ever wanted to have pressed against his own. and the first time he made love to you, he knew you were the only one he ever wanted to do this with, and he also knew he would never be the same you or his life now, his love and his only desire.

Season 13

Spoilers for season 13

Once Spencer is finally released from prison and Cat Adams is done playing her game with him, Diana is found safe and Emily is found and Mr. Scratch is finally gone. you're back at home And are both exhausted from the really rough few days that you've had, let alone the past three months.

You drag yourself into yours and Spencer's apartment and flop on the couch. Spencer is right behind you after he shuts and locks the front door.

"I'm so glad to have you back home Spencer. I missed you so much." You told him as you just stared at him. You couldn't keep your eyes off of him. You're just so happy that he's back home, trying to forget how horrible it was the whole time he was in prison.

"I'm so tired too. You must be so tired as well. You couldn't possibly have gotten much sleep in prison. How about we just take a shower and go to bed? Or we can just go to bed if you'd rather. I understand if you don't want to be touched. It must have been awful in there. I'll keep my distance if you want me to." you offered.

The whole time you've been talking, Spencer's just been standing there at the door, staring at you. You're not sure what's wrong. Did you do something wrong? Say something wrong? He seemed like the sweet Spencer that he was before he went into prison, But maybe he's different now.

"Spence?"

Before you knew it was happening, he was rushing towards the couch, putting his hands on both side of your face and kissing your lips with passion.

"I missed you so much. You're all I thought about in there. I didn't think I was ever going to be able to kiss you again. Every time you came to visit me, all I wanted to do was just hold you in my arms and kiss you. Please don't keep your distance. I don't want you to stay away from me. I want to hold you. I want to Make Love to you. I want to kiss you. I want to take showers together. Bubble baths together. I had so many dreams in there about doing all of these things. And then I woke up and you weren't there, I wasn't in our apartment. I wasn't even in a hotel room with you on a case. I was in that horrible, horrible cell. I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. Please don't go away." he asked you almost begging.

"OK baby, don't worry. I'm not going to leave. I'm not going anywhere. I want all the same things that you want. I missed you so much. I worried about you every single minute of the day."

You both gave in to desire as Spencer kissed you and scooped you up off of the couch, carrying you bridal style into your shared bedroom. Everything was just as he remembered, as he laid you down on the Forest Green comforter. The lights were the same, the window shades were the same. Everything looked exactly the way that he remembered it.

Spencer kissed you, and the comforter felt so nice against his arms as he laid on top of you, kissing you, both of you still fully clothed.

Spencer pulled his lips away from yours. You noticed that There were tears in his eyes. You lifted up your hands and wiped them away with your thumbs before whispering. "You don't have to cry. I'm here. This isn't a dream."

Spencer sniffled and kissed your left hand, noticing your wedding ring sparkling in the moonlight That was seeping through the window.

"Promise?... Promise? This isn't just a dream. I'm not going to wake up back in there?" he asked.

"i promise."

Spencer stood up off the bed and started to remove his tie before unbuttoning his shirt. As he did so, you notice little bruises and scratches, a few cuts here and there, not even being able to allow yourself to wonder what happened to him in there.

All you wanted right now was to enjoy how beautiful Spencer is standing there before you shirtless. As he starts removing his pants, all you want is your husband. That's all you wanted for the past three months.

You were so caught up in staring at him that you didn't even notice the tears that was running down your face. But Spencer did, leaning down to wipe away the tears the same as you did with him before kissing you on the lips and saying, "it's not a dream remember?"

He then began removing your clothes, starting with your burgundy sweater. While his burgundy sweater really You wore his sweaters a lot so that you could feel close to him while he was away.

Once you are completely bare, he looked at you, lit up by only the moonlight.

"are you ok?" you asked him.

"yes, i...i missed you so much, but you said you are tired are you sure you want this?" he asked with such sadness in his voice.

"Yes of course I do. I missed you so much. But if you're tired, and I know you must be, we don't have to do this. We can just go to sleep and....."

Spencer cut you off with a passionate kiss to the lips. That was the start of a beautiful evening.

He kissed a trail from your lips, neck all the way down to your center. He opened your legs and asked, "Are you sure you want this?"

"yes please i need it so badly."

Spencer then put his head down and began licking you. Something that you missed so very much. You missed the touch, the smell, everything of Spencer Reid. He was all that you wanted, all that you needed.

After two orgasms from oral, Spencer kissed his way back up and asked. "You sure you want more? I can wait until tomorrow."

"If we wait until tomorrow, we both might explode. Please. Please. I need you Spencer. I need you so badly. I needed you then. I need you now. I'll need you always."

And with that Spencer slowly slid inside of you and interlace your fingers together, Both of you moaning with the extreme pleasure. Not being with each other for so long made everything so sensitive, even though you just had two orgasms from oral. Spencer's movements were slow. His kisses were filled with love and appreciation for you. It's as though Spencer never wanted this moment to end. And truly, you didn't either.

You were so happy to be back together, and you're both very thankful for the six weeks' worth of vacation time that you were given.

Once Spencer was reinstated, he was very happy to be back on the team, but disappointed to learn that it wasn't A full reinstatement. He would have to take time off and it was mandatory but was thrilled to hear that he was going to be able to be a professor thanks to Prentiss.

You thought the Spencer looked so cute as a professor. Of course you always thought that he was hot. And that's what sparked the idea in your head. One day you didn't have a case in Spencer was working at the school, so you decided to go and bring him a surprise lunch.

You Tippy toed into the room as Spencer was still teaching. There was still 5 minutes' worth of teaching time before Class was lit out for lunch.

You couldn't help but notice how all the girls in the class were flipping their hair and staring at your husband as he walked back and forth describing criminology.

You even heard a couple of them say he's so hot as they walked out of the room to go to lunch. Something that made you angry but also very proud because you're his wife and those girls will never have him.

Spencer was erasing the chalkboard when he heard a familiar voice.

"Hey there Professor Sexy"

He turned around to see you walking towards him, holding a little bag in your hand containing his lunch.

"Y/N" he said loudly.

"yep it's me, and i can't Begin to tell you how sexy you are when you teach. I didn't think that you could get any sexier, but lo and behold, you did." You told him as you placed the plastic bag on his desk.

"what's this?" he asked after kissing you.

"It's your lunch. A Turkey sub on wheat with a side of potato chips."

"Thank you honey, this is so sweet. What inspired this? He asked as he took the sub out of the bag."

"Just missed you."

"i missed you too, and you know i am Hungry, but I think that I'm going to save this sub for later because there's something else that I really want to eat right now.

"oh, i'm sorry i thought...." Spencer cut you off with a kiss before whispering in your ear. "Don't you want to know what I'm hungry for?"

"yes"

"you" he whispered in your ear.

"How do you feel about having sex on my desk?" he asked you.

You couldn't believe what he was suggesting doing, and if you weren't so turned on, you might have thought differently than you were right now. But all you could think about was how sexy he was and how much you wanted him.

"yes, yes i want to" you answered.

That was all he needed to hear. He picked up the sub and put it back in the bag and placing the bag on his chair before lifting you up and putting you up on the desk.

Making things all the better for him was the fact that you were wearing a skirt Today he lifted that up, removing your black underwear and licking right up your center.

"Mmm so good, and Exactly what I wanted." he moaned.

You moaned as you put your head back on the desk and ran your fingers through his curly hair.

"Are you close baby?" He asked you.

"yes" you moaned out.

Just then, he pulled his mouth away from you before quickly removing his belt and dropping his pants along with his underwear. Didn't even give you time to fully process what was happening. You didn't even really realize that his mouth had left you before he was pushing inside of you.

"Oh honey I'll never get tired of this feeling. You always feel so good around me. I want you to finish with me inside of you OK?"

"ok"

If someone would have told you when you first met Spencer that one day he would be a professor and you'd be having sex on his desk, you would have told them they were completely insane, that this man would never have sex with you on his desk. but here you are.

You were even more surprised to how much time he was taking with you, given that class is going to resume after lunch.

"Did you ever fantasize about this honey? About having sex with your professor husband on his desk?" Spencer asked you.

"yes i have" you answered.

"you know i think some of the girls in my class think about it to, but you are the only one who can have me like this," he whispered in your ear.

Spencer chuckled before asking. "Ready?"

"YES!" you tell out. right before spencer came inside of you.

Both of you moaning together in unison.

It's a good thing that you're both done, because as soon as he got done moaning your name and your ear, the bell rang, lunch was officially over, and Professor Sexy had to go back to teaching those girls who wanted your husband but would never have him.

Spencer kissed you and said "thank you for lunch"

As you walk to the door, you can see the girls ogling at your husband again, but you walked out knowing that you were the only one who could ever have sex with him on his desk, or anywhere for that matter.

That night when Spencer came home and was grading papers, you couldn't keep your eyes off of him still wearing his outfit from being a professor. Not really that much different than the clothes that he wears normally at the BAU. but still there was something about him.

You made dinner and then spencer took a shower. Spencer still has some papers to grade.

So you decided to take your shower while you were waiting for him to get done grading. You were still so turned on by him as he sat Wearing his Gray bathrobe in his comfy green chair, located in front of the window right next to the bookshelf with a light and a little table. As he graded the papers. Just looking so beautiful, so sexy. So gorgeous.

When you are done with your shower, you came back out of the bathroom wearing your pink bathrobe.

You could see that there wasn't many papers left in front of Spencer, so you walked over to him and stood next to the chair.

spencer looked up at you and said "hey baby what's up?"

"Just watching my sexy professor husband wondering how much longer it's going to be before I can take care of him."

"i just finished the last paper."

"well that's good Because I couldn't wait for you anymore, you told him as you begin kissing his neck, standing next to the chair, making your way onto his lap.

As you did so, you could see something starting to peek up through the opening of Spencer's bathrobe, and you couldn't be happier to see it. You on tied his bathrobe and sunk down onto his perfect penis. You were so greedy for him, you just swallowed him right on up, causing Spencer to moan.

"are we going to have sex right here?" spencer asked.

"yep" you answered.

Your movements were slow and your kisses were full of love. You just wanted to feel your husband inside of you again, something that you missed so much the three months that he was away. And truth be told, he couldn't get enough of you either.

But the slow movements became too much for Spencer. He ended up holding onto your hips and thrusting up into you, causing you to throw your head back and moan out his name.

Spencer then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, never pulling out and carrying you into your bedroom, laying you softly on the bed and making love to you.

You were both so glad that Spencer was back home. The love of your life was back with you in your bed, holding you tight, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, feeling his fingertips run up and down your back, telling you, loving things. And you were never going to lose him again.

Of course, you really didn't like the fact that the new recruits for the BAU kept ogling at your man. but Again you knew that you were truly Spencer Reid's. One and only love.

Everything was going so wonderfully for you and Spencer. That was until the day that he got kidnapped again.

Masterlist for these stories

#doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #dr reid #mgg #reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader

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reginarubie · 2 years

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Blood magic and Daenerys Targaryen choice and death

Did Daenerys merely enter the pyre because it called to her and the dragons were born because she deserved them or, like the Valyrian before her, she did a blood-rite, used blood-magic deliberately?

Up until I read the books I though a) Targaryens could be immune to fire and Daenerys was and b) Daenerys did not wake the dragons deliberately from the eggs, it had sort of happen like some twist of fate. Like she was granted them. It seemed similar to the Starks getting their direwolves (and it's not but I am going to delve into that in a bit).

But after I read the books and started to really delve into the asoiaf lore I realised that the Targaryens most surely well not immune to fire, but could be highly resistant to it and even GRRM has contested that her surviving the fire unscathed was uncommon even between Targaryens and valyrians.

Granny: Do Targaryens become immune to fire once they "bond" to their dragons?

George RR Martin: Granny, thanks for asking that. It gives me a chance to clear up a common misconception. TARGARYENS ARE NOT IMMUNE TO FIRE! The birth of Dany's dragons was unique, magical, wonderous, a miracle. She is called The Unburnt because she walked into the flames and lived. But her brother sure as hell wasn't immune to that molten gold.

Revanshe: So she won't be able to do it again?

George RR Martin: Probably not.

And, Daenerys waking the eggs from stone and calling the dragons from within is not exactly a miracle if we put it in perspective; it can be seen as some sort of miracle since the dragons have apparently gone extinct ages ago.

But, if one delves a bit into what we know of old Valyria and study a bit about who the valyrian were and what they did we understand that they were not mere dragonlords, but that they delved into blood-magic, created chimeras by genetically and biologically twisting the flesh of animals and people to make chimeras (Fire and Blood) and were generally used to use dark magic and blood magic as well.

And this is not some old custom left in the ruins of Old Valyria since Visenya Targaryen was rumoured to have dabbled in the dark sorceries (The World of Ice & Fire, the Reign of the dragons: the conquest) as well.

Now, let put that aside to return to later down, as a first time viewer of the show when Daenerys had gotten her dragons at the end of season 1 I had thought it was something similar to the Starks getting their direwolves back in episode 1. WRONG!

Why? Because the Starks do absolutely nothing but find the direwolf pups. They find them and save them. When the adults suggest they should mercy-kill the pups the Starklings advocate (Jon in particular which would beg for another meta of its own, but a matter for another time) against it and the only element of "magic" is when Jon finds Ghost as it is subtextual that with those colours of the albino (white fur and blood red eyes) Ghost has been a gift from the Gods to reward Jon for his selfness in advocating for his siblings to keep the pups even if it meant isolate himself further.

“Lord Stark,” Jon said. It was strange to hear him call Father that, so formal. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. “There are five pups,” he told Father. “Three male, two female.”

“What of it, Jon?”“You have five trueborn children,” Jon said.

“Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.”

Bran saw his father’s face change, saw the other men exchange glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.

Their father understood as well.

“You want no pup for yourself, Jon?” he asked softly.

“The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. “I am no Stark, Father.”

AGOT, Bran I

What Daenerys does it pretty different on numerous levels. In the show it is not shown as much, and it is not given much thought over, but if we see what the valerians did (dabble with blood magic and twisted the flesh of animals and men) that's exactly what Daenerys does; albeit in one case, imo, without having a clear conscience of what it may entail.

When Daenerys asks Mirri to heal Drogo she is told by the other Dothraki that the maegy will use sorcery, even Mirri herself tells her so.

"Make him another poultice," Dany begged. "This time I will make certain he wears it."

"The time for that is past, my lady," Mirri said. "All I can do now is ease the dark road before him, so he might ride painless to the night lands. He will be gone by morning."

In this aspect we are almost hinted to believe this is the same as the Starks, because she advocates to save Drogo's life like the Starklings advocate to save the pups. But, as always, the core difference is in the means used and the mindset used. The Starklings have positive acting, they will care and train the pups themselves and Ned tells them the pups may die anyway, yet they accept that anyway and are ready to care for the pups. Later we will return to it, but for now let's go on with Daenerys embracing the maegi and valyrian in her.

Her words were a knife through Dany's breast. What had she ever done to make the gods so cruel? She had finally found a safe place, had finally tasted love and hope. She was finally going home. And now to lose it all … "No," she pleaded. "Save him, and I will free you, I swear it. You must know a way … some magic, some …"

Mirri Maz Duur sat back on her heels and studied Daenerys through eyes as black as night. "There is a spell." Her voice was quiet, scarcely more than a whisper. "But it is hard, lady, and dark. Some would say that death is cleaner. I learned the way in Asshai, and paid dear for the lesson. My teacher was a bloodmage from the Shadow Lands."

[...]

"What do you mean to do?" Dany asked her.

"We need the blood," Mirri answered. "That is the way."

[...]

Jhogo edged back, his hand on his arakh. He was a youth of sixteen years, whip-thin, fearless, quick to laugh, with the faint shadow of his first mustachio on his upper lip. He fell to his knees before her. "Khaleesi," he pleaded, "you must not do this thing. Let me kill this maegi."

Braziers were lit. Mirri Maz Duur tossed a red powder onto the coals. It gave the smoke a spicy scent, a pleasant enough smell, yet Eroeh fled sobbing, and Dany was filled with fear. But she had gone too far to turn back now. She sent her handmaids away. "Go with them, Silver Lady," Mirri Maz Duur told her.

"I will stay," Dany said. "The man took me under the stars and gave life to the child inside me. I will not leave him."

[...]

"Monstrous," Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. "Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years."

That, ladies and gents, as @sansaissteel gently pointed out to me when we were speaking of it, is all in all a chimera. We don't know how the valyrian created them only that they used blood-magic (Mirri was using blood-magic when Dany lost her child, blood magic she warned Daenerys from as well as she tried to keep her away from) and while Daenerys might have caused this unknowingly (even if she had been warned more times that one can count) that's exactly what happened, while Mirri used the blood magic to heal Drogo at Daenerys' behest it latched onto Rhaego (who probably was already genetically malformed to begin with, with all the inbreeding the Targaryens did during the centuries) and twisted its flesh and made him monstrous, a chimera.

And, it is heartbreaking and heart-wrenching, but that is the truth of it by the context we are given, even if cause unknowingly and heartbreaking for all involved as the death of her human child is a big stepping stone in Daenerys' journey toward her full embracing of her valyrian roots and beliefs.

"My son was alive and strong when Ser Jorah carried me into this tent," she said. "I could feel him kicking, fighting to be born."

"That may be as it may be," answered Mirri Maz Duur, "yet the creature that came forth from your womb was as I said. Death was in that tent, Khaleesi."

[...]

"You warned me that only death could pay for life. I thought you meant the horse."

"No," Mirri Maz Duur said. "That was a lie you told yourself. You knew the price."

Had she? Had she? If I look back I am lost. "The price was paid," Dany said. "The horse, my child, Quaro and Qotho, Haggo and Cohollo. The price was paid and paid and paid." She rose from her cushions. "Where is Khal Drogo? Show him to me, godswife, maegi, bloodmage, whatever you are. Show me Khal Drogo. Show me what I bought with my son's life."

It's that if I look back I am lost in reply to the terrible question of if she had actually known the price and had still chosen to pay it anyway (this is the price for the Iron throne - Daenerys VII, AGOT) that suggests to me that she is already well on her way to completely embrace the valyrian in her and accept that such a price is to be paid to get what she wants (and btw if that becomes her mindset doesn't it bode very ill for the price she's willing to pay to get her new end-goal, the Iron throne?)

"He seems to like the warmth, Princess," Ser Jorah said. "His eyes follow the sun, though he does not see it. He can walk after a fashion. He will go where you lead him, but no farther. He will eat if you put food in his mouth, drink if you dribble water on his lips."

Dany kissed her sun-and-stars gently on the brow, and stood to face Mirri Maz Duur. "Your spells are costly, maegi."

"He lives," said Mirri Maz Duur. "You asked for life. You paid for life."

[...]

"When will he be as he was?" Dany demanded.

Daenerys later kills Drogo because she thinks this is not life worthy of being lived, because it is not enough that her husband still lives and breaths and enjoys the warmth as well as follow the sun and eats and drinks when he is helped.

At this point we have to return to what the Starklings say to convince Ned to let them keep the pups. At first they comment on how they can nurse at the dog in the kennels and when the adults tell them that will not do, what do they do? They decide it is a mercy to kill the pups anyway because they'll have to care for them for an indefinite time?

Their lord father regarded Jon thoughtfully.

Robb rushed into the silence he left. “I will nurse him myself, Father,” he promised. “I will soak a towel with warm milk, and give him suck from that.”

“Me too!” Bran echoed.

The lord weighed his sons long and carefully with his eyes. “Easy to say, and harder to do. I will not have you wasting the servants’ time with this. If you want these pups, you will feed them yourselves. Is that understood?”

Bran nodded eagerly. The pup squirmed in his grasp, licked at his face with a warm tongue.

“You must train them as well,” their father said. “You must train them. The kennelmaster will have nothing to do with these monsters, I promise you that. And the gods help you if you neglect them, or brutalize them, or train them badly. These are not dogs to beg for treats and slink off at a kick. A direwolf will rip a man’s arm off his shoulder as easily as a dog will kill a rat. Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes, Father,” Bran said.

“Yes,” Robb agreed.

“The pups may die anyway, despite all you do.”

“They won’t die,” Robb said. “We won’t let them die.”

Bran I, AGOT

A contrast indeed. The core values are completely different than Daenerys deciding to do blood-magic even when she is warned against it to save Drogo and then decides to mercy-kill him instead of feeding him of her own hand and "training" him in away, because she'll have to care for him as the Starklings would have with the pups when they are so little.

But let's return to Daenerys and Mirri.

"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," said Mirri Maz Duur. "When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before."

aka, when you will stop embracing the valyrian in you?, possible but I am not sure.

Dany gestured at Ser Jorah and the others. "Leave us. I would speak with this maegi alone." Mormont and the Dothraki withdrew. "You knew," Dany said when they were gone. She ached, inside and out, but her fury gave her strength. "You knew what I was buying, and you knew the price, and yet you let me pay it."

[...]

"Look to your khal and see what life is worth, when all the rest is gone."

[...]

Mirri Maz Duur watched from the dust with disquiet in her black eyes. "It is not enough to kill a horse," she told Dany. "By itself, the blood is nothing. You do not have the words to make a spell, nor the wisdom to find them. Do you think bloodmagic is a game for children? You call me maegi as if it were a curse, but all it means is wise. You are a child, with a child's ignorance. Whatever you mean to do, it will not work. Loose me from these bonds and I will help you."

"I am tired of the maegi's braying," Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that the godswife kept silent.

As she climbed down off the pyre, she noticed Mirri Maz Duur watching her. "You are mad," the godswife said hoarsely.

"Is it so far from madness to wisdom?" Dany asked. "Ser Jorah, take this maegi and bind her to the pyre."

Just a moment ago Mirri has pointed out how Daenerys has used the word maegi as an insult as if it meant witch while, instead, it means only wise. And maegi dabble in the blood magic and dark sorceries and now Daenerys tells her she's only being wise. It's a game of words, this is the moment, the moment Daenerys deliberately chooses the embrace the valyrian in her, the maegi as she intends it.

Is it even a wonder that this chapter which closes the last circle of the blood-rite comes after Daenerys IX where she affirms that she is like Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel and all of Valyria before them?, and that the men that are her enemies will die screaming?

The blood-rite Daenerys does take up from Daenerys IX to Daenerys X, and in one chapter (Daenerys IX) she points out she is a valyrian (remember what the valyrians did?) and in this one she actually acts on it.

It's like in the rite before (the one done by Mirri) she is but an unknowing (to which point it is unsure as she herself says) variant, a bit like a headless chicken running about without the cognition of what is happening; from Daenerys IX on she is aware and actively moves toward her goal.

So, later she has this conversation with Mirri, she mercy-kills Drogo and orders that she is bind to his funeral pyre and settles the eggs on his chest.

The godswife did not cry out as they dragged her to Khal Drogo's pyre and staked her down amidst his treasures. Dany poured the oil over the woman's head herself. "I thank you, Mirri Maz Duur," she said, "for the lessons you have taught me."

"You will not hear me scream," Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing.

"I will," Dany said, "but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life." Mirri Maz Duur opened her mouth, but made no reply. As she stepped away, Dany saw that the contempt was gone from the maegi's flat black eyes; in its place was something that might have been fear. Then there was nothing to be done but watch the sun and look for the first star.

Why is Mirri suddenly afraid?, a moment ago she commented on how Daenerys was but a child and any sacrifice she may have wanted to make would have served nothing, but now she's scared?, can it be because Daenerys has actually hit the nail of the rite in the head?, that she has perfectly understood how to do it and have it stick?

Dany took the torch from Aggo's hand and thrust it between the logs. The oil took the fire at once, the brush and dried grass a heartbeat later. Tiny flames went darting up the wood like swift red mice, skating over the oil and leaping from bark to branch to leaf. A rising heat puffed at her face, soft and sudden as a lover's breath, but in seconds it had grown too hot to bear. Dany stepped backward. The wood crackled, louder and louder. Mirri Maz Duur began to sing in a shrill, ululating voice. The flames whirled and writhed, racing each other up the platform. The dusk shimmered as the air itself seemed to liquefy from the heat. Dany heard logs spit and crack. The fires swept over Mirri Maz Duur. Her song grew louder, shriller … then she gasped, again and again, and her song became a shuddering wail, thin and high and full of agony.

Daenerys is the one pouring the oil over both Drogo, his treasures and the maegi, she's the one lighting the flame of the pyre. She is the one doing the rite. Deliberately.

And now the flames reached her Drogo, and now they were all around him. His clothing took fire, and for an instant the khal was clad in wisps of floating orange silk and tendrils of curling smoke, grey and greasy. Dany's lips parted and she found herself holding her breath. Part of her wanted to go to him as Ser Jorah had feared, to rush into the flames to beg for his forgiveness and take him inside her one last time, the fire melting the flesh from their bones until they were as one, forever.

She wants to immolate herself as well. Give her life as well.

The heat beat at the air with great red wings, driving the Dothraki back, driving off even Mormont, but Dany stood her ground. She was the blood of the dragon, and the fire was in her.

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. Mirri Maz Duur had fallen silent. The godswife thought her a child, but children grow, and children learn.

There you have it, the last step. Daenerys knows perfectly well what she is doing, she doesn't know exactly, or cannot put that into words correctly yet, what she's paying for; but she's doing this blood-rite deliberately. And what had Mirri told her?, that a stallion would not be enough - as Daenerys has already discovered - hold onto that we are returning to that later on.

Sweat ran down her thighs and between her breasts and in rivulets over her cheeks, where tears had once run. Ser Jorah was shouting behind her, but he did not matter anymore, only the fire mattered. The flames were so beautiful, the loveliest things she had ever seen, each one a sorcerer robed in yellow and orange and scarlet, swirling long smoky cloaks. She saw crimson firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame; she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last. She saw a horse, a great grey stallion limned in smoke, its flowing mane a nimbus of blue flame. Yes, my love, my sun-and-stars, yes, mount now, ride now.

Humans, Jorah is the man she cares more for now that her husband and brother and son are all dead, do not matter anymore the only things that matter is the dragon and the flames. Completely and deliberately embracing the valyrian and maegi in herself.

Now, she thought, now, and for an instant she glimpsed Khal Drogo before her, mounted on his smoky stallion, a flaming lash in his hand. He smiled, and the whip snaked down at the pyre, hissing.

She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone.

Or shattering bone?, could be. When one breaks a bone it does crack after all. The words are even similar in the English version.

The platform of wood and brush and grass began to shift and collapse in upon itself. Bits of burning wood slid down at her, and Dany was showered with ash and cinders. And something else came crashing down, bouncing and rolling, to land at her feet; a chunk of curved rock, pale and veined with gold, broken and smoking.

I am not digressing over the fact that wood, brush and grass shift and collars and Daenerys remains showered in ash and cinders for all the foreshadowing it has for the endgame of the books, but damn if it is not very compelling... like dragons plant no trees.

The roaring filled the world, yet dimly through the firefall Dany heard women shriek and children cry out in wonder.

Only death can pay for life.

She is doing this blood-rite deliberately, following in the footsteps of the valyrians before her. Just like she stated the chapter before this one:

She lifted her head. "And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming. Now bring me to Khal Drogo."

Daenerys IX, AGOT

She is choosing this path for herself knowing perfectly well what it entails. And while I am all for agency of choice and freedom of speech and act, this doesn't mean you can do what you want and get away with it, stepping all over others (which is what she will begin to do even worse than she already did, after this point).

And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don’t you see? Don’t you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.

That is the mindset of valyrians, who intermarried to keep the blood pure. They were sons/daughters of the dragons, they married other dragons (their siblings) and had with them children (other dragons). And that, so near with the mantra of only death can pay for life suggest that while she may not completely understands the length at which she is going, she knows exactly what she is doing and why to a degree, since she calls herself mother of dragons as well, still knowing she cannot bear living children as Mirri has told her.

She hears three cracks and three treasons she will know, three is the number of dragons roused from the stone-eggs and three are the cities she conquers before setting her eyesight west (will she conquer only three out of seven kingdoms are Jaime tells Cersei during s7?).

And the last crack is like the breaking of the world. Which is pretty ominous in my opinion and hints to death; her death after the last treason possibly and also her death in this very moment.

When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burnt bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away . . . yet she was unhurt.

When the fire died at last, why not using a synonymous?, like I don't know extinguished, snuffed out?, I am not a native speaker but I am sure many others can be found.

You remember I had told you about Mirri pointing out how a stallion would not had been enough?, that's why. She gets three lives out of this blood-rite; and we know that the stallion is not enough of sacrifice, so who was the third sacrifice?

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

Daenerys X, AGOT

This is the first time in this chapter that Daenerys is addressed as Daenerys Targaryen instead of Dany or Daenerys and it is telling.

It's a shift.

Like as if the girl who stepped into the fire has died and the one who got out of it is another person completely.

And with the author having used the term "fire died out" and then "night came alive" it sounds like Dany/Daenerys as she has been before now has died and now Daenerys Targaryen has come alive from the recess of her mind (her dreams about the dragon she decides to follow and be like).

In fact Daenerys after this is an hyped up version of the worst and best aspects of Daenerys before this moment. In the bad and in the good - she felt sorry for the slaves before, she decides to free them when it advantages her after - she thought the lives of the sheep people were the price to pay for the Iron throne, and she keeps taking and taking and taking to reach her goal. How much more she will take before this is done?

As it goes the rites go like this:

Daenerys sacrifices (unknowingly, to which point unclear) Rhaego ➡️ to save Drogo;

After she sacrifices (knowingly) Drogo (whom she kills), Mirri (whom she orders the death of and kills, by pouring the oil over her head and lighting the pyre to which she has had her strapped) and herself (she walks into the flames) ➡️ she gets the three dragons.

Guest star the stallion, the stallion sacrifice and her willing immolation may have ensured that she came back as well.

And this rebirth of sorts due blood-magic is also proved by another quote said about Daenerys in the very text:

[...] Daenerys is quite different." He popped a roasted lark into his mouth and crunched it noisily, bones and all. "The frightened child who sheltered in my manse died on the Dothraki sea, and was reborn in blood and fire. This dragon queen who wears her name is a true Targaryen. When I sent ships to bring her home, she turned toward Slaver's Bay. In a short span of days she conquered Astapor, made Yunkai bend the knee, and sacked Meereen. Mantarys will be next, if she marches west along the old Valyrian roads. If she comes by sea, well … her fleet must take on food and water at Volantis."

Tyrion II, ADWD

Strange they would point out how she's different than Viserys and mad king Aerys, but then comment on how she is a true Targaryen because she conquered Astapor, made Yunkai bend the knee and sacked Meereen to Tyrion of all people. Just to say, Aerys and Viserys were not the worst of the Targaryens and there is not just one way to be bad.

She herself has become a chimera of sorts:

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

So, Daenerys was always ready, from book 1, to use unprecedented measures after the valyrian blowed up in the air when Valyria fell to get to her goal. And that sounds more like the origin story of a villain than that of a hero, and it is not a wonder that when another human gets risen from death using blood magic like Beric does with Lady Stoneheart she is a mother and is ready to do whatever it takes without remorse to avenge her children.

Let's sit tight and wait to see if indeed rising from death like I think Daenerys, Lady Stoneheart and Jon do means to hype up what are already their core values and traits. A mother in Lady Stoneheart, a defender of House Stark (he gets killed because he wants to ride south to save his sister fake Arya Stark) for Jon and a true Targaryen for Daenerys.

At that point would it be surprising if she really went all show on the book canon as well and burned KL in righteous fury?

Asks pertaining this post (in chronological order)

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#daenerys stormborn #dark daenerys targaryen #meta #blood magic and choice #daenerys Targaryen critical

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pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Santa Daddy | Jean Kirstein x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Daddy kink, dirty talk, thigh riding, mutual pining, friends to lovers (or, rather, idiots to lovers), lots of holiday fluff

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is my Secret Santa gift to @whats-her-quirk 🎄💕 June, thank you so much for being a wonderful friend; I was truly lucky and privileged to get you as my Elf for Secret Santa! I hope this fluffy (and dirty) little fic with our best boi Jean brings you some holiday cheer!

There were only a few things in the world that made you happier than watching Jean Kirstein smile. Like most of your friends, you’d met him through work, but there was always something so special, almost magical, about seeing his darling smile and hearing his boisterous laugh. And you rarely passed up on a chance to see delight spread across his handsome face, which is why you couldn’t say no when he asked you to join him on a get-a-away with your friends for the holidays.

The inquiry came after you mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to make it home for the holidays due to a winter storm blowing in. It would be the second season in a row that the weather kept you from visiting home.

You could still hear his voice in your head, “alone? For Christmas?”

He’d then insisted you join him and his friends at Sasha’s family cabin. It was tradition for them, a gathering of misfits finding communion together out in the wilderness for a few days before the new year. You had taken trips with your friends before to amusement parks, festivals, even to the beach at Armin’s request, but something about being invited to an intimate setting to celebrate holiday traditions had you anxious.

So, there you were, swaddled in blankets, listening to Eren bicker with Mikasa while Sasha and Connie bustled in the kitchen to make eggnog and treats. Armin had declined to join, citing that he’d seen too many horror movies about young adults alone in cabins to feel comfortable making the trip.

And, true to form, Jean was running late. He was always late, his mind constantly moving a mile a minute unless he consigned himself to much needed rest and relaxation. Though, this time, you felt a little lonely while waiting for him on the couch, like there was a small part of you missing as you watched the snow fall outside.

“So, none of you guys go home for the holidays?” You looked over toward the modest, plastic tree that Sasha had thrown down from her attic to bring a little holiday cheer to the living room, a few poorly wrapped presents and bags nestled under the branches.

“Well,” Eren cleared his throat, “we are orphans.” He pulled at Mikasa’s scarf for emphasis.

“Oh fuck, yeah, sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t worry about, he just always brings it up to get sympathy gifts.” Mikasa sighed, jerking the red cloth from his hands and scowling. Eren only laughed, brushing a stray hair from his face that had come loose from the bun at his nape.

You sunk a little deeper into the cushions, eyes glancing out the window in hopes you’d see headlights flash in the driveway.

“Do you think Jean’s okay? He should’ve been here a while ago and the storm is getting closer.”

“Jean, Jean, Jean,” Sasha trotted into the room, balancing a mountain of sweet-smelling cookies on a plate, “you’re always worried about him.”

“Someone should be, guy’s an idiot.” Eren chimed in, green eyes shining from the low flames rolling in the fireplace. He and Mikasa were sitting in the floor, a game of checkers spread out before them, with more stolen pieces resting near the cunning Ackerman’s side of the board.

Eren wasn’t wrong, but over the years you’d known your group of friends, you’d noticed just how much the man in question had grown. In his early twenties, Jean had been quite the bumbling fool, having literally met you by bumping into your shoulder while leaving work, only to look at you and mumble “god you’re beautiful,” before issuing a quick apology as he rubbed at his neck sheepishly. You’d never mentioned the moment again, though your stomach still churned with a slight thrill every time you thought about it.

But over the years he’d managed to turn that puerility into something much more charming. He was more refined, almost infuriatingly suave, easily gaining attention from anyone and everyone. And though you sometimes hated to admit it, he’d captured your thoughts as well.

You kept your budding crush on Jean Kirstein close to your chest, not admitting it to any of your close friends. You always figured he was out of your league, seeing that he had a new, more beautiful girlfriend just about every other month. But, despite your simmering feelings, you still allowed yourself to get closer and closer to him over the years—some might say he’s your best friend, but you might call him your most treasured vexation.

Another hour or so went by, your time spent nibbling at cookies and reminiscing with everyone about another year passed.

Then the door finally opened, cold air gusting into the small living room as Jean stomped his damp boots on the entry mat.

“Have you guys opened presents yet?”

You glanced over the back of the couch, heart tugging in your chest as you noticed snow dusted in his long hair and a sizeable red and white polka dot package in his hands.

“No because Christmas is tomorrow, or did you forget that too?” Connie said it with crumbs in his mouth, feet kicked up on the coffee table.

Jean laughed, running a hand through his hair before wrapping the gift in his arms like it was something valuable.

“I know, I know, and sorry I’m late, had something important to go get.” He smiled, bright and cheery, hazel eyes bouncing between his friends and the carefully guarded box, “I ask because…uh, this needs to be opened kind of soon.”

“Is it perishable?” Sasha perked up, already ready to go make room in the fridge if something delectable was waiting as a gift.

“I mean…you could say that? It may or may not be alive.” He was laughing, that kind of infectious laughter that had everyone in the room grinning whether they wanted to or not.

Jean didn’t set the present down to even take off his shoes, instead tracking snow in with him and plopping onto the couch with flurries still on shoulders. He nudged your knee with his, pushing the present toward you. You pressed your lips together, hands getting sweaty as you pieced the puzzle together.

“Is that…?”

“Yeah,” his grin was pulling at his cheeks, eyes so sincere and happy and it almost startled you, “it’s for you.”

The top of the box moved, the green bow popping on top of the polka dots.

You moved the gift into your lap, pulling off the top to find perky ears and green eyes peering up at you—a kitten, grey and striped, with long, white whiskers and a pink bow around its neck greeted you with muted curiosity. You just stared at it for a moment, and it stared back, like you were both wondering just how it got into your lap.

“I just,” Jean was getting nervous, carding his fingers through his hair again as he waited for your reaction, “I wanted to make sure you’d never spend another holiday alone, you know?”

You carefully picked up the little cat, watching how it stretched and yawned as you pulled it from the carefully lain blanket inside its temporary home.

You smiled, pulling the warm little bundle to your chest.

“Um, Jean, this cat has six toes on her paws,” you said, pressing your thumb gently against one of the extra appendages in question.

“Six toes?!” Sasha was jumping up from her seat, bounding over to kneel in front of you and pluck one of the kitten’s paws into her fingers. The cat quickly pulled its paw back, little black toe beans curling to its chest.

“Yeah, it’s what drew me to her. She’s extra special…” you could’ve sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, a little musing of “just like you,” but any hushed murmur was overshadowed by the ohs and ahs of your friends gathering around to look at the adorable little creature.

The kitten had been lulled to sleep by the car ride from the shelter to the cabin, content to just curl up in your arms as inquisitive fingers prodded at her little kitten mittens and the silky, white tufts in her ears. Even Mikasa was enraptured by the tiny animal, taking the time to retie the little pink ribbon around her neck to make a bigger, prettier bow.

You noticed how your friends were whispering, cheeky grins pressed against eager ears as they looked between you, the precious kitten, and Jean on the couch. You were starting to feel like you were missing something, or maybe that you were at the end of a joke you hadn’t caught on to yet.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Jean after the fuss died down, everyone returning to their seats and back to their previous fixations.

You’d mentioned perhaps wanting a cat a few weeks ago; it was just a silly, off-hand comment you made over coffee about how you’d once read that people with cats live longer because they pick up on the nine-lives of their feline partner. You didn’t believe it to be true, but you’d mused about the idea of having a cute kitten of your own to snuggle up with on lonely nights.

“I know it’s sudden and a lot of responsibility, so if you don’t want her—”

“No,” you cut Jean off, bundling the kitten a little closer in your arms, your heart singing as you felt her start to purr, “no, I want her, she’s perfect.”

Jean finally started to get settled himself, standing up and shrugging off his jacket. He was in a tight turtleneck, coal black threads stretched to their limit across his broad chest and shoulders, hugging his trim waist. You were careful not to stare for too long as he stretched his arms above his head to shake off the weariness of his drive through the snow.

He always looked like he stepped out of a fashion catalogue, fresh and so put together that sometimes you were tempted to snap his photo when he wasn’t looking; he just looked that good all the time. He loved to wear designer clothes and keep up with the latest menswear trends, and tonight was no different, that beautiful black turtleneck (that was covered in grey fur) undoubtedly belonging to a designer whose name you probably couldn’t pronounce.

“What are you gonna name her?”

He sat a little closer this time on the couch, a brawny arm outstretched behind you as he leaned over to scratch at the kitten’s chin.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, gazing down at the serene, sleepy face in your arms, “I’ll have to get to know her first.”

“Well, I’ve been calling her Frankie.”

“Frankie?” You smiled through your confusion, the name sounding oddly right.

“She was pretty wild in the car and kept meowing when Frank Sinatra was on the radio.”

“I see,” you laid the kitten down into your lap, sweeping your fingers through her fur and watching as she curled up into a tighter little circle, “well, I’ll consider it.”

You felt warm, heavy fingers brush against the back of your neck, Jean absentmindedly painting figure eights into your prickling skin. Heat flushed to your face as you realized just how close your bodies had become—his thigh was pressed against your own, dark jeans tight and hot, the scruff of his cheeks brushing against your own as he toyed with the sleeping cat’s tail.

There were voices all around you, the muffled sounds of your friends relaxing together falling almost on deaf ears. Your whole world felt like it just revolved around this couch, like nothing else mattered beyond the simple touches to your skin and the drowsy kitten beneath your hands. He never wanted you to spend another holiday alone, you replayed his words, the sweet sentiment finally settling into your spirit.

_______________

You could tell everyone was starting to get a bit sleepy, a few hours spent drinking spiked eggnog and chasing the new kitten around with a feather toy having left you especially exhausted. Your head was a little swimmy as you bid everyone goodnight, the grey tabby cat following closely on your heels to your bedroom where Jean had already brought in a litter box and a bed for her to sleep in. Jean, underneath all the designer bravado and smiles, was perhaps the most thoughtful person you knew.

But despite the heaviness in your head, you couldn’t seem to sleep. You tossed and turned in the bed, occasionally picking up your phone to scroll through it or just watch the time tick by. You had a lot of thoughts mulling around in your mind, most of them revolving around the man sleeping just right across the hall.

Never in a million years did you expect Jean to walk in with a beautiful, perfect kitten as a gift. The little thing was back to sleeping again, this time curled around one of your feet, each exhale a little purr against your toes.

You’d carried the weight of this crush around for too many years. You rubbed your palms against your eyes, sighing as you came to terms with your feelings for Jean for what felt like the thousandth time. Your pining was starting to take its toll, too, what with the sleeping giant so close yet so far away.

And you still felt like you were missing something.

Throughout the night, your friends had seemingly been playing coy, teasing Jean about getting you such a big, sentimental gift. Maybe they had all caught wind of your suppressed feelings and were poking at Jean for even daring to indulge you. Now you were just getting frustrated with your thoughts, sighing as you tried to squeeze your eyes shut and force yourself to sleep.

But then you heard a little sound, the soft buzz of your phone against the wood of the night stand.

Jean: You awake?

Your heart skipped a little in your chest as you saw his name flash upon your screen. You texted him nearly every day, yet he never failed to send a little jolt of adrenaline down your spine.

You: Yeah. Can’t sleep.

Jean: Me either. Cabin is too fucking cold.

You: I have a kitty asleep on my feet, definitely helps beat the chill.

Jean: A warm kitty sounds nice right now.

Only a few seconds passed before the next message appeared.

Jean: Wanna come keep me company?

Your thumb hovered over the keyboard for a moment, your mind not even thinking about the words in front of you. Instead, you were picturing Jean in his bed, hair tussled with his own phone in his hand as he texted you, light spilling over his bare chest in the dark. You wondered what he was thinking—maybe he just wanted you to bring the cat over to see him for a bit, or maybe his mind was wandering in the same place yours was, which was picturing him naked beneath his sheets.

You set the phone down, momentarily starting to panic.

You hadn’t prepared for this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility that Jean might be asking you to come get in his fucking bed with him. Thank god you took a leisurely shower earlier—and you still smelled good, you checked.

You stood up from the bed, watching the kitten stretch and quickly fall back asleep on top of the blankets. You bent down to slip on your pajama pants, but then found yourself debating if you should just leave the flimsy material behind.

If this was what you were hoping it was, walking in without pants would send the “I got the hint, I’m here to fuck,” message loud and clear.

But if this was just “hey pal come keep me company, I’m bored,” walking into his room in nothing but a shirt and panties could be quite awkward.

You decided to hedge your bets, stuffing your pajama bottoms back into your bag as that lingering liquid courage from the eggnog set in. If worse came to worse, you could always say you forgot to pack them.

You carefully closed the door behind you, making sure the cat didn’t follow.

Then, it was literally just a few steps to Jean’s room. Conveniently, his door was cracked. Did he get up and leave it open for you? Did he always sleep with his door cracked? Or had he planned all along to ask you to come over?

You shook your head, taking a deep breath. Those inessential thoughts needed to be quieted.

The door creaked as you slid past it, the old hinges signaling your arrival and making Jean’s attention whip towards you. His phone was still in his hand, like was watching your messages and too-eagerly anticipating your reply.

“Hey,” you whispered into the darkness, wincing as the door kept groaning as you pushed it shut behind you. You leaned against it for a moment, too nervous to just waltz up to his bed and fall in. You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you waited for him to break the silence.

“Aren’t you cold?” He whispered back, shifting in the bed.

His figure was illuminated by the pale, grey light from window, the snow clouds still keeping the moon suppressed in the sky. Like you’d imagined, he was shirtless, all those hard-earned muscles on display from where he was propped up on his elbows, sheets low against his waist.

“I thought you were cold, Mr. No Shirt.”

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“I’m not wearing pants,” you parroted back.

You watched the smile spread across his face, that darling, infuriatingly pretty smile that made you a little too happy in this moment.

He pulled his sheets back in invitation, revealing that he, too, was not wearing pants, only clad in blue boxer briefs that were sinfully tight around his upper thighs, etchings of Calvin Klein pressed against his lower stomach.

His hands were on you before you even settled onto the mattress, warm and greedy and pulling you flush against his body. All those worried thoughts you had before vanished under his touch, the message you had been missing suddenly loud and clear: you weren’t the only one hiding your feelings. All those veiled emotions came alive beneath wandering hands, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders as his found the flesh of your thighs.

“Was this what you were thinking about when you invited me here?”

You breathed in the smell of his warm skin as you settled against him, notes of his cologne still lingering against his body.

“This is what I think about all the time,” he confessed, nudging his thigh between your legs.

You couldn’t stop the moan that fell from your mouth as the muscles of his thigh pressed against your aching core.

“Me too,” you were pulling his face down to yours, thumbs against his cheeks as you pressed your lips to his.

A satisfied sound rang from both of your throats, lips melding and slanting against one another hungrily.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His words were lost within the kiss, being swallowed down as you kept drinking him in.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You echoed back, gasping as his hands slid underneath your shirt and began to wander across your belly, reaching up toward your ribcage.

You both knew the answer to that: you were idiots, too scared to admit feelings even though they were clearly on display for everyone around you. But now the question didn’t matter, all the answers you wanted about to be shared between your anxious bodies with starved kisses and touches.

You shamelessly pressed yourself a little harder against his thigh, sighing as your pussy found relief against his leg. He groaned at your action, moving his thigh back and forth a little bit to see how you would react. When you whimpered, your own thighs squeezing around his, he smirked, repeating the motion of sweeping his thick, sturdy thigh back and forth between your legs.

“You like that?” His head was tilting down, teeth nipping at your jaw and down your neck as your head fell back against the pillow.

“Y-yes, feels so good.”

His hands were still traveling, wandering across your heated skin like he wanted to map your curves into his memory. He groaned against your throat when he discovered you’d also forgotten to wear anything under your t-shirt, his thumbs lazily brushing the undersides of your breasts.

You felt like you were burning beneath his sheets, like he was painting fire against your skin with every touch. His large hands engulfed your breasts, carefully kneading and rolling your soft flesh in his palms. He was eager to kiss you again, to slip his tongue past your parted lips and get addicted to your taste.

Jean pinched and pulled at your hardening nipples, greedily taking your little mewls into his mouth. He touched you like he already knew you, pulling at your body like you were the perfect little sex doll on strings for him to play with; rocking you on his thigh, tugging at your nipples, tongue dancing in your mouth, his hair tickling your cheeks, his cock hard and hot against his stomach.

Your panties were getting more and more wet by the second, the soaked material sinking into your folds as you rubbed yourself against the downy hairs and rounded, solid muscle of his upper thigh. His boxer briefs were bunching closer to his hips, pre-cum already staining against the fabric where his cock was imprinted into the threads. You slipped your hand down his impressive chest, fingers dipping into the elastic of his briefs.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned against your lips, pulling back to suck in a breath as your fingertips brushed against the head of his cock, “fuck you’re so hot riding my thigh like that, so fucking wet.”

“You did say you wanted a warm kitty.”

Your words had him pinching harder at your nipples, making you gasp as he chuckled.

“Mhm I can’t wait to play with your kitty, make you mine,” he punctuated his sentence by bouncing his leg up, sending electric pulses of pleasure racing over your nerves.

You responded by pulling his cock from its confines, wrapping your fingers around it and tugging at the silken skin. God he was thick, barely fitting in your palm as you moved your wrist up and down. You suddenly felt so small against him, realizing that he was dwarfing you just by lying next to you in the bed. His long, thick fingers could spread across the entirety of your chest, the thigh sliding against your pussy was enormous, but it felt like it belonged there; you could get used to riding him like this.

You both fell into a frenzied, delirious rhythm, your bodies bucking and panting as you found bliss against each other.

His hands slid down your body, leaving your tender breasts and searching for a new home. He found your hips, fingers digging into your skin as he rocked you back and forth against his thigh himself, using the strength in his forearms to have your pussy pressed down against him in the most perfect way to have you seeing stars and whining his name.

“Gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum just from riding me?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes, please, make me cum like this.”

Your hand had gone slack against his cock, your mind almost unable to concentrate under the waves of pleasure building and coiling inside you.

It felt too good to have his rapacious hands on your hips, grip mean and tight as he basically fucked you against his thigh. You wanted to scream, your other hand clawing at the back of his neck for stability.

“Baby,” he breathed, peppering a few kisses along your cheek, “could…could you call me daddy when you cum?”

There was a hesitancy in his voice, like he was ashamed to ask such a thing.

Your lower belly clenched, heat racing across all your nerve endings like he’d just poured sin straight out of his mouth.

You nodded your head for him, uncontrollable moans and gasps getting in the way of your own words. The thought of calling him daddy, that sent something wicked down to your pussy, had your fingers squeezing and tugging at his cock again and your eyes falling shut.

It felt like your sanity was breaking, like reality was splintering and this wasn’t real—you were dreaming again, weren’t you? But then you felt his cock twitch in your hand, felt your swollen clit brush against your panties and his thigh, and you were thrusted back into the actuality of your situation. You were with Jean, he was groaning in your ear, and you were about to cum all over him.

“D—da…,” you were choking, so overwhelmed with a final cresting of bliss that you almost felt like sobbing.

But he just clutched you more tightly, pressed you harder against him, whispering your name in encouragement to let yourself go for him.

Then, you lost all of your sensibilities, euphoria washing over your body as you snapped and came undone with a little whine of, “daddy,” against his lips. You slowed the rocking of your hips, your heart beating out of your chest, your pussy pulsing and clenching as you rode out the last remnants of your orgasm.

“Holy fucking shit that’s so hot, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, one of his hands smoothing against your cheek.

“Wha—,” you smiled, shaking your head as you caught your breath, “what are you doing with a daddy kink, Jean?”

He mimicked your smile, hands moving to slide your ruined panties down your legs and removed the rest of your clothing as he repositioned your bodies. You let him move you around like a ragdoll, so delirious in your afterglow that you barely even registered how he was hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

“Do you not like calling me daddy?” There was a seriousness laced into his tone that told you he’d drop it if it made you uncomfortable.

“I like it,” you fisted one of your hands in his hair, bringing his lips to yours for a slow, messy kiss, “just didn’t expect it.”

“I’m full of surprises, baby.”

You felt the head of his cock nudge between your wet folds, his hands back on your hips where they belonged. Your head fell back against the pillow as he started to push inside of you, stretching your walls and making your toes go almost numb from the pleasure. You felt like you were splitting apart, like a fissure was forming down the middle of your body, stemming from where he was spearing into you.

With your legs on his broad shoulders, he was pushing you into the mattress, his hands urging your hips to relax and let him sink into your warm heat.

“Ohhhh fuckkkk daddy,” you couldn’t help but to whine, all your senses suddenly overwhelmed again. You were drowning in him, falling deeper and deeper into the throes of heaven with every inch of his fat cock slipping inside of you.

“God you’re so tight,” he presses his forehead to yours, keen eyes watching how your lips were falling apart and your eyebrows scrunching together in pleasure, “that’s right, daddy’s going to take such good care of you.”

It felt like all your history with him was being wiped away, like this moment wasn’t about two friends fulfilling all their years of mutual pining, but instead about a new relationship blooming between two bodies full of lust and desire. This was about Jean fucking you senseless, about him taking control and finally having what’s belonged to him for longer than he probably even realized. You wanted to lose yourself to him, lose yourself to his appetite and just let him devour you.

All the air left your lungs when bottomed out inside of you, your walls clenching and sucking him in. He stayed still for a moment, nearly lost himself at the feeling of your cunt wrapped so tightly around his cock.

“So fucking perfect,” he groaned, dragging his cock out of you slowly before pressing in again, your cunt greedily sucking him back in.

“I always have been,” you teased, one hand lost in his hair while the other slid down the expanse of his back. You bucked your hips in his hands, coaxing him to keep moving.

“Oh fuck. Good girl.”

His praise made you feel drunk, liquid heat rushing to your ears and between your legs.

He began to snap his hips, repeatedly burying his cock into your depths, the angle of your body making him hit that fleshy patch inside of you. You cried out at the feeling of being so stuffed, your walls burning from the intrusion but that coil inside your belly tightening again, hotter and more intense than before.

“Mhmmm, such a good girl, I promise,” you pressed your lips to his in reassurance, letting your breathy moans fall into his mouth as he started to get a little rougher. His pace was steady, solid, a hard motion of his cock thrusting in and out of you, each push and pull full of purpose and passion. Every plunge was making your lower stomach spasm, making pleasure burst across your body so forcefully that you felt that urge to cry again.

“Wanted to fuck you for so long,” his face was tucked underneath your chin, mouth trailing across your throat between his words. A particularly hard suck against your neck had your back arching, breasts flattening against his chest and your nails clinging to him.

Jean sat back on his knees, big hands smoothing down your thighs as he looked to where your bodies were conjoined, watching how your pussy enveloped his cock with every thrust of his hips, sweet skin encasing all of his length. He looked enraptured by the sight, groaning and hissing every time he pressed inside of you.

Then his eyes were flashing up to your face, softening as he took note of your blissed-out state, your face flushed and your lip between your teeth.

“So pretty,” he mused, a palm ghosting up to your chest to toy with one of your tits as he found a new rhythm.

You were ensnared by the scene before you as well, eyes wide with delight as you admired the man before you. Jean felt unhinged, electric between your legs, like he’d finally let go and was pouring all his clandestine secrets into your willing body. His chestnut hair was swept over his shoulders, the muscles in his arms and across his body rolling, rounded and thick like he was marble come to life. And his face was smooth, pretty, concentrated, cheeks dusky with a dark blush as he found euphoria from within your body.

Your hips began to match his thrusts, bucking up into him in order to feel his thick cock fall deeper into you. His strong hands encouraged you, gripping into the supple flesh of your thighs as he pressed himself into your wetness, faster and faster with every thrust.

“Daddy,” you called out to him, having to bite back a grin as you observed how quickly you earned his attention, “you feel s-so good,” your hand was traveling down your chest, trailing over his fingers on your breast before snaking down to your clit, “p-please let me cum again.”

You had an inkling that he would take over for you.

His thick, long fingers hovered over your own, carefully aiding in swirling over your aching clit. You hissed, recognizing the buildup to orgasm pooling within your belly.

Jean’s other hand slid higher upon your body, fingers lacing around your ribcage, framing the underside of your breast. He began to forcefully pull your body into his, sliding you upon and down the sheets and upon his cock. You cried out, legs tightening at his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, begging him to devour you and take what he wanted. His thumb was almost impatient on your clit, now circling so quickly that your body was shaking, lower stomach clenching and unclenching repeatedly like you were lost in a reckless tide.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last with you squeezing me like that, baby.”

Your mouth watered at the thought of him finding that ultimate pleasure inside of you. Your ears became tuned to the chorus of resonances between your legs, the sweet, wet sounds of skin against skin, of slick at the base of a fat cock, of Jean grunting your name like a lost prayer.

The final chord of your sanity was threatening to snap, you could feel it again, like he was pulling the strings of your body too tightly and you were going to splinter and break with just the right swipe of his thumb.

“I-inside,” you mewled, unable to keep your eyes open any longer as your thighs began to quake, “daddy—oh fuck, fuck—cum inside me, please,”

God you were so fucking close to falling off the edge, and he could feel it, using his grip to bring you even harder and faster down onto your cock to get you careening and falling again.

Your push into oblivion came when you heard him pleading, almost whining, above you, sweat dripping down his skin as his syllables flowed together, “please, please, please, fuck, cum for daddy, cum for me, please.”

You could both feel it, how you creamed around his cock, pussy sucking him in so deliciously tight that it caused him to lose all control. His fingers dug a little too deep, his cock throbbing and pumping deep inside of you with his release. It was like the world went quiet, like a blanket of snow fell onto your bodies and hushed your sounds and cooled your skin. You could feel the heavy weight of him inside of you, like he was meant to be there. Your body relaxed, feeling like you were sinking into the mattress and he was the only thing keeping you from being lost.

When he finally pulled his spent cock from inside you, he wasn’t gone long. His hands were back on you again, pulling you in for simple, affectionate kisses and rubbing tenderly at the places he’d perhaps explored too roughly.

“Jean…” you cut yourself off with a yawn, fatigued limbs winding into his own.

His thigh found its home between your legs again, both of you groaning with a mixture of lust and disgust as you felt his cum drip into a mess between your thighs.

“Whatever it is can wait until morning, we need to sleep.”

“Oh fuck, it’s Christmas.”

He nuzzled your cheek, lips searching for yours.

“Mhmm, Merry Christmas, baby.”

You laughed, laying your head against his chest.

_______________

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it felt like you spent a small eternity in Jean’s bed before your eyes opened again. When you awoke, he was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with the kitten in his arms. She was ready to play, striped tail swishing as he dangled a toy mouse just out of her reach.

“What time is it?” You stretched, suddenly all too aware that you were still very naked beneath the sheets.

“It’s only eight, everyone else is still asleep aside from Mikasa who actually went for a run in the fucking snow.”

Jean smiled, hair tucked behind his ears, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized just how madly in love with him you were. You always aimed to make him smile, to hear him laugh, but to see him gazing at you in the morning sun with pure adoration shining in his hazel eyes had you practically melting into the bed.

“I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, turning the kitten loose to run across the bed.

“You said a lot of things last night, daddy,” you teased, watching his cheeks turn a pretty pink at the mention of that name.

“I meant about you never spending another holiday alone. Because, you know, I’d like to…” he trailed off, rubbing at the back of his neck like he was genuinely nervous.

You sat up, running a hand down his arm before kissing at his shoulder, momentarily getting lost in the smell and feel of him.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

No one was surprised that the two of you, and the kitten, spent every single holiday together thereafter, mostly naked, and always smiling.

#jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #aot jean #aot jean kirstein #snk jean #snk jean kirstein #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk #aot fanfiction #aot x reader #aot #jean aot #jean kirstein fanfic

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dollslayer · 3 years

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Botanical Interest - Thorns

Soft!Mob!Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: After dating the notable mobster Steve Rogers for a couple months you think you’ve got him figured out. An altercation in an alley leaves you questioning whether or not that’s true.

W/C: 1995

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, swearing

A/N: Holy smokes! I am completely overwhelmed by the love that the first part to this story has received. Obviously, I couldn’t help myself so I wrote a part 2 also as an entry for @stargazingfangirl18 ‘s 5k soft dark challenge! Using the Mob!Au and the dialogue prompt “Oh, Honey, you weren’t supposed to see that”.

If you want you can check out part one here and my other mob fic here! Cheers!

Botanical Interest Masterlist I Main Masterlist

______________________________ 6pm was fast approaching as you began to close up shop for the day. Steve was here to pick you up for dinner and much to your embarrassment walked in on you having a very difficult conversation argument with a very difficult customer over pricing and promotion. Having run your small business on your own for years you knew how to hold your own but you completely froze when you saw Steve enter the shop out of the corner of your eye.

“I- listen Mr. Andersen, I appreciate all the business that your venues have given me but I can’t afford a raise in advertising prices right now. I’ve been reliable and trustworthy and I’ve always treated your venues with respect. I’ve never been an issue for you, please don’t raise the rate. Wedding season is coming up and I need the exposure.”

You tried to bargain with him quietly, hoping the music overhead would prevent Steve from hearing but it was a low volume and a small shop. You’ve only been dating for a couple months. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of him, especially not at work.

Mr. Andersen exhaled sharply. You could tell he was annoyed at you for the pushback. “Look, I’m sorry but we can’t be making exceptions every time a business owner comes groveling.”

Tears stung your eyes, you really did generate a lot of business through Andersen’s venues. They listed you as one of their recommended vendors to their clients, it’s been huge for you. Knowing that Steve was there made this even worse. “If I’d have known you were going to cry like this I would’ve just done it over email I mean really-”

“That’s enough.” Steve cut him off before he could humiliate you any further. He sent a quick text and shoved his phone back in his pocket before pulling himself to his gull height and squaring his shoulders. “You’ve done enough, now get out.”

A scoff from Andersen and a harsh glare directed towards you and he was on his way out of the building. Steve’s phone vibrated but he didn’t check it. Instead he walked over to you and extended his arm to rub your back.

“Are you okay? That guy was a total fucking prick to you, you don’t deserve that.” Steve consoled you. He seemed calmer than you expected for having just witnessed something like that. You’ve seen him agitated but never upset. Maybe he was restraining himself for you but it didn’t matter, you appreciate him being there for you.

“I’m fine, I just need to finish closing up shop and we can get to dinner. Just give me a minute” you said as you began to sweep up.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’m double parked so I’m gonna go to the car and try to find a space.” You nodded as hummed along to the music.

____________________________

As Steve left the shop he pulled his phone out and checked his text from Thor ‘we got him’. When Steve heard that man talk to you like that he knew you didn’t want him to threaten Andersen and make the situation worse. You were already on the verge of tears so he decided to ask one of his men to hold Andersen out back where he could have a few words with him.

Stepping around the corner into the alley behind your shop he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He needed to be quick so you wouldn’t find out. He didn’t want to upset you further, he just wanted this guy to know that you can’t treat his girl like that. And maybe he could be talked into giving her the advertising for free.

“So you think you can talk to my girl like that huh?” He questioned. Andersen looked like Thor had already punched him once in the process of restraining him. Thor’s hold on Andersen’s arms tightened.

Andersen was scared, but not scared enough to Steve’s liking. Before Andersen had the opportunity to answer Steve cocked his fist back and launched it directly to Andersen’s jaw. “Shit! I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We’re expanding and we need the money so I have to raise-”

Before the excuse could be finished Steve hit him again. “Stop! Please!” Andersen begged.

Steve chuckled. “No I don’t think I will. I can’t just let people go every time they grovel to me. They’d never learn.” Another punch landed.

“You’re not gonna raise your prices for her. In fact, you’re gonna call her up in a couple days and apologize by offering her advertising free of charge for all of your venues. Do you understand?” Steve asked coolly.

Andersen coughed up some blood. “I- I can offer her half price but I can’t just waive the cost like that!”

“Not good enough.” Steve punched him even harder, Andersen was nearly knocked out. Steve thought about the tears that slipped from his girl’s eye and couldn’t stop himself. He struck Andersen one more time with a growl and his head hung limp between his shoulders. Just then he heard the sound of shattering glass behind him and froze, hand still in a fist.

_____________________________________

Finally done with most of your tasks all you had to do was take out the garbage and empty the vase of leftover stems from bouquets into the dumpster. You opened the back door just in time to see Steve land a brutal punch to Mr. Andersen’s cheekbone. Mr. Andersen’s head fell and it was clear he had been knocked out cold.

You hadn’t even realized you’d dropped the vase until you felt the shards fall around your feet. You couldn’t look away when Steve looked up at you with wild eyes, you’d never seen him so angry. You felt the way you did the day you met him. Nervous and frozen in place.

His face instantly fell and through his heavy breathing said “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” He was trying to relax his features as he approached you but you could only take steps back and into the shop like a scared animal being cornered.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and you couldn’t tell if you were more angry or scared. You held your hands out in front of you and stammered “I’d better.. I need to lock up shop I’ll um, I’ll go”. “Sweetheart wait!” Too late. You shut the back door and locked it behind you.

You went to your back office and sat down, not even sure where to go from here with this. You two had talked about his work a bit, it wasn’t like it could be avoided forever, you just didn’t think he’d bring it into yours. You weren’t scared of Steve doing something like that to you, you were scared of that look in his eyes. His capability of doing something like that with little thought.

Oh, God, what does this mean for the shop? Mr. Andersen will have you blacklisted. He’ll tell every wedding planner in Brooklyn. Now your heart was hammering for a whole other set of reasons. Too busy spiraling as you thought about it all you didn’t hear the bell of the front door ring.

A knock on your open office door pulled you out of it and you looked up to find Steve. He wore what looked like a truly regretful expression on his face. You fought the urge to yell at him. You’re an adult, you’re going to talk about this like adults. Let him say his piece.

He had straightened up, his hands were clean and his jacket was back on. He gave a heavy sigh. “Sweetheart, I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sorry you had to see that side of me, but I want you to know I would never ever do anything like that to you or anyone close to you. I only want what’s best for you.”

“And that’s punching one of my main sources of income?” You snapped. You appreciated the apology but you were getting too worked up in anger thinking about the future of the shop.

He was a little miffed at the outburst and became defensive. “That man disrespected you, disrespected your work. No one talks like that to my girl. That’s how we settle things in my world!”

“Well you’re not in your mob world right now you’re in mine! And things don’t get handled like that! Do you have any idea the toll that could take on my business? He’s gonna have me blacklisted by the end of the day if he wakes up.” The last words came out a bit broken as you felt more tears build. You were more worried about the business than anything.

Steve walked around the desk to console you just like he had not twenty minutes ago. He gently put a hand on your forearm. “You’re right. It’s not my world, it wasn’t my call to make and I had no right to react like that. I didn’t even think about that. The way he was talking to you, I just.. I got so mad. You work so hard and you don’t deserve that. Sometimes I forget there’s more than one way to handle things.”

Okay, that went better than expected. This is what made Steve so interesting to you. Steve was funny and sweet and charming as hell, but beyond all that there was this tender heart. He was dangerous but he was also fiercely loyal. He was more than a mobster and he was better than the brute force he used. It’s why you were able to accept that part of him, because it wasn’t his entire life, it didn’t consume him.

“Thank you for saying that,” You said quietly. You looked up to him and could tell that he really did feel bad. “I accept your apology and I appreciate it. But you have to make things right with Mr. Andersen. I’ll pay the new rate but you have to apologize before it’s too late.”

_________________________

Steve was beginning to harbor resentment towards himself for fucking this up for you. Andersen just made him see red, he has such a hard time shutting that part of himself down. You work so hard and care so much there’s just no way he could let that stand. He just hoped to work through it and move on. He really didn’t wanna screw it up.

Steve was much more at ease knowing you accepted his apology. “I won’t like it but I can do that. It’s only fair. Can I make it up to you over dinner? We’ll make a quick stop to the hospital to set things straight with Andersen.” When you shut the door in his face in the alley he had Thor take him to the hospital. He’d call another town car to get home.

He’ll apologize to Andersen and pay the hospital bill, but you’re not paying the increased rate. No way. Steve will pay him off enough that he won’t be telling anyone about the altercation, either. Win-win in his eyes.

You leaned your head against his shoulder in slight exhaustion and nodded. “Can we forget the reservation? I really want breakfast food right now.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. “Of course sweetheart, you wanna get takeout and go back to mine?” He felt you nod. “Yes, please”.

“Let me just order a car and we’ll be on our way. I’m sorry again, sweetheart, I promise I’m gonna make it right even if that guy’s a douche.” You laughed a little bit and wiped the few tears that stayed in your eyes.

“So.... your girl, huh? Is that like some mob slang term I don’t know about? Are we official?”

A smile graced his lips. “I’d like to be, if you would.”

You smiled back at him. “I might be persuaded with waffles.”

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