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erikamariapell · 2 years

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Fexi Oneshot Request!!

Their first date, but Ash has to tag along hahaha

This was not the plan.

This was actually the furthest thing from the plan that he could possibly imagine.

“We gettin’ food on this bitch right?”

Fez squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to ignore the 13 year old drug dealer currently sitting comfortably in his back seat.

Today was supposed to be perfect, it was his first date with Lexi and he’d been planning this shit for two weeks now, finally finding a day they were both free and available to have an honest to god, actual, date. He’d been looking forward to this damn date since she’d agreed and he’d had all kinds of plans set in place to make it a night she would never forget.

“I’d fuck up a Burger King whopper right now.” Ash tried again, his eyes poking up from behind his phone. Fez glanced at him in the mirror and shot him his most intimidating glare, not that it would do much, ash wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone.

It was supposed to be a gorgeous night, seamless, what could possibly go wrong?

Social services, that’s what.

They hadn’t had a child welfare officer come through in years, after grandma had filed some fraudulent paperwork claiming ash was legally adopted they stayed on the down low. Fez had been pretty good about updating the state about himself becoming ash’s legal guardian now that he was 19 and he could’ve sworn ash’s case file had fallen through the cracks just like half of east highlands run always and crack babies.

Apparently not.

Just two days ago, an overworked, frazzled middle aged women with a clip board came by the house asking question after question and promising she would be stopping by unexpectedly. She’d seemed satisfied with how ash was doing but fez had heard all about these “visits” and he wasn’t about to let her come over and see ash staying in the house alone, that was a sure fire trip to a foster home.

He knew it would die down after a month or so, that’s usually how it worked but that just meant he wasn’t leaving his brothers side until he was certain they were in the clear. He wasn’t risking losing Ash and if that meant the aggravating preteen had to come along on his first date, so be it.

Lexi had been more than understanding and claimed it wasn’t a problem at all that he had to bring his brother. She loved the surly little bastard and ash put up with her which was more than he could say about anyone else.

Unfortunately that meant he had to scrap all the romantic, mushy ass, teen romcomesque, plans he’d made for the two of them. He was certain ash would jump off the roof if he made him look at the stars on top of the convenience store and he couldn’t really imagine he’d take to kindly to a late night picnic at east highland park.

“What are we doing anyway?” Ash poked his head over the console and fez fought the urge to palm him back into his seat.

“I don’t know what we’re doing now Ash.” He said through gritted teeth.

Ash shook his head and tssked at his older brother

“Man this is a first date and you ain’t got shit planned? You gonna have to step your game up if you plan on pulling a chick like Lexi.”

Fez slammed on the breaks sending ashtray stumbling forward nearly landing in his lap. He shoved him back and grinned at the pissed off kid

“Sit your ass back before you go flying through the window.”

Lexis house was nice, nicer than his thats for sure and when he pulled up to the driveway he was surprised to find it completely empty, save for lexis bike chained up to the mailbox.

As soon as he opened the drivers side door Lexi came bouncing out of her front door, signature goofy grin on her face and a pair of sleep shorts with pink donuts on them. It wasn’t exactly date attire but who was he to judge.

She smiled warmly at both of the boys and fez wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and keep her there for as long as he possibly could.

“Hi guys.”

Ash nodded absently and scuffed his feet against the freshly planted grass.

Fez pulled the daisies from his cup holder and handed them to her shyly

“Hi Lex.”

Her eyes went soft, a smile he hadn’t seen before gracing that pretty face as she brought the bouquet to her chest.

“You bought me flowers?” She whispered sweetly.

Fez shrugged his shoulders, cheeks pink under his freckles.

“No big deal.” He waved his hand casually.

“Sure the hell was a big deal, we had to go to fuckin fifty grocery stores because it ain’t damn daisy season. But he wouldnt settle for nothin less.” Ash grumbled.

God, he never wanted to hit this kid as bad as he did now.

Lexi laughed, open and bright and it made his heart do funny things.

“Well I think it’s sweet.” She pressed her lips to fez’s flaming cheeks and grabbed his wrist “come on in!”

He followed blindly and he could hear ash’s heavy footsteps behind him.

“Where’s your mom and Cassie?” Fez nodded towards the empty driveway.

Lexi pulled him through the front door

“Mom went away for the weekend with some friends and I haven’t seen Cassie in a week, I think she’s staying with some new guy. It’s best that I just don’t ask.” She rolled her eyes and lead both the boys into the living room.

The living room was set up so that the couch was closer to the tv, three separate blankets folded on the two couches and the coffee table was covered with takeout. A huge bowl of popcorn in the center and a shit ton of sodas all over the place. There were dvd cases piled on top of the tv and pillows all over the floor.

It was quiet for a moment and he looked over to see Lexi chewing on her thumb. Her big brown eyes looked up at him expectantly

“I wanted to do something that could be fun for all of us. I don’t really see us three at some fancy restaurant and I figured we could go to the movies but I’ve got all the best ones here anyway. We could each pick one. I got a bunch of different takeout cuz I wasn’t sure what you guys preferred. If you want to do something else we can totally do it but I kind of just threw this together last minute.”

Fez was speechless he had no idea what to say. It was ash who spoke first

“Is that China garden?” He pointed at a take out container of lo Mein.

Lexi nodded and Ash grinned

“They’re the shit. Best Chinese in East Highland, on god” He dropped down onto the couch and reached for the container, pulling it into his lap and grabbing the pile of DVDs “I get to pick first.”

Lexis shoulders slumped in relief and when she looked up at Fez her eyes were so shiny he almost forgot where he was.

“I’m gonna go grab the egg rolls, I was warming them up.” She turned towards the kitchen and Fez trailed after her like a puppy, cornering her at the counter.

He trapped her with his arms and pulled her gaze to his

“You didn’t have to do all this ma, this was supposed to be a date. Our first date.”

Lexi looked up at him confused

“It still is, isn’t it?”

Fez felt every ounce of ice in his body melt at that

“Well yeah. But we got ash and I was gonna take you somewhere nice, had all this shit planned.”

Lexi shook her head, pressing her hand to his cheek

“There’s nothing wrong with this being our first date. I couldn’t imagine a better time than curled up on the couch with you and listening to your brother yell at every single person who walks on screen. There’s plenty of time for fancy dinners and picnics.” She pressed her lips to his cheek again and he dodged it, capturing her lips with his own.

It was just a peck, soft ruby pressing against his, beard ticking her nose before he pulled away.

She smiled wider than he’d ever seen and nudged him back towards the living room as she scanned the kitchen for a vase for her flowers.

By the time she came back into the living room Fez had already made room for her on the couch and was holding her favorite vegetarian fried rice. She snuggled into his shoulder and he wrapped her up in their shared blanket.

Ashtray had settled on the floor and turned back around

“Don’t pull any funny shit you two. Now be quiet, terminators on.”

Perfect.

The perfect first date.

#euphoria #fexi #fez and lexi #fezco #fezco euphoria #fezco x lexi #ashtray #lexi howard #euphoria spoilers #fexi hive #fezco and lexi #fezco and ashtray

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ladyartemesia · 3 years

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TEASER: Kim Seokjin and the Mean Omega

Pairing: Nerd Alpha Kim Seokjin x Popular Omega Reader

Genre: A/B/O • Enemies to Lovers • (Sorta) College AU • Best Friend's Brother AU (Who is surprised? No one?)

Teaser Word Count: 3.6K

Teaser Warnings: A/B/O sexual dynamics • suggestive content

Rating: Explicit (18+) (Teaser is PG-13)

Summary: In the modern world, alphas are almost unheard of so why even bother learning about them? After all, as a spoiled (but reasonably kind-hearted) omega who is used to getting whatever she wants, you have better things to do. However, when unexpected circumstances throw you in the path of (extremely) nerdy and (probably?) shy Kim Seokjin, you're shocked to discover that he won't be wrapped around your little finger as easily as all the rest. Bringing that infuriating geek to his knees quickly becomes your personal mission in life... But it turns out that Kim Seokjin is not what he appears to be and the mean omega who eats beta boys for breakfast is about to get way more than she bargained for...

Author’s Note: This story would not be here without the love, support and friendship of my incredible support system. You talk with me, you laugh with me, you listen when I’m crying, and you read my chaotic drafts when I am ready to pull my hair out of my head in frustration. I love you all. @ppersonna @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen @lemonjoonah. ALSO thank you to each and every one of you who encouraged me to post this story. This fic is dedicated to all of you as a token of my love and appreciation. Your support keeps me writing. Never doubt that for a second.

“...due to discriminatory anti-alpha policies in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century, alphas were nearly eliminated from the general population…”

You heaved a weary sigh and rolled your shoulders—stretching the buttons of your high-end Oxford shirt to their limit. The beta sophomore to your right whined audibly and you smirked.

“...despite efforts to restore the genetic balance of designations, alphas currently comprise less than one percent of the population…”

Your back arched slightly as you crossed your legs, letting the absurdly short hem of your skirt ride up even higher. The poor boy you were tormenting shifted miserably in his seat.

How was he supposed to focus on a Human Biology and Designation Studies lecture when the living breathing embodiment of every sweaty undergrad’s fantasies was twisting her fingers in her hair and wrapping her pretty pink tongue around a strawberry lollipop right there in the middle of class?

“...unlike betas and omegas, alphas possess enhanced strength and the ability to compel other designations with their voice. Unmated alphas especially were often baselessly feared and distrusted...”

You knew exactly how you affected boys like him. You were a shameless tease who relished their attention and the power it brought you. Who needed drugs when driving a man mad with desire was a rush more potent than any high?

“...and that’s all for today so please read pages 450-466 in the text over break and remember to turn in your essay on scent and consent in intimacy—”

That poor sophomore looked like he had finally worked up the courage to speak to you, but you were already out the door and tearing down the hall toward your beautiful (and entirely platonic) counterpart, Kim Taehyung.

“Do you think Professor Moore is unaware that class is over at 3:25 or is he just torturing us for science?”

Taehyung shrugged, falling into step beside you with practiced ease.

“I mean I would torture you for free so it’s hard to say.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up at his characteristic dry humor, but the irritation at being held in that sweltering lecture hall for an extra ten minutes had frayed your temper.

“It’s the last class before spring break, I’m sure he was on some sort of twisted power trip.” You dug around in your purse for some chapstick, ignoring Tae’s amused snorting, “Alphas barely exist anymore and none of us are likely to meet one. Why bother learning what they can do?”

Taehyung tilted his head in amusement.

“You might be surprised.”

The final party before the beginning of spring break was always a laid back affair.

Many people had already caught planes to their various destinations, but your flight was scheduled for early tomorrow morning—leaving you with some time to kill.

Taehyung pressed his newest experimental concoction into your hand within minutes of entering the house (a surprisingly neat bachelor pad owned by two seniors, Jung Hoseok and Min Yoongi) and then darted back to the kitchen to craft more questionable alcohol potions like a deranged party warlock.

You had just found a comfortable place on the couch and were contemplating whether sampling your best friend’s mad scientist elixir would be worth the probable damage to your body when—

“H-Hello...”

It was that sophomore from your Designations Studies class. What was his name again? Jungwoo? Jinwook?

“Jungkook,” you smiled, delighted to have remembered before it became awkward. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You motioned to the empty cushion next to you and the man in question scrambled over like he’d won the lottery.

“I—I know we don’t know each other well, but I noticed you were absent during Professor Moore’s lecture on intimacy and scent consent so I—” he blushed deeply, “I wrote the essay for you—and I brought a copy on my flash drive if-if you want it.”

Your heart melted immediately.

“Oh my gosh Jungkook, that is so sweet of you!”

Your gaze darted over his muscular form and thick brown curls.

Sweet indeed.

“I don’t want to miss out on the learning though,” you pouted, placing a hand on his tattooed bicep. “Can you explain it to me?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously even as his wide eyes fell to where your fingers were sliding slowly over his chest.

Scent consent was a pretty basic and universally known concept, but you really were touched by the handsome sophomore's consideration.

Why not give him (and yourself) a little reward?

“Um so basically if two people are involved in...intimate activities—”

You leaned forward to nip his ear lightly and he whimpered.

“Like this?” you asked innocently.

“Y-Yes. Like that.” He gulped. “In an intimate situation consent or refusal can be smelled. The scent of refusal or reluctance in intimacy is strong, unmistakable, and has a high chemical potency.”

“Is that so?” you drawled, sliding over onto his lap. Jungkook’s eyes rolled back into his head and you bit back a grin.

He was adorable.

“Uh-huh—it—oh my gawd,” (you were nibbling on his ear again) “it can immediately block sexual arousal and performance in the other partner. Meaning, if consent is not present, then it becomes difficult or—ahh” (his voice began to waver under your continued attention) “—or even impossible to continue with intimate acts.”

Your hand slid up to his cheek, bringing him closer till your lips were almost touching.

“Then what does it mean if I’m still so turned on right now?”

“It means,” Jungkook shuddered—nearly delirious with your scent, “that I really really want you.”

Across the room, Park Jimin chuckled as he watched you seduce his enthusiastic friend.

Jeon Jungkook was such a sweet kid.

Hopefully he wouldn’t get too attached.

“Wow... Some people are genuinely born blessed I suppose.”

Jimin turned to see Jung Hoseok eyeing the dimly lit corner where you and the eager young sophomore were exploring each other.

It was a rather...provocative spectacle. Not quite raunchy (you weren’t truly an exhibitionist)—just insanely sexy.

Jimin’s gaze lingered on the smooth curve of your thigh where Jeon Jungkook was currently holding on for dear life.

Lucky bastard.

“Ah you know how she is,” he sighed. “That boy isn’t going to get any farther than anyone else.”

It was relatively common knowledge that you liked to mess around but rarely—if ever— fully hooked up with anyone.

Jimin asked you about it once during a drunken game of truth or dare and you had just shrugged, mumbling something along the lines of avoiding STDs (which—to be fair—was at least part of your motivation), but the truth was a little more complicated than that.

In terms of experience, you weren’t a virgin, but... you hadn’t actually had sex in years.

You loved the chase, the foreplay, the build-up—the game of cat-and-mouse between two people who were attracted to one another.

But the final consummation was always so…

Wildly unfulfilling.

Every encounter left you frustrated. Empty.

Grumpy—even.

So you stopped bothering with it all together. (That was what sex toys were for after all.)

At the end of the day you were perfectly content being labeled a tease—it meant that people tended to know what they were (or rather weren’t) getting into when they rolled the dice with you.

Besides…it hadn’t even put a dent in your throng of admirers.

You were sunny, spoiled, indulgent, almost universally adored—

And you loved every minute of it.

“You know…” Hoseok took a long sip of his drink. “I always thought she would end up with Taehyung, but it’s been three years.”

Like you, Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat and it was only natural that two beautiful and absurdly privileged people would gravitate to one another. You met at a freshman pledge party and had been an inseparable (and formidable) dynamic duo ever since.

The undisputed king and queen of campus.

Yes—maybe the two of you were a little self-absorbed at times, but it was hardly your fault that people tended to instinctively cater to the force of your combined looks, wealth, and charisma.

And it didn’t hurt that neither of you were ever intentionally cruel or unkind.

Just... habitually thoughtless.

(Though not when it came to each other. If anything your friendship was one area where you were both a little more human.)

Jimin shook his head.

“Nah that’s never gonna happen.” He tapped his nose. “They’re scent-crossed.”

Hoseok’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

Scent-crossed pairs didn’t smell sexually attractive to each other.

Like. At all.

No matter how physically or visually appealing an individual might be, it would be near impossible to form a sexual or romantic attachment to them if you were scent-crossed. Alphas, betas, and omegas were all subject to their noses first and foremost in the realm of attraction.

You and Taehyung smelled like comfort and home to one another...

But you were more turned on by a crisp cup of apple juice than you were his scent and the feeling was quite mutual.

He might as well have been your actual brother.

“That explains so much.” Hoseok snorted as he watched a drunken Taehyung do a flying leap on top of both you and Jungkook.

“Why is sunlight so offensive?” you croaked, dragging yourself and your luggage toward the boarding ramp next to an equally miserable Taehyung.

“The next time I book a flight before 9 AM, please shoot me,” he grunted.

Your parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a month-long European cruise so your best friend had graciously invited you to spend two glorious weeks of spring vacation at his family estate.

The invitation had actually come as somewhat of a surprise because—for all your closeness—Taehyung was uncharacteristically tight-lipped about his family.

Not that he was deliberately withholding information per se… It was just that he never really brought them up beyond an occasional passing comment.

The one time you did ask him about them directly he sighed and said—

“We’re very close, but… I suppose we’ve just gotten used to being very private.”

There was clearly more to the story, but you were confident that Tae would share it if and when he was ready.

“My parents are in Seoul opening a new branch of the company. They took my little sister with them and my older brother has his own house so it will be just us.” He snuggled deeper into the first class seat directly next to yours. “We’ll hang out by the pool and chill during the day, then hit up some of the new clubs or whatever at night.”

“So… No one from your family will be there?”

Perhaps the invitation was not so surprising after all.

“Nope. Just you and me and thirty acres of ocean front property.”

You grinned.

“Perfect.”

“Whose room is that?”

The two of you were lugging your bags down the main hall of Taehyung’s expansive mansion when a strange hint of...something caught you right by the nose.

Your friend turned to find you frozen and staring curiously at a familiar door near the balcony.

His eyes widened, but you were too preoccupied to notice his momentary concern.

“That’s just Jin’s room.”

A firm hand wrapped around your wrist and dragged you away, but your eyes stayed glued to the source of the mysterious scent until you were around the corner and out of sight.

Your suite for the next two weeks was right across the hall from Taehyung’s. There was a whirlpool, a full bath, a balcony, and an ocean view that would rival the cover spread of any travel magazine.

Tae headed for the shower (to ‘wash the airplane off’) immediately after showing you the room and you were thinking of doing the same except…

Your mind kept going back to that door and the hint of scent you detected.

There was something… different about it.

It was faint—and far from fresh (which made sense considering that one of the few things you did know about Kim Seokjin was that he hadn’t lived in this house for years).

But still…

The need to smell it again pressed insistently at the back of your mind.

Suddenly the sound of Taehyung singing raunchy lyrics in the shower carried over through the walls and you found your feet moving almost of their own accord.

What Tae doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you rationalized, making your way down the hall toward Jin’s door. Besides—it’s not as if I’m going to steal anything…

You just needed to find that scent again.

By the time your fingers closed over the knob every one of your nerves was strangely—acutely—alert but nothing could have prepared you for what was waiting behind the door.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“What a colossal nerd.”

The room was covered floor to ceiling in Nintendo memorabilia.

Bright primary colors assaulted your eyes from all directions in the form of action figures, posters, pillows, and every other conceivable merch variety known to man.

In the center of the suite stood a large king-sized bed covered in a custom black couture toile-style Mario-verse bed set (that looked every bit as expensive as it was geeky) and a mountain of high quality Nintendo character plush toys.

Everything was simultaneously luxe and nostalgic—a rare combination of sophisticated aesthetic balance and childlike indulgence.

And the scent was there.

It was faint and covered under layers of cleaner and air fresheners, but still lingering just below the surface—too weak for you to get a really good whiff, yet potent enough to torment you.

You moved forward unconsciously toward the strongest source of the hypnotic smell—the strangely inviting expanse of Kim Seokjin’s mattress.

Suddenly the urge to climb—no crawl—across the bed itself and roll around in it like a kitten in catnip gripped you out of nowhere.

“What the hell?” you muttered, rubbing absently over the mating gland at the base of your neck.

Something very odd was going on with your body.

Your restless gaze zeroed in on one of the stuffed toys piled atop his pillows. It was a cute little mushroom man your brain recognized as a Mario character named ‘Toad’.

Take it.

Your mouth dropped open in shock.

You need it.

“Am I going insane?” you wondered aloud.

You have to take it.

Muscles in your hand began to twitch involuntarily. You bit your lip.

Bring it back with you.

Several minutes later a freshly washed Taehyung wandered over to your room and found you sitting perfectly still on your bed while staring off into space.

His head tilted in curious concern.

“Everything ok?”

You started a bit at the sound of his voice, but recovered quickly.

“Never better!” you chirped—almost too brightly. “Let’s go get some dinner, I’m starving.”

Then you grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hall toward the kitchen—shutting the door before he could catch a glimpse of his brother’s stuffed Toad doll stashed underneath your pillow

“...a critical water main rupture in the city’s New Market district early this morning has forced several residents out of their homes as flood water swelled up to nearly two feet. The governor declared a state of emergency and ordered hotels around the city to accommodate the displaced citizens. Crews are still clearing the water and assessing damages. We expect—

“Hey!” you shouted through a mouthful of cereal, after Your best friend switched off the television, “I was watching that!”

“And what you should be doing is getting ready for the pool.” Tae snatched your cereal bowl and dragged you by your shirt collar toward the stairs. “It is the first morning of our vacation. I’m not trying to waste any time. Now go.” He shoved you forward, smacking your ass for good measure.

You swatted back at him half-heartedly as jogged back up to the room where you enjoyed a surprisingly restful sleep last night.

Kim Seokjin’s door glared at you accusingly as you shuffled past—unable to let you forget that you had kidnapped it’s little mushroom man in an unexplained fit of kleptomania, but that was a problem for your future self.

The you of right now was going to zen out in the Kim family's premium glass-enclosed indoor pool (it was still a little chilly for the outdoor pool) with her best friend and bask in the simple joys of good company and no responsibility.

...Or not.

A few minutes later you bounced into the living room wearing a simple black tankini with a cute floral cover only to find Taehyung on the phone with his head in his hands.

“Yes, sir. I understand… I...I know this is my responsibility...”

That didn’t sound good.

After a few more tense moments, Tae hung up and collapsed backward into the couch with a heavy sigh.

“That water main break you heard about on TV this morning was the last straw between the province and its current contractor. They called an emergency meeting for new bids.”

Your heart dropped as you sank down beside him.

“Your dad wants you to go...doesn’t he.”

Taehyung nodded miserably.

“He can’t leave the Seoul opening on such short notice and managing government construction contracts is part of what I’ve been training for. This could be huge for our company.”

“Well...why doesn’t your brother go?”

“Jin is the brains behind most of our patented gaming and tech innovations. He wouldn’t even know where to begin with this sort of thing. Besides,” his lips quirked up in a rueful grin, “my brother doesn’t have the patience to stroke entitled geriatric egos for hours on end—which is likely what I’m going to have to do.”

The two of you headed back to Taehyung’s room where you helped him pack some suits and toiletries for his trip.

Naturally you were disappointed but...this was a great opportunity for your best friend to prove himself in his chosen field and you both knew it. In fact, he was already starting to brighten a bit.

“The meeting is about a hundred miles north of here. My dad’s secretary already handled the flight and hotel room.” His eyes darted around the suite to see if he was forgetting anything.

It was clear he was nervous, though you were sure he didn’t need to be. Kim Taehyung was a trust fund brat, but he was also talented and deeply passionate about his family’s company.

Someday this would be the norm. The two of you were stealing time in college, determined to live a little before the expectations of your powerful families transferred fully onto your shoulders.

It was becoming more and more clear, however, that your carefree time was slowly running out.

Mother had already spoken to you about potential marriage alliances and your father expected you to intern with his Vice President this summer just as your elder sister had...

Taehyung’s voice suddenly interrupted your bittersweet introspection and you couldn’t help but smile at how grown-up he looked in his suit and briefcase ensemble.

Everything was going to change, but not quite yet.

“They estimate negotiations should take around a week or so…” He walked over and pulled you into a tight hug. “There should still be some vacation left for us when I get back.”

“Hurry back then,” you mumbled grumpily into his chest and he chuckled.

“I will.”

Taehyung had been gone for less than twenty minutes when you decided that the best use of your time would be to eat more snacks.

The last thing you expected when you skipped merrily into the kitchen was to find it occupied by a shaggy-haired homeless man in glasses.

Your first instinct was to scream which caused the homeless man to drop the apple he was biting right onto the floor where it rolled around for a small eternity before coming to rest at his ankles.

Your second instinct was to grab a butcher’s cleaver from the nearby knife block and wave it chaotically at the intruder while shouting something along the lines of—

“You’ve made a huge mistake! My boyfriend is the biggest, meanest mafia boss in Seoul! Leave now and he might let you live!”

The homeless man continued to stare at you with a mixture of confusion and shock, but made no move to run away in terror like you were hoping.

So you tried again.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?! The last man who touched me drinks his steak through a straw now! Do the smart thing and leave before my boyfriend comes down those stairs and it’s too late!”

Infuriatingly, the homeless man was still not fleeing for his life and frankly you were starting to get frustrated. You drew in a deep cleansing breath and were prepared to issue another grandiose threat when he finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, miss. I... think there’s been some sort of mistake. Who is your boyfriend?”

There was no rational explanation for what came out of your mouth next, but it rolled off your tongue so smoothly and you didn’t even flinch.

“Kim Seokjin.”

For the first time in your entire exchange, the intruder looked truly alarmed.

Now that’s more like it.

“You’ve heard of him I see. He’s a dangerous man and my body belongs to him.” You slammed the cleaver down onto the countertop with a (hopefully) menacing slash. “Kim Seokjin doesn’t like when other men put their hands on what belongs to him.”

There was a long, unpardonably tense moment of silence…Then the stranger slowly reached forward and picked up a mobile phone from the table in front of him.

His eyes remained locked with yours as he pressed a quick series of buttons, brought the phone to his ear, waited a few seconds and said—

“Taehyung… Would you mind telling me why there is a half-naked, knife-wielding omega in our kitchen claiming to be my girlfriend?”

Hello! Please comment on this post if you would like to be added to the taglist!

You guys were all so wonderful, and encouraging, and excited that I literally got this teaser out in three days! If you like what you read so far, please let me know! I cannot put into words how meaningful and valuable feedback is to me. I truly treasure it! It fuels my creativity and keeps me writing. I would love to hear from you!

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rayofsunas · 3 years

Text

s/o trying on the boys clothes.

A/n: I hope everyone’s day is going alright, as good as these days can be :( this was requested by an anon. thank you so much for your cute idea anon! also can I just say, I love scaramouche’s hat so much? it’s so pretty!?!?! sorry childe’s is so short, I don’t have much exposure to him ngl. these could be read as g/n, but I did have a female reader in mind, it’s more noticeable in xiao’s.

Summary: s/o trying on the boys clothes.

Parings: Scaramouche/Reader, Childe/Reader, Xiao/Reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing

Word count: 1.2k

Scaramouche

You knew the minute you put his hat on he’d be angered to see you wearing it. But how could you not, when it was just sitting on the back of the wooden chair, begging to be worn.

Your lover had abandoned it for once, but you assumed he hadn’t gone far if he’d left it behind. It was like a signature of his, he never left without it.

If he wasn’t here, he wouldn’t notice you wearing it, so it wouldn’t hurt anybody if you tried it on for just a few minutes. The curiosity was getting the better of you, and before you knew it, you were padding across the room to pick up the hat.

It slipped easily on your head, but you quickly noticed how heavy it was, the weight of the two ornamental accessories weighing it down significantly.

“Jeez, Scara... how do you wear this?” You muttered to yourself, approaching a mirror in your bedroom. You stared at your reflection for quite a while, appreciating and admiring the small intricate designs and details on the top of the hat. It was truly beautiful.

A nervousness bubbled in your stomach when you saw your lover come into view in the mirror, his eyes pointed in a heavy glare.

“What do you think you’re doing,” It wasn’t a question, more like a statement. One that could have held malice behind it if you were someone else.

Despite being nervous, you gulped and confidently announced, “Hello Scara.”

“Take that off.” You weren’t shocked by his demand, not at all.

“But it’s so pretty,” you whined. Scaramouche’s eyes rolled as he strolled forward, standing behind you with a finger on his chin. He was so close you could practically feel the best emitting off of his body; he was... irked.

“It’s design isn’t pretty.” He stated harshly.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right because it’s not on your head! Here.” You whipped the hat off at the speed of light and were quick to plop it on top of navy hair.

The ornaments continued to jingle even when the hat was secure on his head and you were left staring at an unreadable face.

“Better...” you whispered shyly. “You look like a King now.”

He stayed silent for a long time, it makes you feel uncomfortable and awkward under his gaze.

“Considering you like it so much. Maybe we should have one made for you...” he said thoughtfully, easing away all of your nervousness with just one unusual thoughtful comment. Your face heated up, burning like Jueyun Chili’s, you were excited.

“Really?! You would do that for me! Aw you’re so sweet Scara-”

“Only because I don’t want mine stolen all of the time.”

You frowned, but you would take the previous statement as a compliment. He wanted to match with you, that’s what you decided to conclude.

“Two-faced bastard... just let me have this moment, okay?!”

A rare smile formed on his pale face. “Aw, is someone upset?” You glared.

“Don’t whine like a baby; you’ll get yours in due time.”

You eventually did get your custom hat, designed to accommodate you perfectly. You wore it out of your house proudly, despite passing by travelers commenting on how odd it looked on you due to you looking “normal”. It didn’t bother you, you’d continue to wear it and strut it like a peacock with beautiful feathers. Let’s just say if Scaramouche hears anybody saying that to you, death. 🔪🙂

Childe

Childe LOVES that he caught you wearing his grey jacket, he could not thank the Archons enough, that he got to see such an image this morning. It was a great start to his day.

“Oh, you’re wearing my jacket, how cute of you, girlie.” He continued to say as you walked through the streets of Liyue. Ever since you had stepped out of your house this morning, and Childe had spotted you wearing his jacket he hadn’t been able to let go of the flirtatious and prideful comments.

“I didn’t have anything else.” You admitted, kicking rocks at your feet.

His tongue clicked, mockingly. “If you wanted to wear my clothes sweetheart, all you had to was ask!” A long arm gracefully slipped around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. You huffed.

“It’s not like that, I didn’t have time to wash any suitable clothes this morning-”

He only hummed with the shake of his head. “It’s okay, we’ll keep this secret between us.”

“It’s not, ugh whatever...”

You truthfully hadn’t had any suitable clothes left to run to Liyue Harbor in and hadn’t had time to wash them at the river near your home. Hence the reason you were wearing his jacket. You should’ve known he would not be able to drop it as soon as you stepped into his line of vision.

Although the teasing was annoying, especially so early in the morning after already starting your day stressing about what to wear, you did like the warmth the grey jacket gave you, and you probably would consider wearing it again.

Xiao

“Please, Xiao, please.” You whined, begging at your knees in front of your husband, hands cupped together in a pray-like form.

The pale man tried to get you to stand, but you would not, “I do not see why you want to wear my clothes.” He exclaimed, standing tall above you.

“Because, they’re pretty, are they not?”

He stayed silent, clearly thinking. “I’ve never associated them with the word pretty.”

You hummed, eyes glistening with false tears, he concluded. You sure did know how to get your way. Without much thought as to what he was saying, the man suddenly mumbled, “Fine, if you must.”

You cheered excitedly and loudly as if you had won a battle. Xiao watched with curiosity, as you abruptly stood, leaned in to kiss his cheek, and then ran off towards his wardrobe in the corner of the room.

You whipped the wardrobe open as if you were starving and began stifling through his clothes. Most articles were similar to his everyday attire, you could see signature teals, purples, and golds; immediately you gravitated towards one of his sleeveless shirts, although this one was a faded gold, with a light purple collar and intricate white detailing closer to the bottom.

Despite your husband still in the room, completely tinted pink from your previous cheek kiss, you threw your top off and began slipping his shirt on. It fit weirdly since you had breasts, kind of snug, you thought. You had to adjust it a few times, but you loved it. It was quite comfortable, almost like a tank top.

“What do you think?” You asked, turning around to face the Adepti.

He stared. Eventually, he spoke up after seeing your awaiting gaze. “You look beautiful, darling.”

You felt your face heating up, glad he liked how it looked on you, despite being extremely tight up top.

“Can I wear this more often?”

“I’m not sure-”

“Please.” You whined once again.

He just could not say no to that look on your face. If he let you get your way more often though, you just might end up with his closet as your own...

1.16.21, rayofsunas

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #childe x reader #childe #tartagalia #xiao #xiao x reader

2K notes · View notes

smoochkooks · 3 years

Text

—hymne a l’amour (m.)

⟶ pairing: park jimin/reader

⟶ genre: smut, fluff, tiny bits of angst

⟶ word count: 5.5k

⟶ summary: it’s valentine’s day and your boyfriend decides to surprise you in more ways than one. and when you’re dating park jimin, cocky, smart and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of absolutely nothing.

⟶ warnings: dom!jimin, sub!reader, big dick!jimin, sir kink, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, ass slapping, dirty talk, use of degrading names, unprotected sex, mentions of jimin having a daddy kink, jimin being disgustingly sweet boyfriend, oc having at least 2 (two) mental breakdowns, cringy valentine’s day presents

this is eldorado valentine’s day special but it can be read as a standalone. enjoy! xx

Spending Valentine's Day in the city of Paris is like walking through the streets of Beijing and smelling the strong essence of soy sauce and chicken every time you take a breath.

Overwhelming.

(Or at least that's what you think is a good comparison, since you've never stood your foot in Beijing before.)

Paris seems to be on another level when it comes to celebrating Valentine's Day. It's because that's the city of love, someone may say, but no, my friend, it's not just that. French grammar isn't the only stupid thing about said country. Citizens are even weirder, in more ways than one. It's the Eiffel Tower and the smell of garlic that disguises it all when you first visit France.

A week before February 14th, restaurants, cafees and grocery shops are all covered from head to toe in red hearts, chubby cupids, big teddy bears, various kinds of roses and, at the top of that – everywhere you focus your eyes on, you spot those huge inscriptions where words ‘love’ and ‘I love you’ are spelled in hundred different types of swirly fonts.

It's all too kitschy for your liking but tourists and locals don’t actually mind it even a bit. Once a year Paris turns into a set of the most cliché rom-com and no matter how irksome it might feel, you just have to survive this festival of boofonery.

You've always despised Valentine's Day with every fiber of your being (mostly because you hadn’t had anyone you could actually spend this day with) but your judgement took a sharp three-sixty turn when certain blond, charismatic man entered your life. Now, while you’re happily taken, a romantic dinner and a bouquet of red roses don’t sound that bad.

But when you're dating someone like Park Jimin, a smart-ass, cocky and obnoxiously good-looking archeologist, you can be sure of abosultely nothing.

It's a little past ten, you’re laying in your king-size bed, a day before the actual Valentine's Day. Jimin informed you he was going to be late for dinner because of some extra paperwork he had to do in the office, so you patiently wait for him. Wrapped like a fancy Christmas gift in a new pair of flimsy, lacy lingerie you recently bought in Victoria’s Secret, all hidden underneath Jimin's baggy t-shirt (the combination of casual and slutty never fails to drive him crazy). The set is cute, in a baby pink colour. The last time you pulled a move like this, Jimin went hard, literally and lyrically.

Let's just say that Park Jimin (and his dick) likes high-quality underwear.

Dating Jimin has taught you a few things, one of them being that his sex drive is insatiable, so you always need to be prepared. That’s why you're now laying here, on your bed, freshly shaved and smelling of coconut, your precious pussy ready to be worshipped by Jimin's mouth.

When you hear the familiar jingle of keys and the door to your apartment swings open, you squeal in excitement, grabbing your phone from the nightstand to scroll through it mindlessly so you don’t come across a girl whose only purpose in life is to get dicked down by her boyfriend.

(Which, right now, is your only purpose.)

“Babe, I’m home!”

You hear Jimin pulling off his shoes and coat, so you shout back, “I’m in the bedroom!”

He seemed to be in a good mood in the morning and if nothing's changed, you're positive about getting some action tonight. A well-deserved orgasm after work it's all you crave. You squeeze your thighs, and wait.

“God, I’m so fucking exhausted.” Jimin announces upon entering the room and as soon as those words leave his mouth, he collapses face down onto the bed. His lifeless corpse smells like sweat mixed with his usual cologne and you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

And that’s on getting railed by your boyfriend tonight.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs after a moment, voice laced with tiredness. He grunts and lifts himself up to place a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes like bitter coffee and it makes you cringe, but you kiss him back nonetheless. He pulls off too fast for your liking and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck instead. He cuddles into your side, mumbling something about you feeling warm.

In your head, you count. When was the last time you two had sex? Right, last Tuesday. Oh boy, what a night it was. Your ass still hurts a little while sitting on a chair, a byproduct of your boyfriend's palm landing smack after smack on your cheeks. Lesson learned: never smile too broadly to the waiter who blatantly flirsts with you. You're sure the whole appartment complex heard that night who makes you feel that good

(As if they don’t already know.)

See? Park Jimin is unpredictable.

“How was work?’’ you decide to ask instead, clearing your thoughts from the inappropriate images of Jimin’s bare body pressed to yours as he fucked you that night. You thread your fingers through his blond locks just the way he likes, massaging his scalp.

He sighs, his words muffled when he speaks. “This new employee can’t do shit. I had to prepare everything before tomorrow's expedition by myself,” he says. “I have to tell Namjoon to fire his ass.”

You falter your movements for a second. Right, the expedition. You completely forgot about it. Jimin's going to be out of town for the whole day, digging in the soil in some French village the name of you cannot pronounce.

It looks like your fancy lingerie has to wait for her big premiere a little longer.

“What time are you planning to be back home?” you ask.

“Dunno. Probably late.” Jimin exhales loudly, his breath tickling your neck. His hand travels to your nude thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. You fight back a moan that threatens to spill from you mouth. You really need to get laid soon. “We set off at 6am.” he adds, tracing circles on your bare skin. Your smile drops.

So the plans for morning sex on Valentine's Day stay where they belong. In your dreams.

“You're so soft. And you smell like coconuts. I could stay like this forever.” Jimin mumbles, circling your waist with his arms and pulling you even closer to him.

You sigh, basking in this situation just for a while, stroking Jimin's hair and listening to his steady breathing until he eventually falls asleep. Still fully clothed, still with his hand on your thigh. Carefully, so you don’t wake him up, you get up from the bed to take off your underwear. You do feel a little disappointed, but it's okay.

When you settle yourself on the bed next to Jimin again, your back facing him, a strong arm pulls you flush to his body. You hear him sighing with relief, and it makes you smile to yourself.

Lights off, everything can wait for tomorrow.

In the morning, just like expected, you wake up alone. There's no sight of Jimin, his side of the bed empty and cold. For your dismay, there’s no bouquet of red roses waiting for you in the kitchen, no box of chocolates or a small, cheesy note with your name written on it. Not even a short “Happy Valentine's Day, baby!” text on your phone. Absolutely nothing.

You tells yourself it’s fine. Maybe Jimin didn’t have enough time, maybe he was too occupied with expedition to prepare something special, maybe the big surprise is yet to come. However, you can’t quite shake off the feeling that something do seem odd and it makes you anxious. Leaving without a single text is not Jimin's style. Not when it's your first Valentine's Day spend together.

You probably shouldn’t worry that much. It's not a big deal, after all you hate those types of annual holidays and Jimin knows it. Yet something about the whole situation makes you uncontrollably uneasy. You have never been like this, vulnerable and sheepish. You hate Park Jimin for turning you into such a softie.

Walking through the streets of Paris makes you feel nauseous. You look at all the happy couples sucking each others’ faces for everyone to see and fight an urge to gag. Someone shouts “Love is in the air!” and you almost throw up. Everytime you see someone holding heart-shaped balloons or flowers, you whip your head in other direction. It's nothing, you keep reminding yourself. A stupid holiday that doesn’t mean anything at all.

But the actual nail to the coffin happens to be the atmosphere in Eldorado headquarters. It drives you absolutely crazy.

It's 12am and still no word from Jimin. You checked: this bastard was online one hour ago, so he just doesn’t want to talk to you. Fine, mister. If this is how you wanna play, try sucking your dick by yourself, beacuse I’m not getting near it anytime soon, you think to yourself, filled with rage.

Yeri wiggles her pretty eyebrows at you and asks about your plans for tonight. You fake a giggle, saying that Jimin will probably surprise you with something when he gets back from his expedition. The words taste bitter on your tongue, especially when the high hopes you had simply melted away this morning. Your friend then starts babbling about the restaurant she's going to with Jungkook after work and you listen to her rant with forced smile on your face the whole time.

Meanwhile, a few meters away from you Hoseok is giggling like a teenager, typing something on his phone, without a doubt (sex)texting his girlfriend. She's out of town and you’re more than sure Hoseok hasn't gone to bathroom ten minutes ago just to take a piss. Even Namjoon is in a pleasant mood today, humming some old ABBA hits under his breath. Yesterday he couldn’t shut up about his date with a girl who’s also his new neighbour. He met her when she came by to give him homemade croissants. Ironically, that sounds a lot like some kdrama lovestory to you, and Namjoon hates kdramas.

During lunch time, you scroll through your Instagram and almost slam your phone on the wall. There's a new photo uploaded on Kim Seokjin's account.

kimseokjin92: Celebrating Valentine's Day on Maldives w @minsuga #couplegoals #boyfriends #valentinesday #loveislove

They are on fucking Maldives. Fucking Maldives! You grit your teeth. It's fine. Completely fine.

But the absolute peek, the moment when you almost break down into tears and curl yourself into a ball of misery, comes in the person of Jeon Jungkook. He enters the office with a bouquet of the most beautiful red roses you have ever seen, a huge grin plastered on his stupid face.

Your heart clenches in your chest. Park Jimin could never.

Jungkook hands Yeri the flowers and she laughs, slapping his chest when he starts declaiming Romeo's monologue from the Shakespeare’s tragedy. He then kisses his girlfriend deeply and lovingly, making her cheeks flush in crimson. Hoseok coos at them, Namjoon following him. You swear you saw Jungkook's tongue in the process of said heavy make out session.

(Jealously is an awful emotion, you've decided a long time ago.)

An hour later, the bouquet stands proudly on Yeri’s desk and you stare at it with melancholy. You briefly avert your gaze to Jimin's desk and the memories flash before your eyes. The same desk he had you bent over, skirt bunched around your waist and cock drilling into your pussy, when you both stayed together at work after hours not so long ago.

You mentally slap yourself. Get your shit together, woman. It's not like he broke up with you. It's just some stupid holiday. It's nothing.

“Something's wrong?’’ Yeri asks you with genuine concern written on her face.

You swallow, forcing yourself to smile. “No, everything's fine. Just a headache.”

She eyes you suspiciously. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” you say. Even though your friend doesn’t look convinced, she eventually stops bothering you.

It's all good. My boyfriend forgot about our first Valentine's Day together but everything's alright. No worries, you want to say instead.

Later that day, when you exit the elevator and walk straight to your apartment, a strange smell of something burning fills your nostrils. Is that food? A real fire? No, that's definitely some meat that stayed too long in the oven.

The closer you are, the smell becomes stronger, like it’s actually coming from your apartment. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What the fuck.” you mutter to yourself.

When you open the door, your jaw falls slack, eyes wide like saucers.

Never, in your entire life, had you thought you would see Park Jimin, your own dearest boyfriend, popping out from the kitchen with his hair disheveled, sweat coating his forehead, wearing a black suit underneath the most ridiculous apron you have ever seen: pink with a big-ass ‘mr good lookin is cookin' written in the middle.

(Can someone remind you why are you dating him? Oh, thank God he isn’t naked underneath.)

He looks completely lost when he spots you, waving awkwardly in your direction. It's probably the first time he touched something in the kitchen that isn’t coffee machine. He’s so flustered that you almost forget he nearly turned your apartment into ashes.

“Hi, babe.” he says sheepishly.

It takes all the willpower you hold not to spit a lung watching your boyfriend who absolutely hates cooking, trying to look unimpressed by the smell of burnt food. He does a pretty poor job though, an apron not helping in the situation.

“Happy Valentine's Day!’’ he exclaims perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, approaching you and planting a kiss on your cheek. And after that, you burst into hysterical laughter.

(Seriously, you almost lose your own breath three times.)

Jimin looks terrified but most importantly – put out. You’re probably hurting his enormous, almost the size of Russia pride right now. (Not your fault Jimin has the biggest praise kink on the planet.)

“Why are you laughing? Is it because of the chicken? Fine, I can’t cook for shit but I tried, okay? I didn’t have enough time and it was the middle of the night in Korea so I couldn’t just facetime my mum for advice and-”

You interrupt his rambling with a searing kiss, effectively shutting him up. He falters for a moment but quickly catches up, pulling you closer to him, placing his hands on your waist and deepening the kiss.

But then, when his about to trail kisses down your throat, you hit his arm.

“What was that for?!” Jimin yelps, looking at you with astonishment.

“I thought you fucking forgot about the Valentine’s Day!” you yell, slapping his chest. “Why didn't you tell me about this?!”

“Because the definition of surprise says you can’t reveal it sooner?” he reponds in a mocking tone.

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble and pull him in for another kiss. You could feel him smiling into it, cheekily biting onto your lower lip. He places a loving peck on your forehead and brushes the strands of your hair behind your ears. There's so much affection in his eyes you could melt into a puddle right here and there.

“I’m sorry. Jungkook told me you looked upset the whole day.” he whispers.

“I wasn't!” you protest.

“He told me you almost cried when he gave Yeri a bouquet of red roses.”

This stupid brat.

You look up at Jimin. “Fine. I was mad. And sad. Everyone was having the time of their lives and here I was, on a verge of mental breakdown because my idiot of a boyfriend supposedly forgot about the Valentine's Day.” you say, crossing your arms over chest with a pout.

Jimin rolls his eyes and takes your hand, leading you to the living room, where a bottle of (your absolute favourite) wine is standing on the table, along with candles and, yes, red roses. It's too cheesy and straight from the cringy rom-coms but you don't mind, because it's Jimin and he poured his heart into this and it's all that matters.

When he approaches you again, he isn’t wearing that stupid apron and you blush at how perfect he looks, almost painfully handsome. His hair needs a cut so it’s pushed back from his forehead. God reincarnated in the form of a smart, cocky archeologist who happens to be your boyfriend.

You're, well, in your black jeans and baby blue sweater and you probably stink, but Jimin assures you with his loving touches he doesn’t mind, never will. He always does that, looking at you with those sparkling eyes which say you're the most beautiful thing in the world for him.

And it doesn't matter how many times you scold him throughout the day, how many banters you have over silly things, because at the end of the day, in each others’ embraces, it feels like home for the both of you.

“Since the chicken chickened out,” Jimin says nonchalantly, filling your glasses with red wine. “We can always get drunk and watch some old romantic movies.”

You smirk. “You cried the last time when we watched ‘When Harry met Sally’.”

Jimin clicks his tongue. “Don't test my patience, sweetheart or you won't get the presents.” he warns.

You raise your eyebrows. You hope one of them comes in the form of his dick. Suddenly, you’re reminded of your lingerie set, so you make a mental note to wear it after the shower. “Can I see those presents now?” you ask, looking at Jimin with pleading eyes. It's exactly three seconds till he softens.

“Fine.” he mutters and heads to the bedroom.

When he comes back, he’s not alone. Literally not alone, because he's caring the most hilarious Valentine’s present you could ever think of. A giant, white teddy bear, almost in the size of him, heart-shaped balloons attached to his right paw.

“This is,” Jimin whips his head to read the name on the bear's chest. “Ted.”

You blink. “You bought me a teddy bear named Ted?”

Jimin opens his mouth to say some witty comment but he stops when he hears you sob. “Baby, sweetheart, what's wrong?” He kneels in front of you, the bear long forgotten on the floor. You burst into tears and Jimin tries to calm you down, rubbing soothing circles on your thighs.

Once you eventually stop crying and regain your normal breathing, you wipe your tear-strained cheeks and look down at your very much worried boyfriend. “You are an idiot, Park Jimin. A fucking idiot. That teddy bear is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen and I should humiliate you for giving me that but...” You take a deep breath. “But I can’t. Because I fucking love you, dumbass.”

The corners of Jimin lips lift in amusement but you’re clearly not done with your little speech, so he waits until you finish. “You organized the most cliché date ever. You read all the Grey's books. You can’t cook for shit and this stupid apron you wore? God have mercy,” You visibly cringe. “You declaim Greek philosophers when you shower. Fuck, you persuaded me to do teacher-student roleplay and I kept calling you daddy during the whole thing because you asked me to. You are everything I despise but at the same time I love you so much,” you say, tears once again welling in your eyes. “I’m sorry I’m telling you this now, even though I've realised this a long time ago.”

Jimin’s silent, so unlike him, declaring his emotions with a huge grin this time. He stands up and picks your body into his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you both to your bedroom. He places you gingerly onto the mattress, hovering over your figure.

(Your fancy lingerie can wait for another occasion.)

“I love you too, ___.” he says, staring into your eyes. “You’re making me the happiest man in this world.”

You roll your eyes, however there’s no use for that because your cheeks are already tainted red. “Oh, stop being such a sap.”

He smirks. “You love when I’m like this.”

“That is, in fact, not true.”

You’re lying and he knows it, but he always lets you banter with him like this anyway.

“Then what do you want me to be today?” he asks, his hands travel down to your zipper, then pull down your jeans. “Sweet? Loving?” He helps you take off your sweater and you’re left with nothing on beside your underwear. “Or do you want me to be rough? Push you around and fuck you stupid?” You gulp, your attitude successfully shut down. “Come on, use your words.”

Somehow, you manage to gain your composure. “Want you to take off your clothes first.”

Jimin chuckles, lowly and with a promise of more to come if you’re patient and behaving well, according to his commands. “You’re not the one to give orders here, baby.” he retorts. Then, he’s gripping your knees, pulling your legs apart and putting your pussy on full display for him.

There’s already a dark, wet patch forming on your grey panties and he tsks disapprovingly. “You’re wet and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want it that much, huh?”

You nod. “Please, touch me.”

“Try again.”

So he’s in that mood today. You’ve explored a fair share of kinks with Jimin so far and what you know for sure is that he always takes the leading role in bed. He likes to dominate, be the one in charge, railing you into the mattress until you’re crying out so loud your neighbours are banging on your walls.

You slip into your role naturally, your usual confident behaviour gone and replaced with timidity. He relishes in seeing you like this, helpless and vulnerable, a stark contrast to how you act on daily basis.

Jimin pins you with his dark stare and you give in. ‘”Yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

He rewards you with a feather-like touch of his fingers on your pussy. He finds your clit with ease, rubbing it with practiced strokes until more juices drip down from your hole, wetting your panties embarrassingly fast. Your legs shake with want for more, to feel him sink his digits knuckle-deep into your cunt and finger you like he did that one time in a bathroom on your flight to Japan.

He doesn’t seem the slightest bothered with your state, ignoring your pleading eyes and wanton moans. He hasn’t even taken off your underwear yet and you’re already on the verge of an orgasm.

Jimin knows your body inside and out, probably better than you do, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to you that he can sense when you’re about to climax. He withdraws his hand from your center seconds before your release. You can’t help but huff with annoyance.

“Something's wrong, babygirl?” he asks, saccharine-sweet and annoyingly innocent.

Your retort dies on your tongue the moment he decides to unbutton his white dress shirt. You’re too distracted with delicious lines of his sculpted chest to complain about your denied pleasure anymore. Your hands itch to touch him but you stay immobile, devouring him with your eyes instead.

Jimin notices you're staring and smirks. “Like what you see?”

You nod. “Yes, sir.”

He then stands up from the bed and motions for you to come closer. You oblige without an ounce of confusion, crawling until you’re sitting on your heels in front of him. It’s a rather humiliating position but you can’t help but feel the rush of adrenaline in your veins when he cups your chin and tilts your head up.

“Take off my pants.”

You rush to obey, unbuckling his belt with shaky hands because you know what’s coming next once his pants are pulled down. He’s already hard, the prominent bulge of his cock straining in his briefs.

“Now my underwear.”

You nearly moan out loud when his cock slaps his abdomen, mouth salivating to take him in deep but you don’t dare touch him without a directed instruction. He makes sure your eyes are on him and starts stroking himself, spreading the precum all over his length, hissing when his thumb rubs the sensitive head of his cock.

Jimin groans, low and throaty, and you whimper quietly in response. “What, baby? You want my cock that much?” he asks, his left palm cupping your cheek. You whisper a meek “Please” and he chuckles. “Come on then. Show me what that slutty mouth of yours can do. Open up.”

Your lips part on command and you nearly moan when he guides his cock into your mouth. You’ve sucked Jimin's dick enough times to know what he likes, what brings him to the edge quicker than hitting the back of your throat. You lick the tip of his cock, eyes darting to check his reaction and, just as you expected, his features twist in pleasure.

You relish in a minute or two of the control you have over him before he grows bored with your teasing and decides to fuck your mouth instead. But for now, you make sure to have him suffer a little for that stunt he pulled earlier when he didn’t make you come.

You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks for extra stimulation. Your hands reach to fondle his balls and you smirk around his cock when you hear a groan leave Jimin's mouth. “Good girl,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek. You lean into his touch, moaning at the praise. “My pretty slut.”

The first hit on the back of your throat makes you gag because fuck, is he big. The only thing bigger than Jimin's ego seems to be his dick, apparently. When he threads fis fingers through your hair you know what’s about to come; jaw relaxed, saliva dripping down from the corners of your mouth, you’re ready to be ruined.

He withdraws, giving you exactly five seconds to breathe and then pushes forcefully inside. Your mind is filled with mental images of him giving your pussy the same treatment later. You would whimper at the thought, if your mouth wasn’t stuffed full of dick. Instead, you give your best, swallowing every inch of him obediently.

“That’s it,” he rasps, clamping one hand on the back of your neck for better leverage. “You’re doing so good, baby.” When he nudges the back of your throat again, you feel him throb. He pulls away from the warmth of your mouth seconds later, panting heavily. He falls back onto the bed and pats his thighs. “Come here.”

You scoot closer to him and crawl onto his lap. He smiles at you from below, pulling you in for a kiss. The hands he previously gripped your waist with now travel upwards, unhooking your bra. Your hips unconsciously move, pussy gliding along the flexed muscles of his thigh.

Jimin notices your desperate attempt at getting some friction on your most sensitive parts and helps you rock your hips. He moves your panties to the side and you moan, felling the delicious pressure on your bare center. He’s watching with amusement as you’re falling apart on his thigh, thumb reaching to rub your clit. You cry out, climaxing so hard you’re almost seeing stars behind your closed eyelids.

He keeps helping you ride out your high until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation. “Did you like it?” he then asks, urging you to look at him. “You were so desperate to come, sweetheart. Fucking yourself on my thigh like a bitch in heat,” You whine instead of responding, earning a harsh smack on your ass. “Use your words.”

Another slap lands on your cheek and you mewl. “Yes, I loved it, sir.”

He chuckles, maneuvering your body so you’re now positioned over his cock. He gives your ass a firm squeeze and you whimper, arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs despite orgasming just minutes ago. “Ride me, baby.” he says.

You hurry to obey, guiding his cock inside you. It's a tight fit but your wetness makes it smoother to push him deeper. “So big,” you mumble, bottoming out. You know damn well Jimin likes to be praised and if the smirk that stretches on his lips is anything to go by, he enjoys what you just said. “That feels so good, sir.” You start moving your hips languidly.

“Yeah?” Jimin quips, hands gripping your waist so tightly it almost makes the skin bruise. “Then show me what a good girl you are for me. Fuck, look at you. You’re so hot.” His palms cup your breasts, thumbs stroking your nipples.

You keen at the praise and quicken your pace. Your thighs start to burn but you ignore that, bouncing on your boyfriend’s dick like there’s no tomorrow. The room is filled with lewd noises, skin slapping on skin. Jimin looks down, staring at his cock coated in your juices as it disappears inside your hole. He curses at the sight.

Your legs start to shake, huffs leaving your lips. “Sir–please,” you whine, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

“What do you need, babygirl?” he asks, pinching your nipples. You squeal, your pace losing its previous rhythm.

“I’m so close.” you stammer. “Please–touch me.”

“Where you do you want me to touch you, baby?” He ignores your whimpers, the way your pussy keeps squeezing his cock in a vice grip. “Here?” He touches your tits again and you shake your head violently. “Or here–” His fingers find your clit and you cry out loudly. You feel so full, his cock hits your cervix every time you drop down onto him.

“Yes, yes,” you chant, mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut. You probably look right now like a professional porn star but you couldn’t care less, not when you’re so close to the climax. “Sir–fuckfuckfuck, please!”

“There you go,” Jimin coos, circling your sensitive bud with his thumb. “Come for me, baby.”

You’re gushing around his dick, arousal leaking out of your hole and coating his thighs with your release. Your upper body gives out and you collapse onto Jimin, your cunt pulsing from the intense pleasure you’ve just experienced.

“Oh god,” you mumble. “I just saw the answer to the whole universe.”

You feel Jimin's chest shaking with laughter and when you look up, you find him grinning at you. “That good?”

“That good.” you confirm, sighing tiredly.

“Are you okay?” You hear him asking. No matter how much he likes to push you around and fuck until you’re seeing stars, he always makes sure if you’re feeling comfortable to continue.

You spare him a nod. “You know I can handle it,” you say, lifting yourself up. “I’m a tough girl, right?” Despite the oversensitivity, you start rocking your hips again. “M-made for you.”

Jimin smirks. “Yeah, made for me,” he confirms and slaps your ass. Your pussy flatters around his cock. “Not like this,” he mutters and turns you onto your back with one, swift motion. “Much better.”

You pout. “You didn’t like it when I was riding your cock, sir?” You’re bluffing, but a girl can her fun too.

He clicks his tongue, guiding his cock through your folds again. “Oh, baby, I was enjoying it very much,” he says, picking up his speed. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer. “But now I want it harder.”

He fucks you just like he likes the most; fast and rough, unforgiving. He leans down for a messy kiss that’s all teeth tongue and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees his saliva dripping down your chin.

(He decides right here and there that he might wanna explore his newfound fantasy soon.)

Soon you’re feeling the coil in your stomach tightening for the second time, embarrassingly quickly so. You moan, cunt squeezing around his dick. “Again?” Jimin asks, voice laced with both mirth and disbelief. Tears well in your eyes and you give him a nod. “Such a fucking slut.” he spits, slithering himself into you even faster than before.

Your third and final orgasm is so powerful and sudden, it nearly makes you black out. Jimin curses, fucking you through it. “Kiss me,” you whimper deliriously and he obliges, slipping his tongue inside your mouth. “I love you.” you whisper into his lips and that’s what sends him over the edge.

“I love you, I love you–fuck.” he groans and spills himself inside, coating your pussy with his seed.

He collapses next you, chest heaving with every exhale. Your legs feel like jelly and you know you’ll have trouble walking tomorrow. Just when you’re about to tell Jimin to call in sick and spend the whole day in bed instead, he suddenly sits up.

“Wait, I forgot I have another present for us.” he says, rushing to pick something up from underneath the bed.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Jimin, I swear to God, if you bought us matching t-shirts–”

He grins like a child, showing you two white pillows, the most basic ones you could ever think of, with ‘his side’ and ‘her side' written on them. It's cringy and ridiculous and you fight an urge to punch him, but you don't.

Because it's Jimin and you will never complain about it.

Because you love him. And that's all that matters.

#jimin smut #btsbookclub #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #smutcentralnet #bangtanhq #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin fluff #bts smut #my writing

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orangepanic · 2 years

Text

@badlucksav asked me a question about General Iroh getting his nails painted it somehow turned into this:

The meeting with King Wu had been in the works for months. Relations with the Earth Kingdom, or Earth Republic, or whatever that boy wanted to call it now had been tense ever since Raiko had refused to get involved in that internal nonsense with Kuvira. And rightly so, considering Kuvira had turned out to be a few doors past insane. Good riddance. The United Republic had taken a pounding anyway in the end though, no thanks to Wu, but that shared pain didn’t seem to be enough for the King to understand Raiko’s position. It was short-sighted of him, but true. Accordingly, he’d put his best man on organizing a meeting that would hopefully be the first step towards resuming normal trade relations in the east. Raiko didn’t like General Iroh and never had, but he couldn’t deny he was a damned good diplomat. He’d also known Wu for years. If anyone could bring the man around, Raiko was forced to admit it was probably him. Or at least, it had been.

The President glared at the general as he shuffled his papers and moved to the next point on the agenda. Of all the ridiculous things. And a prince! Raiko might not like the man, but he’d thought he at least had a sense of decorum.

General Iroh paused, then cleared his throat. “Mr. President,” he said calmly. “Did you have something to add?”

“No,” huffed Raiko. “Keep going.”

Iroh glanced down at the papers, then met his eye. “Then may I ask why you keep staring at my hands?”

Raiko bit his lip. The general’s nails were, in fact, hot pink. A bright, glaring hot pink. Which he must surely know. He’d probably done it just to spite him. The thought turned his stomach. It was just the kind of subtle insubordination he’d gotten from Iroh for years. The sneaky bastard was always going around him, subverting him with just enough plausible deniability to keep his nose clean.

Abruptly Raiko decided he’d gone too far.

“Your nails, General,” he snapped. “Has it escaped your notice that they’re pink?”

“Obviously not.” Iroh looked down at his hands and smiled. “Why, do you think it clashes with the uniform?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck if it clashes!”

“I like it,” said a voice. Raiko blinked. He’d forgotten King Wu was even there. The other man beamed at Iroh from across the table. “Slick.”

“Thank you.” Iroh wiggled his fingers in smug satisfaction. It made Raiko’s blood boil.

“My office has a strict code of conduct—” he began.

“Which says nothing about the painting of nails,” Iroh finished. “I’ve checked. Besides, your secretaries have had colored nails for years.” He arched an eyebrow. “Or do you only take issue with it because I’m a man?”

“Of course not!” Raiko sputtered, though of course that was most of it. What man would want pink nails, let alone think they were appropriate for business? They could do what they wanted on their own time, he supposed, but here? It simply wasn’t done.

General Iroh looked thoughtfully down at his nails, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Did it ever occur to you,” he said, “that I have a daughter? And that she knew I had an important meeting today and might want me to feel pretty?”

King Wu burst out laughing. “I love that,” he said. “That’s so cute. Major dad points, Iroh.”

Iroh smiled. “Thank you.” Then he gathered his papers and looked squarely at Raiko. “If we’re done discussing any assumptions about my personal appearance, I’d like to move on to the next section. We have more important things to talk about.”

Raiko glowered at him, then gave him a curt nod.

Of all the ridiculous things.

#iroh ii #raiko #ficlet

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Note

My dearest bouncey! I have a prompt for you if you like: Witchers as a 90s/2000s boyband 😂🤷‍♀️💖💖💖

Ellie, darling, this started as 500 words and turned into like 3.2k words and also a piece of art so... thank you so much. also shout out to my amazing art pal @mawbwehownets for the little comic!!

this contains lots of 90′s/early 2000′s nostalgia so there is also that

tw: hornyish, smooching, perilous music video situations (corny)

---

“Do I have to?” Geralt groans, letting his forehead thud down against the linoleum surface of their tour bus’s shitty dining table.

“Yes,” Vesemir says. His tone leaves no room for argument or whining. “But what if I let you pick the winner personally?”

“There have to be like fifteen thousand letters to go through! How will I manage that in less than two days?”

“There were a few more than fifteen thousand applications, Geralt. There were probably closer to five hundred thousand.”

Lambert wolf whistles and Aiden claps.

Geralt grimaces and keeps his face hidden against the table, releasing a slightly muffled: “Fuck.”

“Language,” Vesemir frowns. He tugs gently at Geralt’s loose ponytail and the singer lifts his head up from the table again, looking at his manager with beseeching eyes. “Anyway, we’ve narrowed it down to about fifty. You can go through those and choose whichever person you’d like to play your love interest. But you have to give me an answer by Friday. The shoot is in three weeks and whoever wins this stupid competition will need time to make arrangements.”

“I thought we were footing the bill for their food and their hotel room,” Geralt raised an eyebrow. “What would they need to arrange?”

“Not everyone can board their pets at the flick of a wrist, dude,” Lambert scoffs from his seat on the couch. Aiden lies draped across his lap, as usual, and the two of them are halfheartedly watching The Lion King. They can only watch movies when the bus is stationary, otherwise the VHS player might move too much while running and damage the film inside the cassette. Even taking advantage of such a rare opportunity, Lambert and Aiden still seem more interested in each other than Jonathan Taylor Thomas’s voice acting.

“Lambert has a point,” Vesemir sighs. He scrubs his hand over his lightly whiskered face like a tired grandparent and sighs again, more heavily. “It’ll be good for you boys to have a normal person around for a few days. Maybe they’ll be able to put some things into perspective.”

Geralt can only roll his eyes a little bit and thank his manager regardless of his own feelings; he and the rest of TW5 owe the seasoned musical expert their entire careers. Without Vesemir’s help and mentorship they would never have made it past their first disastrous record deal. They certainly wouldn’t have reached the heights they’re at now, enjoying international fame and recognition.

The begrudging frontman accepts a heavy plastic bin of file folders from Vesemir and sets them down next to his bunk. “Are these organized in any particular way?”

“Nope.”

“Cool.”

Geralt digs his hand into the pile and pulls out a piece of pale-pink stationary, eager to get started and, by extension, get finished. He can already tell that it’s going to be a long couple of days.

---

“I want this one, please, Ves.”

“Huh?” Vesemir looks up from his palm-pilot. Geralt is standing in front of him and trying to hand him something.

“I want this guy to be in the music video with me.” Geralt holds out the letter again, fingers trapping the accompanying polaroid headshot with great care. A pair of bright blue eyes stares up from the photo, highlighting the subject’s bright smile and unruly mop of messy brown hair. Vesemir tries to hide his amusement; totally Geralt’s type, if the big oaf could admit to having one.

“Alright. I’ll get everything in order. We start shooting in two and a half weeks so get your asses to the gym, please.”

“Yes, Ves,” all five young men chorus.

“Tomorrow,” Coen mutters a moment later than everyone else, not glancing up from his composition notebook. Vesemir nods in understanding. Coen is the best lyricist of the lot and it’s easier to let him work when inspiration strikes than beg him to focus when he can’t get a solitary idea to stick.

“So why’d you pick that one, Ger-bear?” Lambert drawls. Aiden nods and leans against Lambert’s side. Geralt can’t help the mild jealousy that overtakes him every time he sees his bandmates touch each other with such casual affection. He wants that intimacy, that softness behind the veneer of famous indifference. He wants someone to hold.

“Yeah. What drew your attention to that poor unfortunate soul. Was it the floppy hair, the big blue eyes, or the dopey grin?” Aiden smirks.

“Hmm.”

“Fuck you,” Eskel sighs, looking between the two troublemakers with the tired gaze of an eldest sibling, “Fuck you for even asking in the first place and expecting a straight answer.”

“Straight is the furthest thing from his answer,” Lambert chuckles. He is promptly smacked in the head with one of the couch’s hideous throw pillows. The youngest member of the band rubs the side of his face and chuckles, “Alright, I deserved that one.”

---

“Holy shit!” Jaskier practically screams. “Holy motherfucking shit!”

“What!?” Yennefer comes flying around the corner. “What’s wrong!?”

“Nothing is wrong, Yenna! Everything is awesome! Everything absolutely fucking rocks!”

“Did you get hit on the head by a falling branch between here and the mailbox or what? You were whining about your finals work not five min-”

“Look at this!” Jaskier shoves an open envelope into her hands and cuts her off. Yennefer reads the watermarked documents once. Twice. Her eyes almost pop out of her head when the words and their meanings finally sink in.

“Are you fucking with me right now?”

“No, I am absolutely not!” her giddy roommate cheers, bouncing up and down in place. “I did it! I won!”

“Holy shit.”

“I know! I get to kiss Geralt deRiv!” he practically cackles. Then freezes. “Holy fuck I get to kiss Geralt deRiv.”

“You said that already,” Yen teases. She shoves the paperwork back into his hands and grabs a takeout menu from the junk drawer near her hip. “Since you won the makeout lottery, you get to buy lunch. Lucky bastard.”

---

“So this will be your dressing room,” someone’s underpaid PA says, ushering Jaskier into a small, bright room. “Priscilla will be here shortly to get you into hair and makeup.”

“Oh, uh- thanks!”

“Yup.”

And with that, the young man disappears back down the hallway toward the sound stage. Jaskier jogs his leg anxiously as he waits for Priscilla to arrive, nervous and otherwise totally alone in the huge grey building. As the minutes tick by and his heart rate rises, Jaskier’s intrusive thoughts make an unwanted appearance: What if they forget about me being here? What if there’s been a mistake and they accidentally hired two love interests and I just sit in here for hours all alone while-

“Hi!” a bright, peppy blonde woman flies through the door and startles him back to reality. “Nice to meet you, I’m Priscilla! You can call me Priss; I’ll be doing your hair and makeup for the video this week!”

“Oh… hi. I’m Julian, but I prefer Jaskier.”

“Lovely! Well, Jaskier, is your hair naturally this color?”

“Y-Yes?”

“Perfect! I don’t want to mess with such a lovely shade of natural brown, but do you mind if I give it a bit of a trim? I have a few ideas for styles right here in my book- How do you feel about some feathering back here? I think-” she fluffs a few of the hairs around the nape of Jaskier’s neck “-I could really bring out the curls if I adjusted the length a bit and used some product.”

“Just, uhm, go for it, then! Feel free to make me as pretty as possible!” Jaskier declares. He’s committing to this experience wholeheartedly, determined to allow himself every opportunity for positive change. He wants to really let himself enjoy it, and he needs a haircut anyway. Priscilla spends an hour washing, cutting, drying, and styling his hair into a lovely fringed sweep across his forehead. It ends just above his brows, giving his face a slightly softer shape than usual. He grins over his shoulder, “I love it! I’m going to miss you when I’m back at Oxenfurt. Good stylists are so hard to find.”

Priss blushes and nudges against his shoulder, “Oh, you little charmer.”

“I mean it,” he says, examining himself in the mirror. “I look like I could really be worthy of a heroic rescue! This is going to be such a fantastic memory, and I appreciate it. Thank you so much.”

Priss bites back a genuine tear and smiles, “Now that your natural prettiness has been mildly enhanced, let’s get you over to wardrobe, shall we?”

“Wardrobe? Do I have, like, a costume? What’s the music video even about?”

“They didn’t tell you any of this when you got here?”

“Not… not really.”

“Well, my darling, I think you’re really going to like it; they’ve got you in Versace for the first scene.”

“Versace!?”

Then Jaskier is being ushered into a bright, colorful room full to bursting with grim-faced, middle-aged women and he loses track of his only braincell for the rest of the morning.

---

“You must be Julian!” Lambert declares, bounding up to him and grinning. It’s a feral, animalistic grin and Jaskier resists the sudden urge to take a step back.

“I prefer Jaskier, if you don’t mind too much,” Jaskier corrects him quietly. Lambert rolls his eyes in a long-suffering kind of way and throws a meaty arm around the shorter man’s shoulders, completely ignoring the wardrobe technician’s wincing as he wrinkles the expensive silk jacket.

“No need to be quiet and polite around here, my dude. We’re just a bunch of rowdy idiots, aren’t we, guys?”

“Hell yeah!” Aiden calls back. Eskel sighs like the put-upon nanny in a Victorian Redanian comedy.

“Speak for yourself,” Coen barely lifts his frosted tips up from his book long enough to speak. Geralt is-

Holy motherfucking Britney Spears on toast.

Geralt is the hottest thing Jaskier has ever seen in his short, unfulfilled-until-right-now life. Forget Ralph Macchio. Forget Leonardo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet and Winona Ryder. This man is… Geralt deRiv is… he’s the picture of perfection. And he’s right there, standing in front of an elaborate party set with his thick, beautiful arms crossed over his chest and his eyes trained on the floor, as if willing it to swallow him whole. Jaskier realizes that he probably didn’t have any choice in the matter; maybe this was just as awkward and uncomfortable for Geralt as it was for Jaskier.

“Ger-bear!” Lambert whoops, yanking Jaskier closer to the brooding frontman. If only he were brave enough to struggle for escape; alas. “This is your boy-toy for the week. Goes by Jaskier, apparently.”

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt manages to grunt. “How did you like the script?”

“I haven’t uh- I haven’t actually seen it?”

“Shit. Fuck. One second,” Geralt huffs, disappearing into the crowd of technicians and machinery operators and PAs. Jaskier loves him already, for real. Sure, he was pretty in the music videos and promo material, but the way he said fuck like it was the noblest word he could think of… Geralt interrupts his train of thought by coming back with a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He shuffle-shoves them into Jaskier’s arms immediately. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine and shy, more tenuous than his usual goofy grin. He flips through the pages, glancing between the script to his expensive suit, “So I’m guessing we’re at a party for this scene? Or something?”

“This is… where we meet. This is where… you and I uh…”

Jaskier’s eyes scan the page as Geralt’s ability to speak slowly leaves him.

Lover ENTERS LEFT, dressed to the nines. Lover adjusts their tie/boa and takes a look around the room. S/He looks sad and a little hopeful. PULL BACK to Geralt, who approaches slowly. Their eyes meet. HOLD SHOT. PULL BACK as they move towards each other. Geralt pulls Lover into his arms and they begin to dance.

“Oh, wow.”

“I hope it’s okay! If you’re not comfortable with that kind of thing we can-”

“I’ll be alright, thank you. I came here to put my acting chops to the test. Well, that and meet my favorite band, of course. Thank you again, by the way. It’s been wonderful so far and I really appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“Allowing? Psh. Geralt ha-” Lambert is cut off by Aiden, who elbows him sharply in the side. “Ow! What the fuck, babe?”

“I knew it!” Jaskier crows, distracted. “I knew you two were an item!”

“They’re not exactly subtle.”

“They never confirm anything either,” Jaskier retorts. Geralt shrugs his acknowledgement and moves back towards the set. Jaskier follows after the taller man like a lost puppy, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, hungry for detail even in his anxiety ridden state. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and he doesn’t want to waste a solitary second of it. “This is incredible, really just...wow. You guys do this all the time? You get to make tiny little movies for already great songs that you get to perform for millions of adoring fans? And you get paid!?”

Geralt hadn’t ever really thought about it like that. He’d been raised in the industry. He’d signed to Kaer Morhen Records as an early teen because his mother was a member of the Board of Directors and he’d been making music ever since; an outsider’s perspective to things was… new. A little strange. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty much what we do.”

“Wow.”

“It’s not that exciting, I promise.”

“Have you ever written a fifteen page paper about the history of lute-string design and manufacturing?”

“No.”

“Then kindly shut the fuck up about what I should consider exciting,” Jaskier grins. Geralt is immediately and irrevocably smitten. Fuck. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes! “So, which door am I entering from?”

“Left,” Geralt points. Jaskier skips over and begins to introduce himself to the sound and lights crew. His smile seems to be as infectious as his cheer and soon the entire set crew is smiling at one another. There’s been a literal shift in the atmosphere; if he didn’t know any better, the TW5 frontman thinks Jaskier might be some kind of magical creature, because he can’t just be human. Geralt is well and truly fucked, and everyone in the band already knows.

---

“What do you think?” Jaskier asks, slipping anxiously from behind the changing screen. The Versace is gone and in its place are a pair of tight, high-waisted blue pleather pants and a billowing white shirt, which has been strategically ripped in several places to reveal slivers of the lightly tanned skin that lies beneath. He looks like he’s in desperate need of rescuing. He looks like every fantasy Geralt has ever had about the perfect guy. He looks like a fucking dream.

“Nice,” he says.

Lambert and Aiden wolf-whistle and cheer as they approach. Aiden claps twice, loudly, and shoots Jaskier a set of finger guns, “Hot damn, baby. You single? You lookin’ to mingle? Because I am bi and spoon like a Pringle.”

“First of all, babe, I love you but that was the most horrific combination of words yet known to man. Second of all, yeah, I’d dump Aiden for you for sure,” Lambert adds. Jaskier is at a total loss for words. His mouth hangs open and his breath comes in uneven little gasps for a moment.

“Uh… I- Thank you?”

“Oh god, Eskel! Eskel, he’s short circuiting, do something.”

“You absolute-” Eskel groans and makes his way over to the gathered group. He tugs Jaskier away and over to the other end of the set, where a comically huge rocket/bomb (Jaskier can’t tell) is standing at the center of a vaguely science-themed room. A laboratory, maybe? Or like, a really weird spacecraft? A hospital run by rocket scientists? It doesn’t matter, it’s the Evil Lair of the Villain and that’s where Jaskier is being held captive. “Here, Cameron and Elise will help you get set up for the next scene. I’m sorry about the boys they’re... gay?”

“I understand,” Jaskier nods sagely and Eskel relaxes. Then for comedy’s sake he adds an equally dramatic, “I too am... gay.”

The set dresser, an electrician, and a few specialists (likely a rope rigger among them) come over and tie Jaskier to the bomb/rocket/villainous mechanism, ending his conversation with Eskel, who is now in a much better mood than he was before.

Jaskier is told to make sure his hands are crossed behind the small of his back and the director instructs him to wiggle back and forth “as convincingly as possible without actually getting loose or moving the ropes too much”. Which is manageable, he supposes.

“Then, when the chorus comes up, we’ll get a few shots of the boys dancing in front of you,” the director continues to explain. That’s… kind weird, but okay. I’ve seen weirder. “Then we’ll do the action shots, with Geralt rescuing you. Are you okay to do the kiss, or would you rather not? We have dynamic shots with or without, so it’s totally up to you.”

“I’m fine with that,” Jaskier smiles shyly. “I consent to be smooched.”

“Adorable,” Lambert calls. Jaskier blushes and the director shoots Lambert a glare.

“He’s already pink enough, don’t make me change my gels you little shithead!”

“Sorry, Pierre!”

“Fucking sorry my ass,” Pierre grumbles beneath his breath. Then he smiles at Jaskier. “Do something nasty to him for me, will you? Not too nasty but… just a little?”

“I’ve got your back,” Jaskier winks.

“No plotting! Not fair!” Aiden whines.

“You have a team,” Pierre retorts. “Now I have a team.”

“Rules are rules,” Eskel sighs. “Now can we please shoot this damn video?”

“Right,” Pierre claps, getting everyone’s attention. “Places!”

---

Geralt races up the stairs, trying to keep the long sleeves of his black mesh shirt from catching on any of the set pieces. The solid black t-shirt he’s wearing underneath makes his arms and back look bulkier than normal; it’s a visual technique to make him look larger than Jaskier, whose billowing white shirt will hide how wide his shoulders actually are. Fuck, those are some nice shoulders. And the smattering of dark chest hair that peeks from the front of the college student’s shirt? Geralt wants to bury his face in it.

Okay, focus.

He reaches the top of the set and rushes towards Jaskier, ripping the ropes from around his torso and pulling him close. He cups the back of Jaskier’s head with his upstage hand, framing the slightly smaller man for the camera and making him seem even shorter, another trick of angles and body posturing. Geralt plays Jaskier like an instrument, bending him back by placing his downstage arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing their mouths together and holding them still for as long as it takes the director to yell, “Cut!” with a satisfied tone of voice.

Geralt’s suspicions are confirmed when Pierre laughs and claps some more and cries, “Print it, lads! That was a one-take wonder!”

He tries to ignore the way Jaskier’s shoulders slump as if disappointed. “Good job,�� he manages to say.

“You, too.” Geralt wishes he could keep a picture of Jaskier smiling in his back pocket forever. No other sight could light up the world so effortlessly. “Thanks for being gentle.”

“I’m trying to sweep you off your feet,” the singer shrugs. Jaskier wiggles his eyebrows and follows Geralt down the narrow set stairs.

“Are you, really?”

“Is it working?” Geralt asks, turning to look up at Jaskier. The student pauses to look at him and his foot catches on an uneven board. He topples forward with a short cry of surprise and seems surprised when Geralt reaches out to catch him. “Jaskier!”

“Oh my god!” Lambert races over, Aiden hot on his heels. “Are you okay, dude?”

“I’m fine,” Jaskier laughs, a little breathless. “Just a little shocked.”

“You should take him to get a snack or something,” Eskel says, nudging his shoulder against Geralt’s. “He’s been busy all day and hasn’t even been to craft services.”

“You haven’t eaten?” Geralt asks, honestly baffled. Jaskier shakes his head, face heating once again. He wishes he could stop blushing, but Geralt’s presence seems to make it impossible. He wraps one arm around the younger man’s temptingly slender waist and leads him towards the food carts. He shoves a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of punch into Jaskier’s hands, not giving him a chance to argue. “Here, I’ll have something, too.”

“Thanks,” Jaskier smiles, understanding that he is, in turn, being understood. They sit comfortable folding chairs off to the side, food spread across their laps. Jaskier laughs and chats around his mouthfuls, pulling things from Geralt like his favorite color and his least favorite nicknames. Songs he liked and dances he disliked.

“You made it fun again, today,” the singer smiles. “Thank you for that. I wish you could be here for every video shoot.”

“Looking for another member of the band?” Jaskier jokes, doing some half-hearted jazz hands. Geralt shakes his head and laughs.

“I wish we were,” he sighs. “But I guess five is the magic number.”

“Makes the dances look cooler,” Jaskier nods. “I agree with whoever made that decision. I wouldn’t dare ruin the aesthetic.”

Geralt laughs again and Vesemir turns to look, honestly shocked at the volume of the sound.

“Plus, you can’t be the frontman if there’s no front.”

“Shut up,” Geralt chuckles, still grinning broadly.

Vesemir makes a phone call.

---

2 Weeks Later, Backstage in Kaedwen

---

“He’s been sulking like this ever since Jaskier went back to Oxenfurt,” Lambert whines. “C’mon Vesemir, do something.”

“What do you want me to do, make Geralt’s boyfriend appear out of thin air?”

“Not my boyfriend,” Geralt growls, stomping past his bandmates and manager. He can’t help but feel grumpy. Jaskier had been like the sun, bringing light and wonder to everything he touched, and without that joy around it doesn’t seem worth the extra effort to smile. So he’s been moping.

“Fucking hell,” Vesemir sighs. “Thank goodness I thought ahead.”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks, joining the little group in the hallway outside the dressing room. “What did you think of?”

“Three,” Vesemir smiles, glancing at his watch. “Two… One…”

“Boooooys,” echoes a high tenor. “Where’s my welcome wagon, Vesemir?”

“Jaskier!” Aiden practically screams, leaping out of the dressing room and flying down the hall. Lambert follows at a sprint and Vesemir hears the resounding oof oh fuck of both giddy musicians hitting their mark.

Geralt comes back down the hall at a jog, eyes searching frantically. “I thought I heard-”

“Geralt!”

Vesemir’s heart clenches in his chest at the way Geralt’s face lights up. At the end of the hallway, surrounded by spilled luggage and apologetic boyband members, is Jaskier. Geralt floats to him, it seems, like he’s dreaming the whole thing. Jaskier takes his hands and then releases them and wraps his arms low around Geralt’s hips instead.

“I missed you the most,” he whispers, just for Geralt to hear. “Couldn’t sleep without listening to your CD. I know it’s silly but I really like you.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispers reverently into his shaggy brown hair. “What are you doing here?”

“I was going to do my thesis on pop culture’s relation to music history,” he says. “And then the manager of TW5 called Oxenfurt and offered me the opportunity to do some… first hand research while I worked on finishing the paper.”

“R-Really? You’re going to be here… every day?”

“Do you… do you not want me he-”

Geralt kisses him before he can even finish the question. It’s a stupid question anyway, of course Geralt wants him here. Wants him right here, kissing him silly. The singer presses his lips desperately, crushingly against Jaskier’s; he never wants to part from this man again. He never wants to be without that glorious laughter and contagious liveliness. Who knew that life could be so full of delight and happiness if he only let it?

He kisses Jaskier for all he’s worth and more, pouring his heart and soul into it. When they pull apart, both gasping for air, Geralt asks, “Stay with me, Jaskier? You don’t have to do anything I just-”

“I’d love to be the big spoon,” Jaskier winks, whispering again. “Thank you, Geralt, for the rescue.”

#geraskier #bouncey's buddies #prompt fill #geraskier fic #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #getting together #boyband au #geraskier boyband au #the witcher five and their hit song 'please lambert stop farting on the bus'#ellie has the braincell #thirsty jaskier #thirsty geralt #soft geralt #protective geralt #clumsy jaskier #soft boys content #bouncey's endless au collection #bouncey's endless getting together fics

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whipped-cream-writings · 3 years

Text

WC: 3.2k

Pairing: Hitoshi Shinso x Reader

Requested by @in-this-house-we-stan-izuku!

Genre: Angst/Fluff

TW: Toxic family, cursing

A/N: This is the longest fic I’ve ever written and I had so much fun writing it! I hope you like it too :D

The news is a fickle thing.

No matter how big an affair would be featured on the headline, it would always be replaced the next day.

Possibly worst of all, the news would spawn rumors. And those rumors would grow and burn through the kingdom, with each retelling falling further and further from the truth.

The servants of the castle would tell you these rumors. Never to your face, of course - some of them shook when you got too close to them. But during their duties, they would spread these strange, twisted rumors from one person to the next.

The royal advisor would tell you, your mother, and your father the news. Most days would be boring, plain, forgetful, even. But news was news, no matter how interesting rumors may be.

But today, the royal advisor ran into the throne room, sweat dripping down his face.

“A thief! There’s a thief!”

The rumors were true.

“Do you forget who you’re talking to?” Your father seethes between his teeth.

“N-no! Of course not, your highness. Forgive me.” The advisor begins to tremble, and he doubles over, groveling at the King’s feet.

You hate that satisfaction you see in the King's eyes.

In your father's eyes.

“Rise. There’s a thief?”

“Yes, your majesty!”

“Where has he been spotted?”

“The houses of the nobles. They’ll return home to find their house completely undisturbed, yet all of their riches and valuables will be gone. In their place, this is all that’s left.” He passes a slip of paper forward, and the king takes it gingerly. You peek from your throne, disregarding the sharp glare your mother gives you.

The paper is almost barren. There’s only a single letter, written with flair: H.

A strange signature for a thief, you think.

“The nobles have enough money to buy back what was stolen.” The queen says smoothly, her tone sharp and refined. “Why should this concern us?”

“Because, your highness, the thief seems to be getting closer and closer to the castle by the day. He started on the outskirts of the kingdom, but he’s steadily moving inward.”

Despite yourself, you blurt out, “Are there any-”

“Silence. Ignore them.” He turns to you only moments later. “You are only to listen. Besides, you have more pressing issues.”

You bite your tongue and fall back into your throne.

The golden chair is cold, and it's much too big. Just sitting in it makes you feel like your parents.

You hate that feeling.

“Spread the guards all across the castle,” He demands, “Have two remain outside each of our quarters at all times. Give them orders to restrain any who they don’t recognize.”

“Of course, your majesty. I’ll send the word.” The advisor scurries off, his hands still shaking.

“You shouldn’t be too worried about this, my dear.” Your mother speaks in a sickly sweet tone that makes dread settle in the pit of your stomach. “You have to choose a suitor sooner or later.”

“She’s correct. It was not your place to intervene.”

“My apologies.” You grumble. “Forgive me for being invested in the wellbeing of the citizens.”

Your father tch-s at you. “You are not the ruler of this kingdom yet.

“Never forget who is in charge.”

Another night, another suitor appears before you.

Perhaps you hated this one the most.

His words were sweet, yet laced with venom, and he regarded you in a light that wasn’t human in the slightest. He sang about love and how he knew you were the one, yet his words were meaningless once he became drunk on the thoughts of even more power.

You turned him down, as you had with the twenty-three other suitors your father had chosen.

“I quite liked him. Charming, handsome, a prince... He had it all.” The queen side-eyes you. “Tell me, why did you turn him down?”

“He was a fool. And a bastard.” You smirk dryly.

“Do not speak in such a vulgar manner.” Your father's eyes flash. “He was a perfectly fine young man.”

“He looked at me as if I were nothing more than meat!”

“Will you turn everyone down?” The queen hisses. “You have a duty to marry. Love is never involved.”

Your father agrees, and your heart sinks into your stomach.

The king releases a drawn-out sigh. “You will be marrying the man I see fit for you.”

His words feel like a slap to the face.

“You said I'd have a choice!”

“You’ve had twenty three choices. You’re out of time.”

“Maybe you should find better suitors that don’t see me as a pawn in their little game!”

“I’ve chosen the best of the best, you spoiled brat!”

There’s a delicate silence after his words. His breaths are heavy, and the weight of his words slowly sink onto his shoulders.

“Stay out of my sight until dawn.” His voice is soft, yet goosebumps rise on your arms.

But you comply.

You drag yourself up the stairs and into your room, locking the door behind you. It wasn’t the first time he had called you a brat, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last, yet, your lip quivers as soon as you’re alone.

Maybe it was that look in his eyes - that fire of pure hate that he saved only for his greatest enemies - that made you so upset.

You doubted you would ever know.

The castle feels unbearable. It wasn't the first time it had felt this way, but this was the first time it had started to crush you. The family pictures feel meaningless. Hollow.

So you grab your cloak and face the window.

With rope that you had stolen from the barracks and anticipation building in your stomach, the moon beams at you as you descend the castle walls and retreat into the town.

When you were younger, you saw the town only through carriages and the windows of your room. That was before the castle became the place you hated more than anything in the world.

But now, walking among the people under the darkness of the night, walking as no more than a civilian, you wished you had started making these escapes sooner.

Laughter filled the air where there would be tense silence. Singing and dancing would replace stiff, robotic movements. Fighting and teasing and pure, contagious joy spreads a fluffy warmth through your chest.

For once a day, in the darkest hours of the twilight, you were free.

You stop by the restaurant that you visited every night. The woman there was lovely - with short chestnut locks and pink cheeks, she greets you with that bright smile she seemed to save just for you once again.

“You want to try the next thing on the menu?” She giggles when you nod excitedly. “Coming up!” You drop the money on the counter and thank her, sliding into one of the empty seats.

“Excuse me.” A weary voice asks. “Is this seat taken?”

You turn around and see a pale man talking to you. He has wild tufts of lavender hair, unlike any shade you’ve ever seen. His eyes are violet too, and there are dark bags under them.

He’s... attractive, in a black cat kind of way.

You shake your head and snap out of your daze. “Uh, no. Go ahead.”

He smiles and settles into the empty seat. “Thanks, your majesty.”

“It’s nothing-” You cut yourself off, and his smile becomes a smirk. “Is it... Is it that obvious?”

“Not really,” He says, “It was a good call coming out here at night, though. You would’ve been caught within seconds if it were during the day.”

You sigh. “Well then, stranger, how could you tell?”

“You look at everything like you’re amazed. And call me Shinso, your highness.” A small smile grows on your face.

“It really is amazing, especially compared to the castle. And please stop with the formalities. I’ve come to hate them.”

“Fair enough. I mean, it would be a little fun to have people kneeling at your feet at first, but it probably gets tiring.”

“Very.” You sigh. “So, what brings you around here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. Plus, I’m hungry.” He snickers. “What about you?”

“I don’t want to get married.” His eyes go wide, and you can’t help but let out a loud laugh.

“Wow.” A rosy glow spreads across his face. “Really?”

“Yeah. All of the suitors my father has picked out for me are bastards. So now he’s choosing for me and it’s just…”

“A nightmare?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

He winces. “Sounds rough.”

“It could be worse, I suppose.” You sigh.

“The king and queen have always seemed a bit off.” Shinso ponders aloud. “They felt fake.”

“They are,” You reply without hesitation, “They’re insufferable.”

“I can imagine." He sighs and regards you out of the corner of his eye for a few moments. “I would offer for you to hide away at my house or something like that, but I have a feeling the royal family wouldn't take it too well.”

You resist the urge to rub your eyes. He seems genuinely... kind. It feels like you haven't met someone like that in years.

“I wish I could take you up on that offer, really. I’d have to get married first. Then my parents would finally get off of my back.” He nods slowly.

“Well, when’s the wedding?”

You blink. “You’re kidding.”

“Not at all.” His satisfied smirk only grows.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll be sure to let you know once I find out.”

“I'll be waiting, your majesty.” He rises from his chair, waving to you as he strolls away. You wave back, trying to resist the growing grin on your face.

It’s only after he’s gone that you realize that he never received his order.

The dawn was supposed to mean new beginnings. It was meant to wipe away the mess of the day before and welcome the mess that would be made today.

The dawn never did that. Not within the castle, at least.

When you exit your quarters and descend the stairs, the king is still fuming, and the queen is still ever so distant. Your “mistake” from yesterday would never be erased, not even by the dawn.

“I’ve selected your suitor.” Your father greets you, his arms folded over his chest. The queen is no more than a shadow behind him.

“Who is he?” You ask, trying to mask the anxiety that eats you alive.

“Patience.” Your mother chides, and you bite your tongue once again.

The king gestured to the frozen guards, and they come to life like puppets, pulling back the door and revealing your future husband.

Your heart sinks.

It’s the man from yesterday.

“As you may recall, this is Prince Monoma,” The king ignores the glare you give him. “There will be a ball celebrating the marriage tomorrow.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” You can catch the smirk on his face when he bows.

It’s nothing like Shinso’s-

Why are you thinking about him right now?

“I look forward to getting to know you.” He stands in front of you and grins at the anger on your face. “My love.”

Oh, how your blood boils.

“Meet with me soon, Monoma. We have much to discuss. And you,” The king’s gaze locks on you, “The queen will help you organize the wedding ceremony.”

As you understood it, the king and queen would have control over everything; the ball and the wedding.

You can’t say you’re too surprised - they had been doing this before you could even talk - yet, somehow, you managed to feel disappointed.

“First, however, we must make the announcement.” The king calls for the advisor, who scurries to his feet like a frightened mouse.

“Draft up the announcement,” He orders, “The heir to the throne has finally found a suitor; Prince Monoma of the Southern Kingdom.”

“A-ah, congratulations, your majesty.” He bows to you and Monoma, who wears a crooked smile. “I'll draft it right away, my liege.” He scrambles away, and you can’t help but feel bad for the poor man.

The document is submitted to the king only an hour later.

In tight clothes and in a crown that looked like the kings’, you stand and listen to your father lie to the citizens. Lie about how the two of you met and had fallen and love. Monoma is beaming and waving to the people, relishing in the praise and support of the crowd.

But your gaze isn’t on Monoma.

It’s on the head of vibrant lavender hair amid the crowd.

You return to the restaurant that night, playing with your hands ever so anxiously. The singing was louder tonight, but the tunes and melodies made your stomach twist and knot. You take your regular seat, but you don’t order, no matter how bright the smile is on the face of the lovely woman behind the counter.

Your hands are trembling. Your father’s voice creeps inside your head - It tells you that you’re pathetic, that you’re nothing but a spoiled brat.

You only realize you’re crying when you see the droplets on the wooden table.

“Good evening, your majesty.” You recognize the speaker’s voice - it's Shinso. You don’t quite trust your voice, but it would be worse to leave him unanswered.

"Hello, Shinso." Your voice shatters, and you chew your lip. Damn.

He slides into the empty seat next to you, regarding you as gently as he can manage. His hands land on your back as he rubs it gently.

"Gods, I’m sorry," You sniffle, rubbing your nose, "It must be annoying to have to deal with me."

"Don’t think like that," he says. "It’s okay to cry. You’re going through a lot. Even if you weren’t, crying never hurt anyone, right?" Hearing that makes you smile softly as you wipe your tears away. They’re quickly replaced with new ones, but the words add a little bit of comfort.

Even if that comfort is only for tonight.

Tomorrow night, you wouldn’t see Shinso. You would be shipped away, dragged along with a man who saw you as no more than a piece in his little game.

But for now, for tonight, you relax into his embrace, and you let the tears fall.

The king and queen set about preparing for the gala, leaving you to yourself for most of the day. The door to your room was locked, and clambering out of the window seemed so tantalizing.

"You would’ve been caught within seconds if it were during the day."

You sigh. Shinso was right, no matter how much you wished otherwise.

So you wait. Like a bird of paradise trapped in a cage, or like a glass doll in a dollhouse, you sit in your room and wait for your mother.

Oh, how the castle feels so suffocating.

But eventually, the click of the lock is heard, and you can see the face of your mother. Her face is soured, making the smile she wears unfitting.

"Put this on. The ball begins in an hour. I expect you to be there on time."

"Where else could I go?" She hums at your words and sets the clothing on the bed before leaving you alone once again. Her heels click against the cobblestone stairs, slowly fading into a deafening silence.

You stare at the outfit she had laid out for you.

It looks like her wedding dress.

Eerily so.

The color scheme is a direct copy, and you suspect the stitches are identical as well. It’s unnerving and it feels ever so purposeful.

As you rub your hands across the delicate fabric (was it silk?), you wonder how far you could make it if you ran into the woods. How long would it take for your father's men to find you if you escaped to another northern kingdom?

But the clinking of iron armor sounds just outside your door. You're forced to resign those fantasies.

The guards lead you down the winding, empty stairs and stop in front of the double doors of the main hall. Behind them, the ball has already begun.

Maids in intricate gowns and men in tight, buttoned-up suits mingle, able to forget class and ranks, if only for tonight.

Was the royal advisor flirting with the owner of that restaurant?

You’re shaken out of your thoughts as your father calls for the attention of the crowd. Prince Monoma falls into place by your side. You fold your arms behind your back and refuse to meet his prodding gaze.

“As you all know, tonight we celebrate the engagement of my child to Prince Neito Monoma of the south. Their marriage will preserve the alliance between our kingdoms for many prosperous, joyous, years to come.” Your father was excellent at speaking out of his ass. “Tonight, we toast to Prince Monoma, and we celebrate.” The crowd erupts in cheers and drinks are raised in your name as well as his.

The sight makes you want to vomit.

Your father gives you a careful look before taking his leave, the queen on his arm.

You separate from Monoma immediately, weaving through the crowds of chattering and dancing guests. You thank those who congratulate you half-heartedly. You just need space. Just a moment to yourself, a moment to breathe and let it all sink in.

You hear your name. It’s a deep, familiar voice.

What’s more, there are no formalities attached.

“Shinso?” You ask. “Why are you-”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” There’s a glint in his eyes that tells you to play along, and you bite your tongue. “I hope this isn’t too rude of me, but would you care to dance?” His smile is playful and his eyes are crinkled with delight.

His smile is contagious.

You nod in agreement, and he takes your hand, leading you towards the center of the room. The stares are accompanied by mutters, but you find that you don’t mind at all.

The music crescendos and Shinso leads your dance. His grip on your waist is rough and he pulls you flush against him.

“Tomorrow’s the wedding, yeah?” His voice has dropped to a whisper, and his breaths are hot against your ear. You shudder and nod weakly. It’s hard to think straight - all of your senses are filled with him.*

He curses under his breath. “We’ll have to make our move tonight, then.” You blink and meet his gaze after he twirls you around.

“You’re actually going to do it?”

“Of course I am. I promised, didn’t I? Besides, Monoma’s kind of an ass.”

You laugh. “So, what’s your plan?”

“You’ll see.” He digs through his pocket and produces a single sheet of paper. It’s almost barren, only one letter on the entire page.

You inhale sharply and he studies the expression you wear.

“Didn’t expect it to be me, huh?”

“I- why are you-”

He smirks. “I sell everything I steal and give the money to people who need it - the homeless, the orphanages, you name it.”

Your heart pounds in your chest. You aren’t scared, however - not in the slightest.

His hand rests on your cheek and he wears an almost amused expression. “Your face is burning.” He chuckles.

“I’m… just surprised.” You say. Both of you know you’re lying. “It doesn’t feel real.”

“I don’t blame you. I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

“Why would I hate you?” You make eye contact with him again, and his gaze softens after a few moments. He sighs, his thumb idly stroking your cheek. Your face burns under his touch, even more so under his gaze.

“A few people do. But... I’m glad to hear that you don’t.” His stare meets yours once again, a newfound fire in his.

"You ready to run away, your majesty?"

#hitoshi shinso imagine #shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinso x reader #bnha x reader #mha x you #shinsou fluff #shinso x you #shinso x y/n #shinso x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #mha x reader #mha x y/n #aaaaa this was so much fun to write!! shinso is such a fun character

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burntmcnuggies · 4 years

Text

Hawks and S/O Play Among Us

Hawks x Reader

Just a small headcanon I made since me, my mom, my brother, my step-sister, and some of my friends play all the time! If you wanna play together or just chat with me lemme know and I’ll make a private group for you all to join and chat with me! ;)

Warnings: strong language, excess use of profanity, so if you don’t like very strong language please leave! A slight little bit of suggestive sexiness from Hawks, but it’s very very brief! That’s it!

Enjoy!

* Cheats all the time. So make sure you both are in separate rooms. If you’re beside him playing on your phones, he will for sure peek over and see if you’re an imposter or not.

* If you’re both Crewmate he’ll stay glued to your side. He’ll do all tasks with you, make sure he follows you if something got sabotaged, even though this may cause you to lose. “Hawks go to the other one! We only have 15 seconds!” “But what if you die? I’ll be all alone, and everyone will sus me because I stayed with you all the time!” “That’s why you don’t follow me and act sus!” Needless to say it’s difficult getting him to leave your side. If you do die, he’ll start blaming your killer even though he has no proof at all. Then he gets voted out and you do tasks together as ghosts. He’s one of those people to randomly start accusing people, and will use you as an alibi. “I was with my girlfriend and brown was following us. He’s pretty sus.” Then you get spams in the chat saying “wtf.”

* if you’re both imposters, he’ll make sure to sit by you and run around freely by himself knowing you’re safe. Even in a fictional game he makes sure you’re safe... most of the time. “FUCK! FUCK!! BROWN SAW ME!!! WHAT DO I DO?!?!” “LIE!” “THEY ALL WANNA VOTE ME OUT WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” Voting occurs, and you vote him out. “YOU BETRAYED ME?!?!” “WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!?! IT WOULD BE SUS IF I DIDNT!!!” He’ll start pouring and follow you around in his little ghost form, assisting in sabotage and warning you if there’s anyone around so you can kill people. If you were away from each other, he would venture on his own and sometimes follow you to see if you can double kill. “Yes! Good job, dovie, you make a great sidekick!” If you are being accused, he’ll defend you immediately, which makes it all the more suspicious. Then you both end up getting voted out.

* You’re the imposter and he’s the crewmate. You kill Hawks first. Always. You have to or else he’ll rat you out immediately. He’s very competitive if you are on opposite teams. If you do get voted out he’ll rub it in your face and laugh. “You’re so predictable, dovie. It’s not even funny!” Well, apparently he thinks it’s funny. He also thinks it’s funny seeing the pouty expression on your face. If your teammate kills him, you start laughing at him. “Hah! Yellow got revenge! Thank you yellow! Carry us to victory!” He scowls. “At least I made it farther.” If you successfully kill him, he’ll stalk you through his little ghost and scrutinize your methods. “You killed him in the open, If it were real you’d be locked away by now.” “It’s a game babe. Let me play how I wanna play. You’re acting childish cause I killed you.” “I hope they vote you out. Liar. Murderer. Imposter!” When you end up winning he’ll pout. “I’ll get you next time, baby bird.”

* He’s the imposter and you’re the crewmate. He’s very good at it. He likes to wait and kill you last since he loves to taunt you. Then he’ll lie to the entire chat and act all innocent. However, if you’re playing with friends, this plan always backfires. You don’t even suspect him because he’s so good at playing the role of an imposter, it’s almost scary. If he’s the imposter, he always wins. If he’s acting sus, you call an emergency meeting and immediately convince everyone to vote him out. It’s a desperate last effort tactic to try and win against him. Of course, he smooth talks his way out of things and you’re the one that gets booted. There will be a small little thing at the end where you are playing with friends :)

* Characters, of course yours is whatever you want, but Hawks... he loves to do stupid ass nicknames that you and all your friends and his make fun of. It’s consisted of “Sexy Bird” “No. 2 Bitches” “(Y/N)’s dick giver” “chickenman” “nugget king” “Endeavor my daddy” “Endeavorsimp” “Hawks” The last one is to try and make his fans day if he has any that play when you both just play online together. His character is almost always yellow with little goggles on top, a white suit, and a mini crewmate as his pet. Many don’t believe that it’s actually Hawks, not until he posts pictures on his social media of you and him playing together.

* Playing with Friends: You, Hawks, Endeavor, Mirko, Dabi, Tokoyami, Shoto, Twice, Shigaraki, and Aizawa (you convinced him to play) All of you are on call. Hawks invited Endeavor, Mirko, and Tokoyami. You invited everyone else. (Lets all pretend that you all are normal and there’s no heroes or villains, just all adults with jobs playing kid games. (U/N) is username by the way since you all get to choose ^^

Below is a short story I wrote for this!

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

Small Key!

-(U/N) = You (Orange, Pink, Light Green)

-Sexy Bird = Hawks (Yellow)

-Dabeebee = Dabi (Purple)

-Zzzawa = Aizawa (Dark Green)

-QueenRab = Mirko (White)

-MyDadSucks = Shoto (Cyan)

-DarkBoy = Tokoyami (Black)

-Crustball = Shigaraki (Dark Blue)

-2wice = Twice (Brown)

-Endeavor = Endeavor (Red)

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

“Hey everyone!” -(U/N)

“Stop being so happy (Y/N).” -Zzzawa

“Hey Doll.” -Dabeebee

“Dabi~! Your user name is your name in my phone!!! How sweet!” -(U/N)

“Hey, I’m right here. Don’t make me come up there and teach you who you belong to again pretty birdie.” -Sexy Bird

“TMI!! I don’t wanna hear about you’re pathetic sex like Keigo. Baby dick.” -QueenRab

“Language Mirko. Please. Who else is joining (Y/N)-“ -Endeavor

“YOU BITCH WE HAVE BOMB ASS SEX!!! TELL HER (Y/N)!!!!” -Sexy Bird

“Can we just start?” -Crustball

“Please.” -Zzzawa

“I agree.” -MyDadSucks

“Shoto change your name.” -Endeavor

“Fuck off old man.” -MyDadSucks

“I am ready to begin this journey of darkness and deceit.” -DarkBoy

“Me too! Oh hell no, I’m not doin’ this.” -2wice

“Guys! Shut up! I’m about to start the game so we all have to go on mute okay?” -(U/N)

“(Y/NNNNN)! You didn’t tell Mirko about our fucking amazing se-“ -Sexy Bird

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

You pressed start before your lover could even finish whatever he was saying and rolled your eyes shouting from the guest bedroom. “KEIGO YOU BASTARD IM REALLY GONNA KILL YOU IF YOU SAY ANYTHING ELSE ABOUT OUT SEX LIFE!!!!” He shouted back almost immediately. “SHE CALLED OUR SEX PATHETIC!!!!” You called back. “ITS NOT BABE ITS FUCKING AMAZING NOW SHUT UP AND PLAY!!!!” The little ‘Shhhh’ appeared and it turned out you and Dabi were the imposters. You grinned widely and went towards the right of “The Skeld” map. You ran up towards weapons to pretend to do the task. You took the time to attempt to sabotage the lights like you always did, but it sadly was still loading. Then a purple little astronaut came beside you with little wolf ears. And the name labeled above was red with the word “Dabeebee.”

‘Alright Dabi... lets kick some ass.’ You thought to yourself with a grin as you finally got your kill cool down relinquished. The first thing you sabotaged was lights, and then you began your search for your lover. You went down and turned left, checking to see if anyone was in communications. No one. You then went through lower storage and up Into electrical. You were met with a dark blue color. Poor Shigaraki, your first victim. Keigo could probably wait. Dabi would back you up. You clicked the kill button on your phone and immediately jumped into a vent. You popped out of MedBay and pretended to do the sample task. Then your screen flashed.

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

*DISCUSS/ Dabeebee reported a body*

*Crustball has died*

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

“Well, there goes the crusty bastard. He sucked anyways.” -Dabeebee

“Where was the body?” -(U/N)

“It’s (Y/N). I know it is.” -Sexy Bird

“What the hell kinda evidence for you have that it was (Y/N)? I’ll kick your ass if you do it again. You weren’t near her you were with Endeavor and I.” -QueenRab

“Those are some pretty bold accusations against me my love.” -(U/N)

“(Y/N) was with me the whole time. The body was in electrical. We were together going down there and she kept going while I went to go do a task.” -Dabeebee

“It was Dabi! No it wasn’t, he’s a good guy! No! He’s evil!” -2wice

“It was Endeavor.” -MyDadSucks

“It’s (Y/N) and Dabi. You guys have to believe me! I know my birdie and she is an imposter right now. Don’t trust her.” -Sexy Bird

“Shut the fuck up.” -QueenRab

“Kei baby you soundin’ kinda sus, quickly blaming me and Dabi.” -(U/N)

“It’s Dabi and I. And no, I didn’t-“ -Endeavor

“WHATEVER ENDEAVOR WE AREN’T IN SCHOOL!!!” -(U/N)

“I’m a school teacher, (Y/N). Don’t forget I tutored you our freshmen year.” -Zzzawa

“That makes me sound old Shōta.” -(U/N)

“Discussion time just ended. What’re we doing?” -MyDadSucks

“I’m still voting (Y/N).” -Sexy Bird

“Oh yes, I love you too Kei’. So much.” -(U/N)

“It was dark. I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know where I was.” -DarkBoy

“I’m votin’ Keigo cause he’s bein’ a petty little dickless bitch.” QueenRab

“RUDE.” -Sexy Bird

“I’m skipping.” -Dabeebee

“Me too.” -(U/N), DarkBoy, 2wice, Endeavor, and Zzzawa

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

7 skips: (Y/N), Dabeebee, DarkBoy, 2wice, Endeavor, and Zzzawa

1 vote for Endeavor: MyDadSucks

1 vote for Sexy Bird: QueenRab

1 vote for (U/N): Sexy Bird

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

*NO ONE WAS EJECTED*

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

‘That’s good no one believe Keigo. If they did me and Dabi would be- Dabi and I would be dead.’ Next turn you went left, heading down to MedBay to “finish” the samples. While you waited you checked to see if you could sabotage. A couple seconds later the oxygen depletion was activated. ‘Nice Dabi!’ You cracked a smile and left MedBay, running into a red character, Endeavor. Poor Endeavor. You successfully reached lower engine before killing the old player. You quickly passed Mirko and your face paled once you realized she would find the body and report it, seeing you leaving. You only continued in, receiving nothing from the others about a dead body. You weren’t gonna ask questions. Suddenly...

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

*DISCUSS/ MyDadSucks reported a body*

*Endeavor and QueenRab have died*

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

“Well, it wasn’t my old man.” -MyDadSucks

“ITS (Y/N) AND DABI!!!! VOTE (Y/N) OUT OR WERE GOING TO LOSE!!!!” -Sexy Bird

“I already voted.” -Zzzawa

“That fast? Who’d you vote for?” -(U/N)

“Hawks.” -Zzzawa

“WHAT?!?!” -Sexy Bird

“I agree! No wait! He’s telling the truth! No way! He’s totally an imposter!” -2wice

“You are being very loud and suspicious. You’re also only blaming (Y/N) and Dabi for no reason. You didn’t even ask where the body was. You passed me coming up from reactor. And the body was in lower engine. You were the only one I sa-“ -MyDadSucks

“I WAS WATCHIN’ SECURITY CAMS!!!! CMON MAN!!” -Sexy Bird

“I’m voting Kei’ too.” -(U/N)

“Me too.” -Dabeebee

“I will not eject my mentor. He’s taught me a lot. He’s intelligent. I believe him.” -DarkBoy

“THANK YOU TOKOYAMI!!! SOMEONE HERE APPRECIATES MY SMARTS!!” -Sexy Bird

“What smarts? You’re a total birdbrain.” -(U/N)

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

5 votes for Sexy Bird: MyDadSucks, Zzzawa, Dabeebee, 2wice, and (U/N).

2 votes for (U/N): DarkBoy and Sexy Bird

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

*Sexy Bird WAS EJECTED*

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

(Dead Chat)

“YOU WERE RIGHT KEIGO ITS (Y/N) and DABI!!!! HE KILLED ME WHEN I FOUND ENDEAVORS BODY AFTER SHE KILLED HIM IN LOWER ENGINE!!!” -QueenRab

“I was the first one to die. It’s been boring. I haven’t been doing anything.” -Crustball

“YOU ARENT DOING TASKS?!?!?!” -QueenRab

“They’re already going to win.” -Endeavor

“SHUT UP!!!” -QueenRab

“I KNEW IT!!!!” -Sexy Bird

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

You covered your mouth in shock that you actually got everyone to vote out Hawks. Aizawa was annoyed, Shoto was getting suspicious of how loud and pushy he was being to vote you out without any evidence, Dabi was your teammate so of course he’d vote with you, and then Twice just went with everyone else. You ran down first, running to admin with Tokoyami following right behind you. All the sudden your lover burst into the guest bedroom and stomped over towards your bed, spreading his wings and plopping beside you. “I knew it was you and Dabi. But nobody fuckin’ believed me.” You rolled your eyes and pretended to do the key scan while you sabotaged reactor. “Keigo, you were acting wayyyyy too sus. This is why you always lose when we play with friends. You’re too loud. You gotta be calm and persuasive. How on earth did you become an undercover agent for the FBI.”

“Shut the fuck up. I just wanna win that’s all. I also wanna be right, and I was, and now everyone’s comin’ and tellin’ me I’m right.” He smirked smugly and wrapped one of his wings around you, pulling you close to his chest while he watched you play. You went with Tokoyami and when you finally got him alone in navigation you killed him. Your thumb jerked upwards to go to the vent, but as soon as you did a Dark Green astronaut cane into view. Seeing you vent and leave the dead body. “Fuck!” You cursed and banged your head lightly in your head as the screen lit up. Your lover laughed. “Hey~ there’s still a chance we could win.” You sent him a glare. “Dabi will let us win. He’s a pro! C’mon Dabi! Help me out bro!”

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

*DISCUSS/ Zzzawa reported a body*

*DarkBoy has died*

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

“(Y/N) vented.” -Zzzawa

“What? Aizawa I literally just fucking saw you leave the body—SHES LYING!!!!” -(U/N)

“Is that Hawks?” -MyDadSucks

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE LITERALLY THE WORST GET THE FUCK OUT OR YOU’RE SLEEPING ON THE COUCH!!!! —THIS IS MY HOUSE!!!! AND I NEED THE BED FOR MY WINGS BABY BIRD!!!!” -(U/N)

“Can you guys fuck some other time? Are you sure you saw (Y/N) vent Mr. Caterpillar man. Do you have your contracts in?” -Dabeebee

“I don’t need input from a unemployed burnt looking drug dealer. It was (Y/N).” -Zzzawa

“A bit harsh coming from a raggedy looking old man.” -Dabeebee

“Can I just point out Twice has been awfully quiet? He bein’ pretty sus right now.” -(U/N)

“I’m the imposter! No I’m not! I’m a crewmate believe me!” -2wice

“He’s too stupid to be an imposter. I’ve been with him he was in MedBay.” -Dabeebee

“Yeah I was! But Hawks is already dead and ratted (Y/N) out! So it’s gotta he her!” -2wice

“Voting ends soon. I’m voting (Y/N). My apologies.” -MyDadSucks

“Agreed.” -Zzzawa

“Awe Shoto it’s okay, I love you so much. This is why you aren’t dead yet because you’re a pure angel! -I’m sittin’ right here pretty bird- no you aren’t an angel, you’re a devilish asshole.” -(U/N)

“I love you too, (Y/N).” -MyDadSucks

“Sorry doll, votes are stacked against you. Good game though.” -Dabeebee

“Yeah, fuck you Dabi.” -(U/N)

“Anytime baby, I’m open.” -Dabeebee

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

4 votes for (U/N): MyDadSucks, Zzzawa, Dabeebee, and 2wice

1 vote for Zzzawa: (U/N)

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

*(U/N) WAS EJECTED*

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

(Dead chat)

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the imposter who killed me.” -Crustball

“(Y/N) I TRUSTED YOU!!!!” -QueenRab

“Guys it’s just a game, don’t take it so-“ -(U/N)

“I STILL WANNA BEAT ALL YOU LAME ASS BITCHES!!!! ILL KICK ALL YOU’RE ASSES!!! JUST YOU FUCKING WAIT!!” -QueenRab

“Mirko please calm down. You’re being loud and obnoxious.” -Endeavor

“(Y/N) is right, even though she killed me. I applaud her devotion to the role. She outsmarted us well.” -DarkBoy

“TOKOYAMI!!! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY SIDE!!!! -HAWKS GO GET YOUR OWN PHONE STOP YELLING AND GRABBING MINE!!!” -(U/N)

“HAWKS YOURE NOT DOING YOUR TASKS?!?!” -QueenRab

“HELL NO THATS BORING. I LIKE WATCHING (Y/N) LOSE! -HEY! I KILLED YOU!” -(U/N)

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

You muted yourself and stopped listening to the chat of everyone arguing, mainly Mirko to everyone about doing tasks. You wondered around and looked for Dabi, following him around and assisting in Sabotage. Warm hands roamed over your waist, and a soft kiss was placed on your temple, soft red feathers brushing over your shoulders and lightly dusting over your leg. “Someone’s getting cuddly.” You announced quizzically, watching Dabi lure Twice into comms before killing him and running out. Your lovers scruffy chin rested against your shoulder, his head leaning against yours as he watched your screen. “Even though I’m still annoyed that you killed me, I’m proud of you baby bird. It’s difficult for people to out talk me. Especially you.”

“Was that an insult or a compliment?” You asked not really sure how to feel about his comment. He laughed lowly, the rumbled of his chest vibrating your back. “Hmm... let’s say both. Win win, yeah?” He began to kiss up your neck, the soft smacking of his wet lips against your skin echoing in your ears and making you shiver. “Keigo... what are you doing?” He hummed in dismissal of your words, rubbing your sides gently before slipping down to your hip. “What? I can’t love on you? I show my pretty bird some affection~?” Your lips set into a firm line and you gave him a look. “...you’re still sleeping on the couch.” He pouted. “So... no sex?”

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

*DISCUSS/Zzzawa reported a body*

*2wice has died*

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

“It was in communications.” -Zzzawa

“Dabi was with me the whole time. I met up with him after he finished a task in weapons. We fixed oxygen and met back up in the cafeteria and moved to reactor.” -MyDadSucks

“You’re the only one down there, and imposters can self report. You put yourself in a bit of a bind there. Mr. Caterpillar man. Guess the teacher ain’t that smart.” -Dabeebee

“I agree. My apologies Mr. Aizawa. No offense or hard feelings.” -MyDadSucks

“None taken Shoto. The evidence is stacked against me. Good game Dabi.” -Zzzawa

“Nice knowin’ ya both.” -Dabeebee

“Wait what-“ -MyDadSucks

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

*Zzzawa WAS EJECTED*

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

Victory flashed in your screen and you fist pumped the air cheering in victory. Hawks frowned beside you, pulling his hands away and tucking his wings between you, cocooning himself away from you to sulk that he had lost in a game he was supposed to be really good at. “Baby come here.” You called out to him, gently stroking his wings. He grunted and moved a wing down to glare. “...we can have sex later?” He moved his wings to wrap around you again and his arms were around you tightly, hot breath fanning slightly over your ear. “Thank you love bird~ and congrats on winnin’ the game. But...” You swallowed thickly. “B-But what...?”

“I’ll be winnin’ in the bedroom.”

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

“Did you forget we weren’t on mute anymore? Horny idiots.” -Zzzawa

“Hawks!” -Endeavor

“(Y/N) IM COMING TO BEAT HIS ASS!!! DONT LET HIM TOUCH YOU!!!” QueenRab

“I think I should get reward for winning, doll. Wanna come to my place? Forget about that birdbrained idiot. Cum for me~” -Dabeebee

“DABI THE FUCK?! Stop being sexual. It’s disgusting.” -Crustball

“I don’t understand why you’re all like this. Was there a class I missed about being weird?” -MyDadSucks

“No. They’re just weird.” -DarkBoy

“Wait we lost.” -2wice

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

END.

#my hero academia #my hero headcanons #bnha dabi #hawks #hawks headcanons #among us #my hero academia tokoyami #shoto todoroki #shoto aizawa #mr aizawa #shigaraki tomura #pro hero mirko #endeavor #twice mha #my hero academia x reader #crack headcanon

273 notes · View notes

abraxos-is-toothless · 4 years

Note

I love how you write Andrew getting to heal! If you take requests, could you please do something like post-canon where Neil makes Andrew smile or chuckle for the first time? No pressure though :) have a good day!

Andrew deserves to heal and I just love to write him happy with Neil. I really hope this lives up to what you asked for, I’m very emotional🥺

—————

Neil has made Andrew laugh many times. Not like anyone else would laugh, no, just huffs of air through his nose, eyes crinkling slightly in the corners. Sometimes even his lips quirked up a little. He doesn’t need to do anything else, doesn’t need to laugh ‘normally’, because all of those tiny little things let Neil know that his partner was happy. That he felt good enough to show it to Neil outwardly. Andrew was a man who liked to keep to himself, like to show things in his own secretive way because that’s how he knew to do it best.

So, the first time it happened, Neil thought his heart had stopped beating in his chest.

They were spending a lazy weekend in their apartment, just the two of them and Sir and King. King was lounging on the back of the sofa behind Andrew’s head, and Sir was curled up in Andrew’s lap. Neil thought it was unfair for the cats to love the blonde so much, since Neil was the one who had found them abandoned in an alley. Neil was the one who brought them home and persuaded Andrew into keeping them and giving them a home, yet the cute little bastards didn’t like him. He thinks it’s just because Andrew gives them extra treats.

Kevin had called Neil almost an hour ago to complain about anything he could think of. The season had just ended and the prick decided Neil was not allowed to slack off, not even for a day.

Are you sticking to your meal plan?

Have you practiced yet today? And if so how long for?

Don’t let Andrew buy too much ice cream, it’s not good for him.

Neil has been nodding and mumbling short answers for what has felt like years and quite frankly, he’d had enough. “Kevin, I’ve told you all of this three time this week. I’m hanging up now.”

“No Neil! We still have things to discuss, this is the pros, you can’t just act all breezy about it.”

Neil smirked, knowing how to get Kevin distracted enough to hang up without the fear of him calling back. “We have nothing to discuss, so unless you’d like to listen to Andrew blow me, I’m hanging up.” He presses and call just as the sputtering started on the other end of the phone. When he turned to Andrew again, the blonde had a single brow raised, hand stroking along Sir’s back as she purred. The sight was so adorable Neil thought he might melt into a puddle.

“Care to tell me what the Queen himself wanted this time? And no, I’m not blowing you, you haven’t earned it yet.”

Neil ignored the shivers down his spine and began to tell Andrew all of the stupid shit Kevin had decided to bring up today, but not as he normally would. On any other day he’d just drawl about the idiot in his usual voice, completely bored and annoyed by the Son of Exy. Andrew had made Neil watch all of the Harry Potter movies recently, and they were quite enjoyable. He liked the idea of there being a completely different and wonderful world hidden amongst your own.

From all of his years on the run, Neil had perfected the art of becoming someone else, changing names, languages and even accents. Because of this, Neil found it quite easy to mimick the voice of Snape from the movies. When he told Andrew what Kevin had shouted about the ice cream, he did so in that drawling voice. “Do not let Andrew buy too much ice cream, he needs to have a proper diet.”

He had not expected the laugh he received in return. Andrew let out a low deep chuckle, almost a full belly laugh as he tipped his head back, and Neil couldn’t help the way his eyes widened, jaw dropping just slightly. When Andrew looked back at him again, he stopped almost instantly at whatever emotion he saw in Neil’s eyes, beginning to push his walls back up. “What, Abram?”

“Do that again.” Neil breathed, almost a whisper in the peaceful air between them. The blonde’s brow crinkled, lips parted at the soft demand. Neil knee he was going to try and change the subject, shift the attention away from himself so, he didn’t give Andrew the chance. “You’re beautiful when you laugh Drew, so beautiful.” Andrew’s cheeks and ears started to go pink, making his freckles stand out more and Neil wanted to trace them with fingers and lips. The cats were shifted and moved from the couch, all grumpy disgruntled and then Andrew was crawling over to Neil and settling in his lap, knees on either side of his hips as he carefully settled himself on Neil’s thighs.

There were fingers in his hair, pushing a few curls back from his forehead before scratching at his scalp, making Neil hum in contentment. “You say such silly things, junkie.” Andrew spoke softly, leaning in to press a kiss behind Neil’s ear and dragging his lips down his neck. “Can you say more of those silly things?” Hands moved down his chest, under his shirt to trace and rub his scars. And so, with every little thing Andrew did to him with gentle hands, soft touches and kisses that left him breathless, he told Andrew how beautiful he was, how much Neil loved him. He was and always would be:

Amazing, amazing, amazing.

Neil would never have it any other way, would never want anything else. Because this, this was perfect just as it was.

He was safe, in a place with man he loved and two pesky little furballs. He’d survived, he’d lived and he’d be damned if he wasted any of it.

—————

Only a short little thing I know, but this is just how my brain wanted this to go:))

Tags: @incorrect-the-foxhole-court @junkiejosten10 @oreosndscones @koholania @skunked-up-kicks @shutuptheooo oo @hannahoftheinternet @palmettofoxesthings @jostenlovesminyard @fangirl0503 @stop-breathing-its-annoying @ah-jeez @intoomanyfandomsstuff @imstupidrememberr @lila-baard @heccccccccc @prettyboysareindemand @acetheticbitchass @meatiors @princeofexy @emilyfairchild @kmskms123kms @yourtypicalbookworn @sadboyayeron @b00kworm @bazsnow @aftghasruinedme @nightphans @of-stars-and-moon @thegreenerartist @notarealb0y

#aftg #aftg fanfic #all for the game #all for the gay #andrew minyard #neil josten #andrew minyard deserves to heal #andreil #they are soft #soft boys #i am in love #they say i love you in my world #sir and king #my writing #my fic #haz writes #prompts #andrew is baby

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cruciology · 4 years

Text

Thunder and Lightning

Sandor Clegane x Reader

Summary: You and the Hound take shelter during a storm

The cold water felt amazing on your skin after days of traveling under the hot sun. It had been too long since you had had a proper bath, but you didn’t mind bathing rivers if it meant being far away from King Joffrey and his horrid mother. You wished that your sister had come with you and of course you felt terrible for leaving her there by herself, but when the Hound offered to take you both away with him when he ran, to take you to Castle Black to Jon, you couldn’t say no. You wished you could have forced her, but as soft and meek as people thought your sister was, you knew she could be just as stubborn as Arya. And you couldn’t very well stay in King’s Landing. Sansa’s high born status and betrothal to Joffrey protected her from certain death, but you were just a bastard. They would kill you the moment you stepped even a toe out of line. Even if the Hound had frightened you, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. You had been traveling with him for months now and he still hadn’t laid a hand on you. In fact, besides when you were sitting on his horse in front of him, riding across his lap, he tried not to touch you at all.

You dived into the cold water to rinse your hair. You came up, taking a deep breath. Even the air on the road tasted better than the air in King’s Landing.

You heard your name from the trees surrounding the river you were swimming in. You should have known the Hound would come looking for you as soon as he awoke from his nap. He didn’t like you leaving his sight. He claimed he didn’t want to have to deal with your family coming after him if you got hurt under his watch.

“Here,” You called out, sinking up to your shoulders in the water. You could hear the Hound breaking branches as he walked through the forest.

He finally broke through the edge of the forest, looking annoyed. Then he spotted you naked under the water and quickly turned his back to you. “Fucking Hell, Snow,” He said. “Are you fucking stupid?”

“No, just sweaty and dirty,” You said. “Or I was until just a bit ago.”

“You’re going to just strip down in the middle of the woods where anyone can see you?” The Hound asked. “Get your clothes on before I end up having to kill somebody.”

“You would’ve heard me if something happened,” You argued, but you pulled yourself out of the water regardless. You pulled your slip back over your head and it clung to your cool, wet skin.

“You covered?” He asked. You rolled your eyes before confirming that you were while you were busy turning your dress right side out. He turned back, only to swear and slap his hand over his face again, making you laugh. “What did I say? Put your dress on, Seven Hells, girl.”

“You’re such a child, you can’t see anything,” You said.

“Can’t see anything, my ass.”

You finally got your dress on, tightening the ties at the front. “There, big baby man, my dress is on, you can unshield your eyes, your modesty is safe.”

The Hound finally took his hand away, looking down at you. “Not enough that you have your tits popping out half the time? You’re gonna get me killed by some horny pervert in my sleep.” You had this argument before. The Hound was always grunting that you were too noticeable. You learned this was Hound Speak for he thought you were too pretty for your own good. You tried not to look too closely at why him thinking you were pretty made your stomach flip.

“Did you have a point or did you just come out here to yell at me for having a bath?” You asked, hands on your hips. There was a time where you could barely look at the Hound’s face, but now you stared up at him with ease. You would dare to even call him your friend, though maybe not to his face. That was bold, even for you.

“It’s going to rain tonight,” He said, pointing up at the sky. The clouds hung heavy and grey just ahead. “Gotta find someplace to sleep if we don’t want to be half drowned by morning. There’s an inn up the road.”

“Oh, an inn, aren’t we fancy?” You followed him back into the forest, back to your small camp in the clearing.

“More trouble than you’re worth,” The Hound said, shaking his shaggy head. When you first left with him, you were careful not to annoy him, watching your every move to make sure you didn’t rub him the wrong way in case he really did just tire of you and cast you off to face the dangers on your own. It didn’t take long to realize that he wanted you around for company as much as you needed him for protection. You had lost track of the times he had threatened to leave you behind only to swoop in and save you anyways.

It only took a moment for you to clean up the small camp. You had only set up a few hours before, but the Hound was right. You couldn’t really sleep outside if there would be a downpour. The two of you normally found a barn to hole up in at night, but there hadn’t been much along this road. You were surprised that there was even an inn nearby.

The Hound grabbed you by the waist, lifting you onto the horse with ease before climbing on behind you. He pulled you close to him, making sure you were settled against him and your arm wrapped around him to steady yourself before he rode. Sometimes you found yourself falling asleep when the ride was smooth enough, your head laying on his armor clad chest. If he minded, he never said anything.

It was a short ride to the inn. The rain was just starting to come down as the Hound tied the horse up. You hurried into the shelter of the warm inn before the heavy rain could soak you through, the Hound shortly behind you.

The whole place was crowded with drunk, burly men. It was early in the evening, but it seemed they all had the same idea as the Hound. You spotted a few women you were sure were being paid by the hour but you weren’t sure where they had found themselves this far out in the middle of nowhere.

“Stay right here, I’ll get us rooms,” The Hound ordered. You nodded, sitting down at a table closest to the door as you watched your traveling companion part the crowd easily. Even drunk men knew not to get in the Hound’s way. If it wasn’t his brutal scar that scared them, it was the sheer size of him. You often found yourself wondering how big his mother had to have been to bore both him and the Mountain.

A low whistle caught your attention and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you spotted the source. A couple of men twice your age were making eyes at you from a table a few feet away. You looked back in the direction that the Hound had gone, hoping he would be quick about it. You busied yourself with your skirt, looking for loose threads you knew weren’t there. You cursed under your breath as you saw two pairs of feet out of the corner of your eye.

“What’s your name, love?” One man said. He was doughy and red faced. He looked like he had once been a good fighter but had let himself go, big arms and a round middle. You pretended you couldn’t hear him, your fists balled on your lap. You wished you could just tell him to fuck off. You knew Arya would. Your younger sister could be so much braver than you.

“He asked you a question,” The other said, grabbing your shoulder and turning you towards them. He was scrawny and his skin leathery, probably from too much time in the sun.

“I heard him,” You said, feeling a bit more defiant now that he had invaded your personal space.

“And you didn’t answer?” The scrawny one asked. “Very rude.”

“Makes me not want to tip you,” The doughy one said.

“I’m not a whore,” You said, your cheeks turning pink.

“Any woman’s a whore for the right price,” The doughy one said, his lips pulling back in a greasy smile.

“I’m traveling with my husband,” You lied. You stared back at the man, hoping you sounded more confident than you felt.

“I don’t see a husband,” The scrawny one said.

“Look harder.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, turning to see the Hound looming behind you, his eyes trained on the two men. He had one hand on the hilt of his large sword and the other on your shoulder. The two men looked up at the Hound, their eyes wide, their mouths agape.

“We’ll be going,” The doughy one said, backing away so quickly he stumbled and nearly fell onto the floor.

“What did I tell you?” The Hound asked as he sat down across from you. “You’re my wife now?”

“Men respect other men’s claim to a woman more than a woman’s claim to herself, unfortunately,” You said with a small shrug. It was something Lady Catelyn had taught you from a young age. There were many times when you had to pretend you were betrothed to Jon or Robb just to avoid a sticky situation with some lecherous lord.

“Aye, you’re right about that,” The Hound said.

“Did you get us rooms?” You asked.

“Just one,” He held up a single key. “Busy night.”

The rain started coming down harder, pounding on the roof of the inn as you and the Hound ate your dinner of kidney pie. The Hound seemed in a better mood than normal, most likely due to the steady intake of ale. He wasn’t drunk, as it would take a lot more than a few pints to intoxicate a man of his size, but he was certainly jollier. You could swear you even saw a smile on his face when you got up from the table.

He led you up the stairs and down the hall. The room you were to share was all the way at the end. As the storm raged outside, you were grateful to even get a roof over your head for the night.

The Hound unlocked the door, letting you enter first. The storm had scared off any summer heat, making the small room slightly chilly, but the feather bed in the middle of the room had a big fur blanket. You were full and sleepy, ready to crawl right under it. You started untying the front of your dress and you expected the Hound to make another comment about modesty but instead he just sat down at the little table by the window, absently looking at the rain slapping against the stained glass.

You pulled your dress off, leaving you in your thin slip again. You climbed into the bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. After months of sleeping on the hard ground or the occasional bale of hay, the soft feather bed felt better than anything you had ever touched. You were nearly asleep when you realized the Hound was still sitting stiff upright in his wooden chair, his arms crossed and nodding off. When you slept outside, he didn’t remove his armor in case you needed to make a quick getaway but you thought that behind a locked door, safe for the night, he would at least make himself comfortable.

“Hound,” You said, making his head jerk up, looking annoyed. “Are you just going to sit there all night?”

“Slept in worse places, believe me,” He said.

“There’s a perfectly good half of the bed right here,” You said, patting the spot next to you. The Hound’s jaw tensed. “I promise not to hog the blankets.”

“Not right,” He said it so quietly you were sure you misheard him. You laughed slightly.

“You aren’t known for your chivalry, Hound,” You said. “Surely you’ve shared a bed with a woman before.” You could almost swear you saw him blush.

“Fuck off.”

“Sleep on the end like a dog if you must, live up to your name,” You said, sitting up fully. You saw his eyes flick down to your slip again. “But if you don’t get in this damned bed I’ll just stay up and annoy you all night and neither of us will sleep.”

“Just shut up.” He finally got up, unbuckling his armor. He was about the only person you had seen who could do it himself. Years of practice, you supposed. Most people didn’t want to get near enough to help him.

In just his underclothes, he blew out the candles on the table and climbed into the bed next to you in the total blackness of the room. You felt the bed shift under his weight, rolling you slightly towards him, but he was careful not to let your bodies touch. You could feel the heat radiating off him. You thought how nice he would be to curl against on some of those cold nights you had spent up north and found yourself blushing.

“Goodnight, Hound.”

“Go the fuck to sleep.”

You woke up in a cold sweat. You were almost grateful for the crack of thunder that had awoken you. The nightmare you had, of watching your father’s head chopped off and seeing it mounted on a stick to rot, was one you didn’t mind being interrupted. You shivered, trying to calm your breathing, but with every lightning strike, you shook harder.

“You alright?” You had almost forgotten where you were until you heard the grumble from the Hound next to you. Remembering he was there made you feel a little better, even if he sounded annoyed at being roused from his sleep. You could see the vaguest outline of him in the flashes of light. He had his arm over his face as he laid on his back.

You nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see you. “Sorry, I’m alright,” You confirmed.

“You’re not.”

“I don’t like thunderstorms,” You admitted.

There was a long moment of silence between you as you shivered despite the warmth beneath the blanket. “You gonna keep shaking like that?”

“Sorry,” You said again.

The Hound sighed heavily before taking his arm off of his face, wrapping it around you and pulling you flush against his side. His big, hairy arm felt secure around you. You rested your head on his chest, hearing the slow tick of his heart beneath you. You matched your breathing to his and you felt safe even as you heard the thunder outside. He fell asleep again quickly, but his arm remained tightly around you.

You almost fell back asleep yourself, but he turned in his sleep towards you, his other arm draping over you. He surrounded you, his large body sheltering you as you pressed both of your hands to his broad chest. He smelled like ale and leather and just slightly of sweat. You were used to it by now, after riding so close to him for so long. It was comforting. You let yourself press against him fully.

You could feel your cheeks turn red as you felt the rigid length on your thigh. You felt a sudden ache. It was the same one you got riding on his lap, when you found yourself thinking about what it might feel like to have his strong hands under your dress. You shifted yourself, throwing your leg over his, pressing your growing wetness against the growing bulge. You know you shouldn’t, but the slight friction made you bite your lip. You heard a soft groan come from the Hound’s throat, only serving to turn you on more. You wanted so badly for him to touch you.

You turned away from him, your bodies still pressed close and his arms still holding you close, your ass rubbing against his hardness. You cursed yourself for being so depraved as thoughts of the Hound taking you swam through your mind. All you wanted was to roll over and take every inch of him inside of you.

Without even thinking, you reached your hand down to the wetness between your thighs, feeling his arm under yours even as you slipped a finger into yourself. You could be quick and quiet about it and then just fall asleep. You bit your lip to keep silent as you rubbed your clit, trying to finish yourself without waking the Hound. You couldn’t help your ass grinding back against his groin. You were so close when he grunted, grabbing your hip, making you stop. You snatched your hand away.

“What are you doing?” He asked. His voice was so low and he was so close you could feel his words rather than hear them.

“Nothing,” You lied, your face burning bright red. You were glad the room was dark. He didn’t move his hand, he just let you lay in embarrassed silence. You could still feel that sharp ache, stronger now that you were so close.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

You let out an involuntary whimper, letting your hand drift back down to your center. You rubbed your ass against him as you slipped your fingers into your pussy. He groaned, squeezing your hip tighter.

“Sandor,” You whimpered as you rode your hand. His grip on you bordered on painful. You knew he wanted to touch you but wouldn’t let himself. Throwing all subtlety out the window, you grabbed his large hand from your hip and moved it between your thighs.

“Fuck,” He whispered as he felt how drenched you were for him. He slipped his middle finger into you. You dug your nails into his forearm, your head throwing back against him. You rode his hand, whimpering his name as you felt that band of tension snap when his thumb found your clit. You came apart in his arms, breathing hard.

He removed his hand from you, going back to its place around your waist. “Better?” He grunted from behind you. You nodded against him. “Good. Go to sleep.”

“Don’t you-,”

“I didn’t take you from the capital for that,” He bristled. You could tell you offended him.

“I know that,” You said. You knew how he felt about the knights that abused their power. You didn’t think you could be any clearer about how badly you wanted him. You reached behind you, grabbing his length through the fabric of his pants and making him shudder. He was painfully hard now. “Please.”

“Don’t be begging like that, girl,” He groaned. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I’m not a virgin, I know what a cock feels like,” You said. You felt him tense at the word. “Though, your’s is a lot bigger.” The fight you got into with your brothers when they found out what you had been doing with Theon had barely been worth it. You felt like the Hound’s would be and you were desperate to find out. You dipped your hand below his waistband, grabbing him fully and making him curse, thrusting his hips into your hand. “I’ve been thinking about you fucking me since we got to King’s Landing.” He said your name with a warning tone. “Please, Sandor,” You stroked him again.

“Fucking hells.”

He pushed you onto your stomach, looming above you as he pushed his pants down. He pushed into you with one thrust, making you gasp and clutch the sheets. He held your hips as he rutted into you, grunting with every thrust. You were stretched so tightly around him you could feel every inch of him as he moved.

“Cum inside me,” You heard yourself saying. You wanted to feel every part of him.

“Fuck,” The Hound groaned. He pulled out of you, sitting up on the bed and you were about to protest but he moved you again, moving you onto his lap. He watched your face as you felt him slide into you again. He pulled at the straps of your slip, letting it pool at your waist. He looked over your chest hungrily before leaning in, taking a nipple into his mouth, raking his teeth across it.

You moved your hips, making him groan low in his throat. He released your breast, wrapping his arms around you. You lifted your hands to grab his face. He flinched as you made contact with the burnt flesh, but he let you hold his face as he thrusted up into you. You pressed your lips to his. Oddly, this felt more intimate than having him full hilt inside of you.

You moved in sync with him, feeling him deep inside of you as he released, a shudder running through him. You pressed your forehead to his as you both breathed heavily. He kept his arms around you, holding you close to him.

A clap of thunder made you jump and he squeezed you tighter, a rumbling laugh coming from the Hound beneath you. You had forgotten all about the storm raging outside. He pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to your temple.

“Don’t worry about the storm.”

#there was only one bed #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane x you #sandor clegane #game of thrones #got #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones reader insert #reader insert #reader insert smut #smut #reader insert fanfiction #GOT fanfiction #sandor clegane fanfiction #sandor clegane smut #the hound

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blankdblank · 3 years

Text

Poke Pt 7 - Yacht Party

…

Whistling in the exit of your closet Eddie took in your own toga reminiscent style dress the bright white sheer layered skirt was slit up to the upper thigh and met the golden belt that separated the base from the lace top. With thick straps in white and a low dip in the cleavage almost to the belly button that flowed out to reveal the golden glittery heels you had chosen for the event. “Wow. You need a sign to remind gentlemen to pick their jaws up off the floor.”

“Funny,” you teased, folding a stretchy pair of shorts to cover the thigh holsters for a couple of your daggers for worst case scenario that also would help keep guys from peeking up your skirt if the wind blew the slit back too widely. “I’m sure no one will care about my dress as I death grip the wall.”

“I can skip the trip to prison if you need me there.”

“I’m ok. If I feel bad I am not above fainting or breaking into hysterics to have Tony himself fly me home. Or maybe Prince Thor, I think he can fly if he has his hammer.”

“You can beat this evening. I know you can.”

After a hug for him you said, “You’ll miss visiting hours.” And he chuckled hugging you back and kissed you on your cheek taking notice of the one side of your hair braided back so you could flip the rest over to your left side knowing the boat would drive it wild no matter what you tried to do with it.

The ride didn’t calm things and from the concrete pathway to the wooden docks your focus shifted in a means to calm yourself on the pelicans and gulls who watched your stroll beyond the guards at the entrance who took your invitation shared the lit pathway would guide you to the proper ship. At the base of the plank bridge to get onto the yacht you paused hearing the guests already aboard.

Mid stare at a gull hovering above the boat in a try to focus on anything but the fact you would be out on the open ocean for who knows how long you flinched to look at Sam in his step up to your side with an impressed whistle. “My sister would die of envy seeing this ship. She loves to sail.” His eyes landed on you asking, “Ever been on a boat like this?”

“I’ve been on ferries, but I haven’t been over the open ocean yet.”

“You’ll be okay. Stark’s probably built this thing himself. Bound to be unsinkable.”

“Well, there’s a history of unsinkable ships that beg to differ when it comes to that claim.”

He chuckled and said, “We’ll be just fine. Just in case,” he said showing his duffel bag at his side holding his metal wings, “Brought my wings, things go south The Falcon’s got you.” To yourself you grinned and followed him up into the monstrosity of a boat.

Surely one that would make your ancestors weep, not just for the luxurious ability to have food storage, running clean water and plumbing but for the fact that nothing of the earth other than the single fallen tree stump of an end table was here. The wood was fake same as the faux leather seats and imitation marble finish on the metal surfaces. Nothing of this boat showed the respect boat makers used to put into building sea faring vessels to keep from displeasing the Gods in crossing the tumultuous open ocean and you guessed that might be why they always bothered you.

With legs crossed you sat with eyes fixed on the open ocean in your second level seat unable to keep on your feet to mingle in the crowded floor below. “Thirsty?” the voice at your side brought the sudden place of Prince Loki there with two drinks in hand, one of which with a pacifier band around the stem of the fruity blended drink he offered to you. “The bartender insisted I offer you this one.”

Unable to help it you chuckled and accepted the drink, “It’s a virgin margarita. Thank you.”

“What would maidenhood have to do with drink offers?” he asked and you glanced away to keep from spitting your sip of the drink on him. “Is it repulsive? I shall demand a new drink to replace it.”

You shook your head and giggled in catching his eye to say, “Virgin, when related to drinks means alcohol free.” And his eyes narrowed, “It’s illegal for people under 21 years old to drink alcohol in this country. Others it ranges from 14 to 18 depending on their culture.”

“Why would they have such variation?”

“Because hardly any of the countries share the same faiths, histories, cultures or beliefs on how they should be governed. So just stubbornness and idiocy.”

“I had hoped the drink would aid in a welcome of my company, you seemed troubled when I arrived.”

Softly you chuckled and replied, “Quite humorously for my bloodline I have a fear of open ocean outside of wooden boats.” His eyes locked onto yours in a moment of shock, “There’s no earth in this boat. Vikings paid homage to the Gods for smooth sailing across the oceans. Might just be me.”

And he grinned your way stating, “Not only you. Those who can hear Yggdrasil have higher expectations when it comes to vessels. Your ancestors would be proud you wish to honor their traditions, the ocean is not a fair mistress, she is an insurmountable warrior, she demands respect.”

“How have your candles and soaps been?” You asked to change the subject, uncertain of what meaning his lingering stare into your eyes meant.

“Quite exquisite. Thank you again for your care in crafting the mixtures for us to our likings. Your customers have been favorable of temperament?”

“For the most part. Before the shoes Natasha and Steve bought me I got shunned a bit because of my clearly worn name brand shoes, but the new ones have helped to give me a bit of credit to my image. Used to be called an immigrant and now people are asking if I’m paying my dues in the entertainment or beauty world until I get my big break. When Stark came in I almost thought he would just order enough to use that as a means to force me to accept the money he offered.”

“What should it matter what shoes you wear when you are working?”

“The shop has an image to uphold for their most superficial of clientele.”

“Should they ever release you from employment alert my brother and myself and we shall raze the building to cinders.” That had you giggle around your next sip and he said, “You doubt my loyalty.”

“Not at all, Prince Loki. Merely I question how Stark would handle the discovery of who was behind the attack after he’s vetted you both as Heroes.”

“Not one person in my lifetime has been foolish enough to dub me a Hero. I am the God of Mischief and Deceit.”

His eyes lowered to the hand you offered him that his rose palm up to accept, “Fool, right here, pleasure to meet you.” To himself he chuckled and smiled in a glance away. “See, that smile,” he glanced back and chuckled again as you said, “Pure sunshine. You can’t convince me there’s evil in there no matter how many times you stab your brother.”

“I unleashed an army on New York,”

“Oh who hasn’t unleashed havoc on New York. Havoc is the new pink pumps of the season, everybody has to have some. New York, Washington, California, your brother leveled a town in New Mexico. Now you go and attack Rhode Island or someplace small like that then we can talk crossing into unthinkable territory, which is seven miles below evil. You have to earn evil.”

He smirked and at the notice he was still holding your hand he released it to take hold of his drink for a sip to break his stare only to look down at that hand resting on his knee when the boat began to pull away from the dock. “I murdered my birth father.” He blurted out as if to try and not lie to you or make you believe he was anything but evil as most from his planet thought.

“Did he raise you?”

“No.”

“Were you close or just a birthday card once a year type of situation?”

“He abandoned me at birth in a frozen tundra in the midst of a battle between the Jotuns and Asgardians and never acknowledged me as his child or that I even existed.”

You nodded and said, “Selfish quim had it coming then.” Throatily to your sip of your drink he chuckled and bubbled into a few moments of unforgiving laughter. “I’d pick Frigg as a mother any day over that bastard.”

“King Laufey of the Jotuns, or Frost Giants, as some nations dub them.”

“Odin’s half Frost Giant in the legends. They knew each other?”

“Odin,” his eyes fell on you, “Father is half Frost Giant in the legends?” You nodded and he said, “He never speaks of this if it is true.”

“Well he’s probably jealous.” You said and his brow twitched up, “If it was between me and you to be Jotun I’d stay mum simply because you have to be the peak example of Jotun prowess.”

“Asgardians tell bedtime stories of Jotuns to terrify their children and frighten them to behave or they will be eaten.” He said mournfully and looked out at the sea.

“I’d start biting people then.” You said and in the spread of his smile you said, “Always a monster till you’re necessary. How the universe works. The odd one, the new one, that one who doesn’t belong. Till they need you, till they’re scared. So much easier to be scared of the new than to trust it. Well I trust you,” you said and he caught your eye again, “And you can’t stop me. I’m stark raving mad with power and will cackle in their disbelieving faces for not trusting pure sunshine.” You said with a wide smile making him chuckle again.

“Are you certain there is no alcohol in that drink?” He teased.

“Just tons of sugar.” You said taking another giggle laced sip as he took a sip of his own drink. “I heard you’re over seventeen hundred years old? How does that line up to our age progression? If that isn’t too personal.”

“Roughly similar to your age I would presume. Young adulthood.”

You gasped and said, “And they gave you alcohol, someone get this man a pacifier.” You said teasingly turning your head to call it out making him chuckle and simply use his arm closest to you to prop himself up to scoot closer.

“Shh,” he whispered through a chuckle by your ear and you giggled again. “There is little substance on this planet able to inebriate myself and my brother.” He said with his eyes focused on yours when you turned your head slightly to catch his bright gaze and smile.

The ship took a wide turn and your joking mood waned and his hand covered yours at the returned grip of his knee to lace his fingers under your palm, and next to your ear he asked, “How would you like to play a game?” You caught his gaze and he grinned nodding his head at the crowd stating, “Say a name.” He watched your eyes dance over the women in toga influenced gowns surrounded by men in both togas and white and golden suits and you chose one from the back that with a flash of green in his eyes had the man start to dance absurdly awkward luring out your smile and giggle again.

Innocent fun, insignificant playful pranks that had Prince Thor search for his brother in the crowds until he spotted him at your side with his hand on yours. Loki would never have openly chosen such a public display with anyone he dared to imagine courtship until proper tasks of approval had been sought for and by the clear try to not let you have a break to focus on anything but his magic. And the game upon his knowing Thor was looking his way had the Prince conjuring fables and joking tales in front of the possibly distressed young Shieldmaiden he would never dream of damaging her honor. Something was bothering their young respected friend and his brother while Thor saw to his sea wary Mate was distracting his chosen companion for the evening in a far more acceptable use of his magic at this party.

Some food was sampled from the migrating attendees made from faceless drones that somehow had you more weirded out than the ship. One of which that had Peter hanging on his back while it held a bucket and led him to lie down on the couch beside the pair of you. The move had you inch closer to the Prince and had his gaze drop to the thigh pressed against his to something hard he felt tap the side of his leg. He felt himself unable to help but smirk at the clear hilt of a dagger poking out from underneath the shorts that blended into your skirt from afar in its same brilliant white shade. And in a low purr beside your ear as you handed over your empty glass to a drone to free a hand so you could check Peter’s temperature the Prince asked, “Please tell me that’s a dagger on your thigh.”

With a blush to the green mist that eased the hilt of two coiled snakes in bright silver into view widening his grin as he caught sight of the full design. And he could imagine the blade in his mind by the hint of metal beneath the hilt his mist hid away again as Pepper hurried over with some sea sickness medicine. “Where else would I keep it?” you whispered back widening his grin to the point he nipped at his lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

Pepper in her trot up to Peter’s side offered him a fizzing drink he accepted and took your help to prop himself up to sip on it, “Here you go Peter.” And her eyes rose to you asking, “Are you sea sick too? I haven’t seen you on the main floor since we took off.”

“I’ve got a thing with metal boats in open ocean,” her lips parted, “I’m good sitting. Body just prefers wood boats it seems. Prince Loki’s been distracting me.”

“Well if you need anything let us know.”

“Does he make a lot of these drones?”

Pepper sighed saying, “It’s a new thing. He said he’d make them faceless since I thought fake humanoid ones might bother me, but these aren’t any better, sadly.”

“Because he does know about all the evidence on making AI’s and how devastatingly bad that could go?”

“I remind him daily. Only, seems he forgets, daily. Progress,” she said shaking her head and rising to her feet to go check on another person muttering, “This party is the stuff of nightmares with these waves.”

In a glance at Loki you asked, “If Stark builds AI’s can I plead asylum on Asgard?”

He smirked asking, “AI?”

“Robots with free will. Always turns out that they want to destroy the human race. Borderline Ragnarok for our race.”

“Should there be any danger to this planet we will grant you asylum. I give you my word.”

“How important are potatoes on your planet? Because if they don’t grow there I will be smuggling some there. My ancestors didn’t get to enjoy them in the older generations, but I know they look down on me in envy. Even broke I eat like a King.” Making him chuckle again. “I’m serious, one of the best foods discovered on this planet is the potato.”

“Potatoes are amazing,” Peter sighed after finishing his drink and laying flat again. “I would bring lemons. My aunt gets this big smile when she sees lemons. I don’t get it, but it makes her happy. And I’d have to bring her too of course.”

Loki smiled saying, “We have six variations of potatoes and four lemon breeds. The pair of you and young Peter’s aunt would be amply pleased.”

“Could I have a sheep? My parents promised to get me a sheep when I was bigger. Or is it mainly city spaces without any room for cottages?”

“We have a mixture of both. A quaint cottage could be arranged, or a plot of garden and field to keep your sheep in should you prefer an apartment in the Palace. With ample workers to help train you in treatment and sheering of your sheep when necessary.”

In a giggle you replied, “I would need sheep lessons.” Making him chuckle as well.

At their sides save for a trip to the bathroom you remained until the boat docked again and Loki rose to gently help you up and lead both you and still unsteady Peter to the dock. The assigned car to drive you back however found him reluctantly in release of the hand his had been fixed in for hours now. “Thank you, for the asylum and the sheep,” you said in words that muffled in the ears of the Prince whose cheek you had left a peck upon. “Sleep well, Sunshine.” You said and in a lower to sit inside the car.

“Sleep well and safe on the earth, Shieldmaiden Pear.”

Vision. The newest Avenger had his face plastered across the internet and all you could think of was the promise the Asgardian Prince had made you and it just made your stomach turn. He was so polite and out of everybody he could have spent his time with he seemed to gravitate to your company. Even when a long train ride let you take a long stroll in Central Park that had you run into the Super Soldiers and Sam on a run. When the Zoo was mentioned the Princes seemed to appear in mid air and as if to counter Bucky’s time with your attention another animal would be pointed to and his questions would arise all aimed your direction.

End to end between your fingers your Mate button box was flipped to tap against the counter easing the slide of your fingers to the bottom to aid the lift and flip of the box to do it again. No matter why he was focusing on you there had to be a line and you couldn’t stop hiding from your fears of finding out who your Mate was by humoring the attentions of the Avengers. Onto the counter you settled the button box and gave the button a single tap that almost an hour away had Loki’s eyes twitch off his book confirming he was alone in his gifted apartment followed by an irritated grumble and nestle back into his spot to ignore the unhelpful poke of his Mate from this infuriating planet.

Several taps more in a notice of the muffin bag you had gotten from a café earlier that had you murmur, “Let’s meet for coffee at the Blue Bird Café. Nine AM.” Your fingers tapped before you could think it through just how many could understand Morse Code this day and age, you just had to try and see if anyone would turn up.

And just like you knew it deep down, no one did, at nine or ten when you had finished off pretending to write out something in your pocket journal after you’d finished your first cider and just wanted to go anywhere but there.

Glaring as he made his way to the group lunch after a much needed breakfast alone Loki plopped into his seat and turned his gaze to Natasha at her asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Ten minutes my Mate poked me last night, ten minutes. All in some absurd pattern,” Loki repeated the pattern with the tip of his finger on the table and had her, Bucky and Bruce listening to the meanings of the taps.

Bucky however asked the question the others didn’t, “So did you meet your Mate for coffee?”

Loki glared at him, “I beg your pardon?”

Bruce, “That’s Morse Code. Old school. Must have been eager to meet you rarely hear of people using it these days outside of military or science families.”

Loki asked in a slightly panicked tone, “Where would I meet them?”

Bucky said, “Blue Bird Café, nine am.”

Loki didn’t have to look at the clock but said in his rush from the table, “It’s half past noon!”

He didn’t know where that was but he knew who to talk to to get into Stark’s system. Knowing fully he had links to cameras everywhere. “Red Man, I require your assistance.”

“I am Vision, Green Noble.” The Prince led the way to one of the public labs that linked to his system that Loki linked into the simple online page of the only Blue Bird Café in New York that was located in Queens.

“I need you to help me use Stark’s system to see who was in this café this morning.”

“Are we searching for a culprit in a crime you are aware of?” Vision asked in his hover beside the Prince.

“My Mate used Morse Code to send me a message I did not understand last night and I missed the meeting they tried to arrange. I wish to know who I have spurned to offer my apologies and win back their favor.”

“Oh, very admirable then.” He said lowering as he said, “I am under the understanding that a Mate is the strongest bond you might find in your lifetime. I anxiously await my eighteenth year to have earned my own chance to meet mine.” Raising his hand to link to the system that began to shift the screen windows to delve through the system to first link into the café’s security and the street cameras to watch every person from eight am onwards.

“Pluto,” Loki muttered in the sight of you wearing an anxious expression and a slightly less casual dress entering the café, ordering a drink and muffin with glances at the door to every entrance in a clearly sinking mood as Vision continued to run facial recognition through a database while the video played.

Vision said, “From the 47 customers 24 are legally married and another 17 have announced themselves as engaged on their social media accounts.”

“Pluto Pear, that woman. When did she leave exactly?” Visio read back the time stamp and he said, “I need a print out of this list, I’m going to start with her.”

Vision asked to the print of the page behind him, “Does the young lady hold a certain physical appeal for you to begin with her?”

“I know her. I would never wish for her to believe I have left her there alone. As if I had refused to meet her on the grounds of being my Mate.”

Vision said, “Ah. Then yes, begin with the young Miss Pear.” He said offering the printed sheet that Loki accepted and hurried with rushed thanks in his race out to go and the whole while his mind raced with a single repetition, it had to be you.

Truly for months now any excuse to cross paths was taken including a laughable amount of candles and soap with films, trips out between your shifts and group meals he always made certain to be chaperoned for everyone’s comfort and for your honor the Prince searched. You were the one to make him laugh and find some sense of ease on this planet with a person who seemed to genuinely care about his comfort and tried to keep him from growing too homesick or thoughts on his lineage to spoil his wishes to ever return. If you weren’t his Mate he never desired to meet the person who dared to poke him. He didn’t want to be forced onto anyone else, he had subconsciously chosen you for a while now and would continue to do so.

Three knocks soon bled to five and before the sixth could land you had opened your front door to the wide eyed Prince who rapidly opened his fist to an awkward wave. “Miss Pear. Might I come in?”

“Sure,” you said letting him inside closing the door behind him in his awkward check of the single room apartment with a lingering gaze at the boat shaped bed he pointed to mid amused smirk. “My first year here there was a play they used that as a prop in and put it up cheap for sale after it closed. Really comfy.” You looked him over and asked, “You have to go on another mission? Only seen you twitchy like this when you had to leave town.”

“No,” he replied and moved closer offering the cider in his hand you hadn’t noticed. “I owe you a drink.”

In the narrow of your eyes you accepted the still warm cup saying, “Thank you. Don’t recall how, but thank you.”

“I don’t know Morse Code.”

Your lips parted to ask over the thunder of your heart in your ears, “Did you want me to teach you.”

“Not today, thank you.” He inhaled sharply and said, “I know you went to the Blue Bird Café this morning and I know that you didn’t meet the person you had hoped to.”

“I-,”

In a step closer he cut you off saying, “Because I don’t know Morse Code and it took me repeating the lengthy set of taps that kept me up last night to those amongst the team who do.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out in realization of what you guessed and halfway hoped he might be saying.

“So I came here to ask you to poke me again,” his eyes lowered to the finger that rose to tap him in the center of his chest that had him let out a breathy chuckle and scan his eyes over your face that was still devoid of anything readable but uncertainty and shock. “No, with your button, do you have it?”

“Oh, button,” sharply your head turned setting the drink down and gingerly he shadowed you in your circle of your bed to the near burrow under the fake fur blanket you had to do to grab the button that seemed to try and keep it hidden for itself. When you stood again you eased your fingers around the sides of the box with its mint colored button now a deep green that with a press of your thumb had him exhale shakily to the poke he felt.

He didn’t know what to do or say and yet all on its own it seemed his body acted to first cradle your cheek then lean in to press his lips to yours in a blind hope that however possible he could seal this bond to never break. Just as loudly as yours his heart thundered in his chest for the action his body had taken without permission.

And when your eyes met again his breath hitched hearing you whisper at the sight of the swirls of green mist that had filled the room with sparkling veins of gold to glimmer around the both of you. His skin now blue with raised ridges trailing across his skin in snowflake like unique markings to just him from his Jotun blood paired with his crimson eyes. “Was that supposed to happen or was it on accident.”

“The mist was unintentional.” He hummed back lowly and in his lean forward to brush his nose to yours his body melted forward at the toe top lift to kiss him again. With the close of your eyes covering his shift back after his notice of the color of his hand still on your cheek. An action and pose he lingered in to savor every second of it.

“Blue is a good color on you, Sunshine.” You said and his lips parted only for the growl of his stomach to make you grin and claim his hand and say, “Let’s feed you and that angry rhino you swallowed.”

Out of your slow cooker some jambalaya was served for the both of you to go with the cheesy mashed potatoes you topped with bacon bits he amusedly poked with his spoon as if it was possibly toxic. “I’m not going to poison you,” you giggled out.

“No, there is a topping like these pebbles on Asgard and it is merely awful.”

“Well this is tiny bits of bacon.”

“Bacon,” he said in an intrigued tone and took a bite he hummed around making you giggle to yourself.

“Midgard isn’t so bad, we’ve done amazing things with bacon.”

“That you have,” he said filling his spoon again with some of the jambalaya that while he chewed it his eyes scanned over your face in your downwards gaze, “Are you pleased?” he managed to ask when he swallowed lifting your eyes again to his.

“Could use more sausage. They’re so stingy on the weight per cent these days.”

“With me?” He asked in a near squeak afraid of the answer.

“As my Mate?” you asked and he nodded, “You are indescribable. You can do magic, I mean come on, I started magic when I was a kid and dreamed to have someone who would be so much more spectacularly talented than myself. Need I say, the essence of pure sunshine in your veins. You accept my Norse roots. Some people would just label me a witch on that alone. And you tolerate my weirdness, major plusses there.”

“I would assume, my title-,”

“Psh,” you said lifting his gaze from his bowls. “I would be honored to be bound to you if you ran a button stand.” You said triggering an awkward grin across his face at the compliment. “If anything the expectations of your possible requirement to take up after Odin on what I would only assume to be a possibly uncomfortable looking golden throne in that floating golden Palace would trouble me for the increase of scowls that would develop from the stress and drive that smile of yours away. Not to mention the heightened risk of stress on the heart from a job of that level.” After a moment of his amused grin your way you asked, “Do you really live forever?”

“Roughly 5071 years.”

“Well Bucky’s close to a century and he hasn’t seemed to age much, Steve was frozen for most of his. So I suppose logically, I can’t say how long I would be around.”

His brow inched up and he said, “I would find you. No matter where in Hel they settle you to spend your afterlife.”

You nodded and asked in a rather embarrassed tone, “No possible way I could get to Valhalla then?”

“You most certainly could well earn place there. Few Midgardians are welcomed, I did not mean to worry you or offer insult.”

You shook your head, “It’s just all different than how I was taught. You’re Frigga’s son, and Thor isn’t a redhead, no telling what else could be different. I mean did you at least give birth to a eight legged horse Odin rides around on?”

“Did I what?” he chuckled out with a widening smile.

“I mean who wouldn’t be able to learn to love a guy who gave birth to Hel, the Goddess of Death; Jörmungand, the serpent that surrounds the world; and Fenrir or Fenrisúlfr, the wolf; and Sleipnir, Odin's eight-legged horse.”

“Thor did advise us the mortals had warped our tales, yet I had no imagination it could be that vastly different.” He paused and asked, “Hel, is she prominent in my life in the tales? I have never heard of a Goddess of that name.”

You said, “Those you had with the female giant Angerboda. You seem to love her in the tales. Though most of your tales I prefer include your other wife, Sigyn. You had a son with her, named Nari or Narfi.” His lips parted, “Odin uses your son’s intestines to chain you to a rock where snakes drip their venom on you and she sits beside you with a bowl to collect it. Though when she dumps it out and the venom drips on your face you thrash around causing the earth to quake. It’s quite the tale of devotion in Norse Mythology. There’s actually quite a tale for how you got married, she was betrothed to another and on the wedding day you kill him and take his shape and then reveal yourself after and she tells Odin she will honor the marriage. Sigyn’s basically known only for her devotion to you.”

“I have never wed, nor know of a Sigyn. I could never imagine my father able to bind anyone with the innards of their own child.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He shook his head, “No, you have not upset me. Although I am curious to ponder on when the tales stretched so far from the truth. Perhaps an exceptionally harsh winter with little to distract from boredom.”

“Well that’s the thing about legends. Everyone who first heard or saw them happen is dead. Kind of like the phone tree game,” his brows furrowed a moment in confusion to the name, “One person in a circle whispers to another, it can be a word or funnier a phrase and gradually through the circle the words change. Sometimes for the worse. Known a few to end in fist fights when they made us do it in schools in some mock trial to stomp out bullying as a sort of way to display how gossip explodes like wild fire. Then again it could be a testament to hearing loss rather than weak attention spans on trading whispers.” As you eyed his grin after a glance away to fill your spoon you said, “Sorry, got away from me there.”

“You did not wander far. Often I find people who ramble show great promise of intellect. Brains that are rapid to focus on new topics are very welcome amongst our scientists.”

“It must be amazing, your home.”

“My people are brilliant compared to yours, however very gullible. Hence my prowess in mischief.”

“Well, if you assume to have all the answers why would you bother looking for more?” making him smirk proudly at your words. “They’ll learn, with enough shoves in the right direction, or enough books to hurl at them. Sometimes you need a bit of mischief to open some eyes.”

“Thor has been working up the nerve to request a trip for his Mate Jane Foster to Asgard. I imagine her introduction to our scientists would be less productive than to hear from one who has crafted a rainbow portal on her own with only supplies from Midgard. Even our best crafters alive today could not tap into that technology. When Thor broke the rainbow bridge that aids in the control of the Bifrost Mother had to travel to Hel to consult with one of our scientists we had lost a thousand years prior.”

“That must have been fun for you to experience.”

“I wasn’t there,” he whispered in a downward glance then cleared his throat and drew in a deep breath, “Perhaps I should share something else, other than my race with you.” When his eyes did rise he almost flinched seeing yours on his, “There’s a, being, a Titan.”

“Like in Greek Mythology?”

“I’m, not aware of their history.”

“Sorry, Titan?”

“Thanos. I fell from the bridge when Thor broke it. Through the open void of the universe I faded to, I don’t know where. There, Thanos found me. His henchman tortured me.”

“Loki,” you said reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm that had his hand turn over to wrap around the underside of yours welcoming the contact and sadness not pity in your gaze.

“I was gone, for so very long, time is, difficult in varied realms to compare.” He wet his lips and continued shakily, “I managed to escape, with a deal. He sent me with the scepter to bring him the tesseract. There are these stones, with different powers to control parts of the universe, he wants them all and has others to locate them for him. That was why, I opened that portal. Why I killed people. To let them know something bigger is out there, and that it’s coming.”

“Okay.”

“He wouldn’t have come on his own, but I lied to him. And my Father can’t protect this planet, or won’t. I won’t let him hurt you though. I swear. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

“That’s a tall order in this city. Plus even doors are a danger to me when I’m in a hurry.”

“I’m being serious, he has decimated civilizations before and enslaved millions he allowed to survive.” His eyes scanned yours finding an expression he couldn’t decipher and he asked, “What is that look for?”

“I have secrets, terrible things I should tell my Mate, for fair playing field since you’ve been so open with me. I do trust you, I just,”

“I understand.”

“It’s just been mine, for so long. Nearly my whole life now, and Eddie, he found me at and back again from my lowest point,” Loki nodded and bit the inside of his lip at the tear that rolled down your cheek all of a sudden. “He was the first person who cared since I got here, and I just had to tell someone. It was breaking me, and he got me help with his therapist, which has helped. I just, I don’t know why, but even with you being able to rain aliens down upon us, I’m scared to tell you everything.” Another tear down your cheek had him lean in closer to your side. “Because if you knew, what I am, you would hate me. I don’t know why Eddie hasn’t left yet. He should have left me by now.”

“He is not going to leave, and no matter what pain that lies in your past, I will not leave you. And I will wait until you welcome me into the fold. No matter how long it takes.”

The rest of the meal he remained at your side and moved with you to your couch to inch closer to cuddling through a film that allowed you both to a comfortable silence. Droops of your eyes however had him excise himself to allow you to rest. When you were on your feet however with sight of his back his body went rigid to the poke he felt that had him turn to see you with your button in hand say, “Double checking.”

Gently he claimed your free hand and raised it to his lips to kiss your knuckles on the hand he cradled after, “Get some rest. Tomorrow should Stark not interfere, hopefully I could arrange a lunch to make up for my misstep this morning.”

“Not your misstep. I shouldn’t have assumed anyone else would know Morse Code.”

“I will learn, there is no fault on your part. Only imagination.”

“You get some sleep too, Sunshine.” His grin widened, “Keep that stress on your heart down.”

“I shall try my hardest with Stark in the same tower.” He said stealing another press of his lips to your hand before he released it and led the way to the door you closed and locked behind your unbelievable Mate you secretly wished would have tried to kiss more than just your hand the second time.

Pt 8

All –

@sherala007, @mariannetora, @jesgisborne, @knitastically, @catthefearless, @theincaprincess, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000, @alishlieb,

Not nsfw(smut) - @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore

X Loki - @pastelhexmaniac

#Yacht Party #Soulmate AU #Loki x oc #sea sick #Eddie Brock #Peter Parker #Blue Bird Cafe #Vision #Bucky Barnes

14 notes · View notes

iturbide · 3 years

Note

*makes grabby hands* gimme protective Claude parents please and thank you (I LOVE the idea of them treating Edelgard's messenger very kindly and then sending them back with a venomous snake for Edelgard)

okay look this was going to be short and then it just stopped being that so please accept this text wall ft. Outsider Perspective on Almyra

The city Chelle’s Almyran escorts guided her through was overwhelming, chaotic, bustling with people who seemed to be constantly shouting over one another. It made her head ache, and all the more for the dizzying colors and scents of perfume and incense and spices hanging so thick in the noisy air that she could barely breathe. Enbarr might not have smelled like a rose most of the time, but at least it didn’t leave her feeling like her chest was full of wool every time she inhaled. But she dutifully followed the guards through the markets and the plazas, up and down a winding maze of streets, making their way (as best she could tell) toward the mesa towering over the city; she’d noticed the wyverns circling overhead when they first arrived, but as they drew closer she could see them appearing and disappearing from somewhere high up on the cliff face, though exactly where they were coming or going from was invisible even when she shaded her eyes against the sun.

It seemed odd that they were going toward the wyvern roost. “I need to go to the palace,” she repeated insistently, clutching her case slightly tighter. “I need to speak with Almyra’s leader.”

“Yes, yes,” one of the men sighed, “we heard you the first eight times.”

She frowned, but said no more, drumming her fingers on the graven wood instead. With every step, the mesa drew closer, the streets wider, and soon enough she could hear the dragons calling overhead, their cries and growls echoing off the crags to her ear…

A final turn, and her trepidation evaporated into awe. Through the cluttered sprawl of the city, she’d caught no sight of anything even remotely resembling a castle -- but here the rest of the buildings fell away before a grand plaza, deeply graven stones depicting heated battles leading to a grand arch carved directly into the stone of the cliff. She glanced at the carvings while she walked, picking out images of great knights, wyvern riders, myrmidons, snipers, and far more that she couldn’t identify before they passed beneath the gate and entered the mesa itself. Crossing the grand foyer, they wound their way up a wide flight of stairs, climbing until the sun vanished entirely, its light replaced by torches burning steadily within their sconces on the wall; by the time they reached the top of the steps, they had turned all the way around, and she spent a moment staring at the grand braziers burning on either side of the wooden doors, each carved with strikingly detailed wyverns in flight.

Her escorts did not so much as knock: instead they each pulled one of the doors open, casting pointed glances at her until she stepped through.

The room itself had clearly been carved directly into the native stone, just like the stairs and the foyer and the arch now far below them; this room, though, had honeycomb lattices etched through the far wall to allow the sunlight in, casting a warm glow across the brightly colored trappings and tapestries and shining bright across the golden thread adorning the four people at the center of the room.

None rose when their guest arrived, but only glanced up from where they lounged in a loose half-circle. Judging by their hair and features, the two men were clearly Almyran, while the women looked dubiously Fódlani: despite their tan complexions, one had far lighter brown hair than any Almyran she’d seen (and green eyes on top of it), while the other could have been a Goneril bastard given her shockingly pink features.

The older man shifted to beckon her closer, and she realized with a shock that he only had one arm. “You would be the envoy from Fódlan, yes?” he asked. “State your business here.”

“A-are you the chief of Almyra?” she asked, carefully shifting the case out of view and trying not to stare at where his empty sleeve had been rolled and pinned just below his shoulder.

His eyebrows went up. The brown-haired woman next to him scoffed, while the younger man didn’t bother trying to cover up his snort. “Wow, the Empire sure did their research,” he muttered, not even bothering to speak under his breath so she might not hear.

“Yes, I am the king of Almyra, Kemal al-Kader,” the older man said at last, gesturing to the woman beside him. “This is my partner, the queen of Almyra, Adara al-Kader. I will not ask again: state your business here.”

“Y-yes, sir,” Chelle chirped, scrambling forward and tearing her attention guiltily away from where the man’s right arm should have been to unlatch her messenger’s case. “My name Chelle Skeates, I’m a messenger from the Adrestian Empire, here on behalf of Empress Edelgard von Hresvelg to deliver a diplomatic treaty for your review and approval. The Empire--”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think we’ve discussed any treaty with Adrestia before, have we?” the younger man asked, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles while he sprawled back in the sunlight. “Doesn’t it seem a little strange that Edelgard’s sending a treaty for approval without any kind of discussion beforehand?”

“Empress Edelgard,” Chelle snapped.

“I am quite certain I would have remembered past dealings with Adrestians,” the king agreed.

“I bet they’d have remembered dealing with you, too,” the younger man grinned.

Chelle huffed, “the Empress wished me to relay her deepest respect and admiration to you, the rulers of Almyra, and her hope that our two great nations might establish a peaceful and mutually prosperous rela--”

“Peaceful!” the younger man howled, pounding his fist against his knee. “I don’t think she knows the meaning of the word!”

“And how,” the pink-haired woman chimed in.

“And just who are you supposed to be?” Chelle demanded, looking between the two.

“This is Tariq,” the king cut in smoothly, gesturing to the young man. “He is my advisor -- my right hand, if you will.”

The young man smirked. “You did that on purpose.”

The king smiled but did not respond; instead, it was the queen who spoke up, gesturing to the young woman at her side. “And this is Tahmina, my aide and guard.”

“Not that you really need a bodyguard,” the pink-haired woman giggled. “Your reputation scares off more people than I could with an axe.”

“Yes, well,” Chelle sniffed. “If I might continue: Empress Edelgard hopes that our two great nations might establish a peaceful and mutually prosperous relationship, and has done all in her power to craft a fair and equitable proposal for your review and approval. Fódlan’s Throat has been too long held closed by those of blind faith, so--”

“Wow, that old excuse?” Tariq muttered. “I’m almost surprised she didn’t try harder to butter you up, but...well, I guess I can’t fault her for getting comfortable with the rhetoric that got her where she is.”

“Your majesties, perhaps we could proceed with this in private?” Chelle pleaded.

The king raised a brow again. “Did I not hear that you are a messenger? Is it not your duty to carry messages back as well as forth?”

“W-well, yes, but--”

“It is not solely the response to your Empress’ treaty that you will be relaying back, then, is it?” he pointed out. “It is your mission to deliver all messages, including our words in response to those she sent herself. The points Tariq makes are sound ones, from what we know of how Fódlan came under your Empress’ rule. You would do well remembering them when you return to her.”

“So...Tariq speaks for you, then, Your Majesty?” she ventured.

“Not for me, no.” The man waved the words away, sharing a brief glance with his advisor. “But I value his speech, and consider his words when the time comes to choose my own. That is the purpose of an advisor, is it not? To advise.”

“It seems more like your advisor is trying to pick a fight with me,” Chelle protested.

“Not you,” Tariq replied. “Not really. My problem is with the person who sent you. Since I can’t argue with her directly, I just have to pick apart the words she put in your mouth and in your hands.”

“Speaking of.” The king held out his hand and gestured to Chelle, who obediently opened her case and removed the heavy vellum emblazoned with the gilt crest of the Hresvelg family. Fanning the pages out before him, the man braced his bearded chin against his fist, paying no mind to the three others who crowded in to see the flowing script. “Have you read this?”

It took her a moment to understand the words, and it was only when his gaze flicked up to meet hers that she realized the question had been directed to her. “Oh! No, sir, Your Majesty, this is the first time I’ve seen it, I swear…”

The answer did not seem to please him. Instead he made a thin noise, shifting to free his hand and wave her away while his attention returned to the parchment. “We will need several days to review and prepare our response. And you have had a long journey: take this time to rest before you set off again.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she mumbled, bowing deeply and backing toward the open doors. He didn’t acknowledge the address, nor even her departure; her last glimpse of the king was of a one-armed man with traces of silver in his dark hair and neat beard, his head bowed over the papers she had brought and a scowl carved across his face.

-----

Chelle was used to long missions and short breaks. Weeks of travel from Enbarr to the far corners of the Adrestian Empire, perhaps a day or two of rest before heading either back or elsewhere. It was the life she’d come to expect as a messenger.

Six days. She was certain this was the most time off she’d had in almost two years on the job, and all because the king had asked for time to prepare a suitable response to Adrestia’s treaty. The Almyrans were surprisingly considerate hosts, providing not only room and board and meals, but an escort to show her around. After a few days the chaos of the Almyran city began to feel almost pleasant, though she couldn’t hope to navigate it alone, its sights and scents growing more intriguing the more time she spent there. Her guide one day had even bought her a trinket from the market: an antler carved in the likeness of a leaping deer, which she described as a totem favored by scouts and couriers for swift journeys and safe passage.

She thought she might miss this, when she made her trip back to the Locket. The noise, the bustle, the colors and patterns everywhere she looked...even the constant presence of wyverns no longer surprised her, and she wondered if it would be strange not hearing their occasional keening in the night or the sound of wingbeats overhead as they circled the mesa and its surrounding city. But if nothing else, she’d have one final memory to take home with her: a grand send-off feast, complete with dancing around fires that blazed nearly as tall as she stood, men and women carousing regardless of how much they’d drunk. She felt warm and contented watching it all, well-fed and nursing her second cup of spicy-sweet wine…

“Have you been enjoying yourself?”

She jumped, whirling so fast she nearly spilled her drink. Tariq grinned sidelong at her, swirling his own cup while she sputtered and scrabbled for words. “Y-y...you!!”

“Me?” he asked innocently, touching his chest with one hand.

“What are you doing here!?”

“Checking on you,” he chuckled. “It’s your last night, and all--”

“After how you tried to make a fool of me in front of the king!?”

“When did I do that?” he protested, seeming genuinely surprised.

“I couldn’t get two words out without you making some...some snide comment about it!”

“Well, to be fair, they weren’t your words I was commenting on, they were Edelgard’s--”

“Empress Edelgard,” she corrected.

“Edelgard’s,” he repeated stubbornly. “It really wasn’t anything against you.”

“It was...it was so rude!” she huffed, stomping her foot adamantly on the stones.

“Maybe in the Empire it is, but that’s just how things work here,” he shrugged. “Gotta get your words in edgewise while you’ve got the chance.”

“So I should have just talked over you?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” he agreed.

“That’s even more rude!”

“Again, maybe in the Empire, not here.”

Fuming, she threw back the last of her wine, shivering as it burned its way down her throat. “What do you have against Empress Edelgard, anyway?”

“More than you can imagine,” he muttered.

“Then tell me,” she insisted.

He looked at her, and she noticed for the first time that despite his clearly Almyran features and complexion, his eyes were a curious shade of green. “You’re on...what, your second cup? Third?”

“Second,” she confirmed.

“Let’s get you another.”

Chelle groaned, stomping off after the man weaving his way effortlessly through the dancers. She lost him somewhere in the crush of bodies, and finally gave up, squirming her way out to a quieter corner to catch her breath and try to pick him out of the crowd…

Someone tapped her cup with the mouth of a wineskin. “Sure,” she muttered, holding it out.

“Good, because ‘no’ wasn’t really an option.”

She jumped, nearly dropping her newly-refilled drink as she whirled on Tariq. “Where did you go!?” she demanded.

“To get more wine, like I said?” He shrugged, topping off her cup and his own before tying the bag and tucking it under his arm. “So. You want to know what I have against Edelgard?”

“Empress Edelgard,” she corrected automatically.

“You never read that treaty she sent.”

“I was directed to bring it to the rulers of Almyra. Why would I read it, when I’m not the recipient?”

“Do you want to read it?”

She squinted at him, taking another sip of her drink. “Is this a trick?”

“No? Why would I try to trick you?”

“Because you’re rude,” she mumbled.

“I’m telling you, that’s just how it works here,” he chuckled. “But do you want to read it?”

“...I’m just a courier. I won’t really know what it says.”

“I can translate it for you,” he grinned. “It’s what I’ve spent the past four days doing, after all.”

“I can’t speak Almyran, either!”

“Why would it be in Almy--wait, no, not that kind of translation!” His laughter sounded completely different from the jeering she’d heard when she arrived: it seemed warm and even kind, and she sheepishly took another sip of wine as she watched him. “The whole thing’s written in Fódlani, no need to worry about that. I was just getting down to what it really meant, under all the fancy language they used to make it sound official.”

Well...that didn’t sound so bad, really. “...I guess it could be interesting to see it,” she agreed.

“Follow me, then.” He grinned, striding off into the dark -- but this time he avoided the boisterous dance, skirting around the edges of the fire until he found the king and queen laughing and carousing among a group of hardened-looking warriors. Tariq called something out in Almyran, which caught the older man’s attention; he glanced at Chelle in the next moment, smiling and nodding before returning his attention to the people around him.

From there they left the plaza, passing beneath the arch and into the Almyran palace, up the torchlit stairs...then off down another hallway, rather than into the room she’d first delivered the treaty to; up another narrow set of steps carved into the native stone, down the hall, and through another door that opened on a comfortable, well-lit room occupied by a table surrounded by empty chairs and strewn with open books and scrolls. Dropping into one of the seats, he gestured to another, waiting for Chelle to sit before fanning the vellum pages out before her; she fidgeted for a moment, glancing at him while he propped his chin in his hand...and finally turning her eyes to the words on the page.

It became very clear very quickly why he’d spent so long ‘translating,’ as he put it. Not only was it a long document with dense writing, but the words themselves made her head spin; for a moment she wondered if the wine was to blame, but two cups couldn’t explain how much of her own language made no sense to her. She was aware of the man sitting next to her, reading the same words she did without apparent struggle...and when she fidgeted and glanced in his direction, he tore his gaze from the page, raising a brow in silent invitation.

“...please?” she mumbled.

“Of course,” he nodded. “So, a lot of this stuff at the beginning is trade details -- the Empire’s offering some nice exchange terms on major exports with a slight bias in Almyra’s favor, not enough to raise suspicions but certainly tempting.” He moved a few pages off to the side, running his fingertip down the parchment. “Diplomatic terms. These are balanced, mostly: stuff about equality in the alliance, mutual aid, so on and so on...and then there’s this.”

He moved another page aside and tapped a passage partway down; she leaned in, squinting as though that would help her parse the words better. “Military alliance,” she read. “In the event that one of our two nations should come under threat from without or within, the other shall furnish soldiers and armaments suitable for the defense of the endangered territory or to maintain peace therein, adhering to the law of whatever land they have been deployed to protect.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“That...if something happens to you, we’ll come help, and the other way around?” she ventured.

“On the surface, that’s what it implies,” he agreed. “But this is where the danger is. It looks like nothing to worry about, that we’ll each help each other if something goes wrong...but then there’s that phrase, ‘threat from without or within.’ That means that if there’s civil unrest -- like, say, forcibly conquered territories rebelling to reclaim their independence -- Edelgard could call on Almyra and use this agreement to force us to send soldiers to maintain her control over those territories. There’s nothing in here about what provisions the Empire would provide to those forces they call in, either: Almyra’s still expected to feed and supply their own forces, even though they’re in Imperial territory enforcing Imperial law.”

“That can’t be right,” Chelle protested, flipping through the rest of the pages.

“I read this whole thing through at least eight times,” he muttered. “The king and queen went at it at least three, themselves. If it was in here, one of us would have caught it.”

“Then...then it must have been a mistake. It was meant to be in there and...maybe a page got left out, it can be noted and addressed in your response…”

“It was intentional.”

“You can’t know that!” she protested.

“You’re right: I can’t be completely sure. But I think the implications are pretty clear from this.”

He set aside a few more pages and tapped another passage, this one near the end of the page, and she leaned in close to read the words. “Extradition clause: should it become known that entities who pose a threat to the peace or sovereignty of one of our two nations have sought refuge within the other, either the nation housing them will detain and transport them to face trial and punishment within the nation where their crimes were committed, or the offended nation will be granted freedom to enter allied territories for the purposes of tracking and securing the criminal for transport to trial.” She looked at him again, trying to release some of the tension furrowing her brow. “What’s so bad about that? Isn’t it saying that if a criminal tries to get away across the border, they won’t be able to escape?” She might not have understood all the words, but that seemed like the general message…

“On the surface, yes,” he agreed, “that’s what it implies. But there’s nothing in here to say what would be considered ‘criminal acts.’ There’s just that thing about ‘posing a threat to the peace and sovereignty of the nation.’ So, for instance: if worshippers of Seiros fled across the border into Almyra seeking asylum, Edelgard could -- theoretically -- declare that their faith makes them enemies of Adrestia, and either force Almyra to round them up and send them back to face trial for the crime of having faith in a religion she hates, or she could use it as an excuse to send Imperial soldiers into Almyra, and they could -- again, theoretically -- round up any other refugees from conquered Fódlan territories on similar charges.”

“How could they do that without some cause for it?”

“They could claim cause simply from the fact that they fled the Empire,” he shrugged. “If they had nothing to hide or had committed no crimes, why wouldn’t they have stayed?”

“Wouldn’t they need proof? Or...or wouldn’t they need to say who they’re looking for, and why, when they come in to search?” she insisted.

“Those conditions might help,” he agreed, “if they were in here. Which they’re not. Again: after eight reads, I’m pretty sure I’d have spotted it.”

“That’s...it’s not…”

“Possible?” he offered. “Fair? Reasonable?” She shook her head fiercely, setting her mostly full cup aside to avoid spilling it and squeezing her trembling hands together. “...right?” he suggested. She nodded, staring again at the words written in such a careful hand, willing them to change even though she knew they wouldn’t. “Yeah. It’s not. It’s dangerous, and it’s all hidden in the middle of this block of text to try and get it past us: the end is just more pleasantries, again biased on Almyra’s favor, like someone was expecting us to check the beginning and the end and get lulled into a false sense of security by the good terms there: they hid all the damning stuff in the middle and banked on it getting glossed over or missed by inattentive diplomats. My money’s on Hubert setting it up this way: it has his greasy fingerprints all over it.”

“Why?” she choked out.

“I couldn’t say for sure,” Tariq sighed. “But I can give you my guess, if you want.” He waited, and only when she nodded did he draw another breath. “The Empire conquered Fódlan. Formerly independent territories, like the Kingdom of Faerghus and the Leicester Alliance, had their freedom stripped away, and more than likely had their autonomy taken with it: even the Alliance, where there was a pro-Imperial faction, fell under the jurisdiction of an Empire-born noble, didn’t it?” She nodded slightly, biting her lip and tightening her fingers until she began to lose feeling in them. “Generally, that kind of treatment isn’t likely to win her friends and allies, or endear her to the ones she had. Unrest isn’t just a possibility in those conquered territories, it’s almost a guarantee -- and after spending five years at war, the Imperial Army’s probably not doing so great: her forces are stretched thin keeping the peace in her forcefully annexed new territories, and she needs help to maintain control over her ‘united’ Fódlan. So she thought she’d try to get someone on her side to help her in that, give them something she could part with and get what she needed more than anything else: military aid. The extradition portion is icing on the cake for when she gets things under better control and can divide her attention again.”

“...you’re not going to accept it, are you?” Chelle whispered.

“Not a chance,” he agreed, patting her back. “Even if we wanted to, there are too many problems with this treaty as it stands: we’d need to send over a full-fledged diplomatic party to iron out the details to everyone’s satisfaction. Edelgard sent a messenger -- someone who wouldn’t understand the underlying message of the document she was charged with transporting, and who wouldn’t have the authority to make changes even if the problems were pointed out to her.”

“It’s not my fault!” she cried.

His hand tightened comfortingly on her shoulder. “I know. And I’m not blaming you: you were just doing your job; everybody here understands that. We blame Edelgard for this, because what she’s implying by doing this -- sending this treaty, worded and constructed this way, with a courier that has no political authority over the document -- is that she thinks this is reasonable and fair, and wants us to accept it as it is.”

Sniffling thickly, Chelle swiped at her blurry eyes. “Why keep me here so long, then?”

“To give you a break. You deserved a rest, and we needed to get our response ready.”

“I thought you were just going to say ‘no,” she mumbled.

“The message they want to send back is a little more...pointed,” he replied. “...sorry to spoil the party for you.”

“...it’s okay,” she sighed. “I...didn’t know about this. It’s a lot to take in.” He nodded as he rose from his seat, offering a hand to help her up; picking up her cup almost as an afterthought, he made his way back out of the room, closing the doors behind them and starting back the way they’d come. “...that...extradition clause. And how it could ‘theoretically’ be used to arrest anyone. Is...would Tahmina be at risk from it?”

Tariq glanced over at her, quirking one eyebrow. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Because she’s related to the Gonerils?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled. “Almyra’s not perfect. There’s still a lot of anti-Fódlan sentiment around -- there’s a lot of history there, not much of it good -- but I’m doing my best to make it safer here for refugees and asylum seekers. Edelgard’s ‘United Adrestian Empire’ isn’t helping anyone but her, just like her war: lots of big talk, but in the end it’s the common people who end up suffering for her decisions and her actions. Even if it’s something small, in the grand scheme of things...I want to help the people who have been hit hardest by all this. If that means turning down Edelgard’s treaty...well, that’s a small price to pay.”

After spending so much time in the softer lamplight, the bonfires in the plaza nearly blinded her, and she had to rely for a moment on Tariq’s guidance to make sure she didn’t either run into anyone or trip and fall onto a pyre. Once her vision cleared, he offered her cup back, which she took without much interest. “Don’t let it get you too down, alright?” he chuckled, giving her shoulder another pat. “Enjoy the party while it lasts. Give dancing a try -- I’ll show you the trick to it if you want.”

Chelle made a non-committal noise, lifting her drink in a silent parting gesture while he walked off. She caught sight of Tahmina in the crowd, watched her wave and call out to Tariq, and saw him beam and hurry to join her in the circle of dancers, seeming entirely carefree in spite of their grave conversation. How he could bounce back so fast was a mystery to her, like so many other things here in Almyra; she didn’t imagine she’d be in any shape to join the festivities for a while yet.

But, like Tariq had said: it was her last night here. Soon enough she would be going back to the Empire -- back home. And then she could see for herself whether Tariq was right or not about the Empress’ motives.

Downing the rest of her wine, she put her cup aside and waded into the chaos. One dance wouldn’t hurt.

---

Chelle decided it was for the best that she’d stopped at three cups of wine. That had already given her a hangover the likes of which she’d never experienced before, and in the end Tariq (seeming mostly amused by the whole thing) fetched her something to take the edge off her migraine, which at least got her out of bed in time for a light breakfast before she had to leave. Her head was still a little sore and fuzzy by the time she made her way up to the room where the Almyran rulers had met her when she first arrived; they were both standing this time, though, and as Tariq took his place at the king’s side Chelle bowed deeply before them.

“Thank you for having me, Your Majesties,” she said. “It’s been an honor to meet with you, and I’m grateful for your hospitality and your kindness.”

“We are pleased to hear it, and hope that you enjoyed your time here,” the older man nodded. “We have prepared our response to your Empress, and would have you deliver it upon your return.”

She bowed again, unlatching her case and preparing to take the document...though, when she looked again, she realized that his hand was empty. The queen held a box, but its lid was open and Chelle could see that there was nothing in that, either, except for some dried grass lining the bottom…

The king looked past her, gesturing to someone in the doorway. Curious, she turned to see -- and jumped aside as a woman approached, one hand gripping the head of a snake while her other arm supported the rest of its body. “A horned viper,” the man remarked casually, watching the handler maneuver the serpent into the box his wife held (and Chelle caught a glimpse of rough-textured scales, horn-like growths above its slit eyes, and wicked fangs poised to strike in the instant before the lid snapped closed). “They hide in sandy places among the rocks and scrub, and their color and pattern make them quite elusive; it took five days to locate and snare this one. They are also exceptionally deadly: their bite is often fatal, and those that do survive frequently lose the bitten limb.”

She wondered if the king spoke from experience as her gaze flicked unbidden to the empty sleeve pinned at his shoulder.

The queen moved toward her, and it took every ounce of Chelle’s willpower to stand still and let her approach with the snake in its box. “Don’t worry, you’re not in danger,” the woman chuckled. “We made sure to give it a good meal, so it shouldn’t cause trouble for you, and the latch has a safety so it won’t open unless someone is trying to get into it.” She demonstrated without opening the lid (which Chelle was profoundly grateful for), unfolding the double-hinged latch before securing it in place and locking it with a satisfying snap. It didn’t make her feel terribly much better about handling it, though, especially now that she was close enough to see the fine latticework openings in the lid -- a lovely touch of artistry, to be sure, but clearly functional given the contents; thankfully, the queen didn’t seem to mind when Chelle opened her case and invited her to fit the box inside, securing the clasp herself and gingerly settling it against her side.

“When you arrived, you came with a message from your Empress to go with her treaty,” the king mused, stroking his neatly trimmed beard. “We would ask you to deliver words on our behalf, as well.”

“O-of course,” Chelle nodded. “I’ll be sure to relay them -- what is your message, sir?”

A thin smile cut across his face, and a chill crawled down her spine. “This box is much like the treaty your messenger carried to us: carefully crafted of fine materials -- and concealing within something fatal to those who would rush to accept on appearances alone. Yet the viper bites only to hunt or defend itself from harm; your terms stand as proof of how deep your cruelty runs in service to yourself. We received your messenger, and treated her with the honor and hospitality befitting her service, for we in Almyra bear no ill will toward those who bring such words to us: our grudge is with the one who ordered her to speak them.”

Despite how cool the room was, Chelle could feel sweat pouring down her face as she repeated the words back, aware of every stumble and pause but seeming unable to make her tongue behave...though the king still nodded in apparent satisfaction when she finished. “Thank you,” he said, resting his fist over his heart as he bowed. “Should your Empress decide to use a messenger again, rather than speak herself, know you are welcome here.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty, sir,” she replied, tripping over the words as she ducked her head. “A-and thank you again for your hospitality.”

Turning smartly on her heel, she hurried out the door and down the stairs, keeping a tight grip on her case and trying to convince herself that the snake in it was secure, that she wouldn’t get bitten, that she wasn’t going to die on her way back home--

“You okay?”

Chelle almost tripped on the last few stairs; the hand on her elbow thankfully kept her from falling -- but as soon as she found her balance again she yanked her arm away, glaring over her shoulder at Tariq as he held his hands up in a placating gesture. “I’m carrying a fucking viper how am I supposed to be ‘okay’!?”

“...that’s a fair point,” he admitted. “I probably should have warned you about that, huh.”

“You THINK?” she hissed. Hurrying down the last of the stairs, she stormed toward the arch, her thoughts still reeling over everything that had happened in the past few minutes. “A snake! He’s sending a snake back! Who does that!?”

“Almyrans,” Tariq replied almost cheerfully.

“With no antidote!”

“Nope.”

“How is this not seen as murder? Am -- am I party to an assassination attempt?”

“I guess if you don’t warn Edelgard of what it is, then...maybe?”

“Of course I’m going to warn her, what do you take me for!?” Chelle snapped. “A fucking snake, he’s replying with a...a-and he said it took days to track it down? Is that why I was waiting here so long?”

“That...may have been the other part of it, yes,” Tariq admitted.

“That means...they had to have sent people out looking the day I arrived!”

“Technically they sent people out looking as soon as they heard an Imperial messenger was coming. The speech was a nice touch, though, he really outdid himself there--”

“They never intended to consider the treaty?”

“Afraid not. They’ve got some sizeable grievances against the Empress, so I don’t want to say it was a wasted trip, but...yeah, there was never any chance--”

She whirled around, clutching her case tight as though desperate to keep it sealed shut. “How are you so calm about this!?”

“Take a breath, Chelle.” He mimed a few, himself, and she grudgingly followed suit. “This kind of thing might seem crazy--”

“Because it is,” she insisted.

“...but it’s not uncommon in Almyra. Especially to get a message across: sending a snake has a lot of implications.”

“This place is insane.” He’d mentioned anti-Fódlan sentiment, but she never would have expected this.

“Almyrans feel the same way about all the rules you’ve got in Fódlan,” he chuckled. “Call it a cultural difference.”

Stepping out into the sunshine beyond the arch, Chelle threw a hand up to shade her eyes as the dull ache in her head spiked; by the time her vision came back into focus, Tariq had walked past her, and stood waiting in the center of the plaza...beside a white wyvern, its ornamented tack shimmering in the light while the dragon tilted its head into the man’s attention. He grinned at her, gesturing her closer while continuing to scratch the wyvern’s chin with his free hand. “Need a ride back to the Locket? Or, well, the outskirts, at least -- I’d rather not have them raining arrows down on us, if I can help it.”

“Is this your wyvern?” she asked, edging closer.

“She is,” he agreed, rubbing the dragon’s horns while it pressed its head against his chest.

“I’ve...never seen a white one before.” She’d only ever heard of one, in fact, and then only as rumors from those who’d been at Derdriu when the Empress marched to the heart of the Alliance…

“They’re rare,” Tariq confirmed, “and here in Almyra they’re considered good luck. They always end up going to important people because of it: beloved kings, exceptional generals…”

“Then how did an advisor end up with one?” she scoffed.

“Having the king and queen for parents has perks.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it…”

She’d intended to brush off whatever excuse he made, but as the words sank in she trailed off, staring slack-jawed at him while he continued to lavish affection on the white wyvern. “You -- you’re a prince?”

“Technically,” he shrugged.

“The king introduced you as his advisor!”

“Well, right now I am: with things as they are now, I can’t achieve what I want, so I didn’t see a point in challenging him for the throne. My counsel is the most useful thing for Almyra, given the state of things in Fódlan, so...it just seemed like the sensible thing to do.” Slinging his arm over the dragon’s neck, he turned a cheery smile on Chelle, leaning his weight against the wyvern’s side. “So: about that ride.”

“...sure,” she agreed. “Why not?” It would certainly save her time, after all -- and the less time she had to worry about carrying a snake, the better.

#answered #anonymous #fire emblem: three houses #fanfiction #bad end au #snippets #i love outsider perspective okay #chelle is great and very loyal to the empire and empress edelgard #but she has a lot to look out for now on her way back #i'm still so attached to almyrans sending snakes to people they don't like #it's a very clear message that's for sure #also claude remains a treasure #and hilda's going by an almyran name for cover purposes #edelgard has no idea they're still alive #and won't until claude comes knocking in about a decade #boy that'll be an exciting way to realize her mistakes

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cordonian-literature · 3 years

Text

wip wednesday :)

hi y’all so i wasn’t tagged (whoops broke the rules) and it’s still kinda early in the day but i wanted to make this post because i’ve been working on a few other fics and wanted to share :)

i’ve been finishing up Aftermath - the reason it’s taking me so long to post chapters is because i initially had a very sad ending planned. i weeped when i was rereading it because i’ve gotten emotionally attached to the characters (what a surprise) and am now rewriting a happier ending. i think there’s like... 3 chapters left (don’t quote me on that, i’m a mess and it could change, but its unlikely).

there’s also two other fic ideas that i had. the first one kinda throws canon out the window - but there are still some elements, like Bertrand and Savannah’s relationship (though it’s extremely altered), the assassination with Olivia’s parents, Godfrey & Barthelemy’s treason... it’s just changed, like Queen Eleanor’s story is different, Leo doesn’t abdicate, Liam and Drake never really became best friends, and MC (Klara/Claire Brooks) leads a double life, keeping both men (and families) away from each other

the second one throws TRH 3 in the trash (even though it already is kinda trash, haha). this would take place during the last chapter of TRH 2 and throw the whole vote stuff out the window - because the farther we go with that, the less it makes sense. basically, Auvernal kidnaps the heir, Barthelemy is involved in it, and Liam and MC (i’m keeping her as Riley Brooks for this one) along with the gang do everything they can to get her back (obviously why wouldn’t they). i thought it would be interesting putting a part of it in the heir’s point of view, since those were kinda funny in some of the recent chapters. nothing too dark or serious (i mean yeah the heir getting kidnapped is serious, but you know what i mean. besides that, there are no major trigger warnings)

both these fics will most likely flop, but i had fun with these ideas and wanted to share

so here we go

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The Aftermath - Chapter 32

When Bastien enters, his eyes widen as they rest on Boris. He gives Olivia a look.

“Drake,” she tells him, hoping that would be enough of an answer. Bastien frowns. Olivia didn’t know why Drake had done this either. The fool hadn’t given her any information as to what this man had done. Where was she even supposed to start?

Now she was really wishing she had called Jacob to give her a background check.

“So,” she begins, pacing in front of Boris. Bastien was at full attention, closely watching both of them. “What happened between you and Drake?”

Boris spits blood to the opposite side of the room. It drips down the wall. “Call the bastard in here. Tell him to explain.” His accent is thick and his voice is tried.

I probably should, she thinks to herself.

Bastien gives Olivia another look. She nods at him.

“Let us shift the conversation,” Bastien begins. “Can I ask how long you’ve known Lady Riley or her late husband?”

“How is that important?” Boris questions.

“Just curious.” Bastien’s voice remains level.

Boris sighs, then leans back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. “Potter. I met him in college. He introduced me to Riley-”

“I’m sorry,” Bastien interrupts him. “Who is ‘Potter’?”

“The lovely Theodore Blaise.” Boris lets out a rueful chuckle. “You have not seen him in person? The idiot looks like Harry Potter. Stupid glasses, stupid hair.”

“Alright,” Bastien stops him again. “Continue. When did he introduce you to Riley?”

“New York. That one year. I was visiting before I had to go to... Switzerland? Sweden? One of the two. It was lifetime ago. Can’t remember everything.” He pauses to look around the room. “She was... with your King. We saw her in the park. Theo wanted to see her. We waited for the king to leave her before he went up to her hotel.”

Olivia knew that he was talking about the last night Riley had been with the court. But Boris was drawing out the conversation. She didn’t like how slow Bastien was approaching this. Olivia wanted to draw a knife — she had a new one she was itching to use — and force the answers out of him.

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Until the End - Prologue

A/N: also i made a thing for this series. it’s not a moodboard. idk what its called. like a banner or whatever? i felt creative and made it. i’ll probably end up making a moodboard too. there are three parts of the series, each part has seven/eight chapters. anyway this looks kinda wack i might not even use it

As we near the stairs, Olivia Nevrakis chases after Maxwell Beaumont, who tumbles down the steps.

“Why are you running?!” Olivia cries after the boy, a long object in her hand.

“Because you have a stick!” he cries after almost tripping over his short, chubby legs.

“What am I gonna do, hit you with it?”

“YES?!” Maxwell screams, a confused and fearful tone in his voice.

As the two reach the bottom of the stairs, Liam emerges from another corridor, laughing after his friends. His hair is a whorl on his head, and his cheeks are flushed pink.

“Hello, Mother!” he says. My son hugs my waist, then reaches to hug his father, but Constantine has already walked on.

I take the boy’s hand and we follow after the King. Near the entrance of the palace stands a man in guard’s uniform, a woman in a denim dress, and two small children.

“Eleanor, Liam,” Constantine begins. “I would like for you two to be introduced to a new member of our security team. Jackson Walker, his wife Bianca, and their children, Drake and Savannah.”

“A pleasure, Your Majesties,” Jackson says as he and his wife bow respectfully. The little girl blinks up at me while Drake looks between Liam and I.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Liam!” My son holds out his hand to Drake.

Constantine audibly coughs. Liam’s hand falls to his side, and his smile falls as well. I knew that the differences in status would not allow Liam to interact with the boy so improperly, but they are just children. I didn’t think there was a reason for such excessive formality.

Bianca slightly nudges her son. In a monotone voice, Drake greets, “Nice to meet you, Prince Liam.”

Liam’s expression lifts. I send a smile in Bianca’s direction, and she hesitantly returns it. Jackson holds eye contact with me a moment longer, a wide grin stretching his face.

Constantine grabs our attention again. “Jackson, you will be primarily working on my wife’s security team. Now if you’ll excuse us, we are expected at dinner. My head of security, Bastien, will lead you through the rest of your orientation. After dinner, you’ll be able to speak to my wife and receive any orders she has for you.”

“Yes, Sire,” Jackson bows his head again, and Constantine leads us away.

Godfrey and his family, along with the Beaumonts, Olivia, and Leo are already seated. They all stand quickly as Constantine comes into the room, giving polite bows.

The moment we sit, there’s a flurry of activity as the servants set our plates in front of us. Adelaide sips on her wine absently. Annabelle fusses over Maxwell, who has cookie crumbs on his fingers and face. Madeleine attempts to get Leo’s attention, but he laughs with Bertrand, the boys giving each other impish smiles. Olivia converses with Liam, taking on a gentle demeanor compared to how she behaved with Maxwell.

“Hostilities between Monterisso and Auvernal are increasing by the day,” I hear Godfrey mention to Constantine.

“The whole of Europe expects them to break out in war,” Barthelemy adds.

“Monterissian and Auvernese citizens anticipate some sort of peace treaty,” Godfrey continues. The men speak as if they are one unit, with one mind. “But other nations have already begun taking sides.”

“The King of Hidar is siding with Monterisso.” Barthelemy motions for a servant to bring him more wine. “But there are rumors that he is only doing so after receiving threats.”

“Most nations are waiting for Cordonia and Monaco for their decisions for who to ally with.”

When Barthelemy and Godfrey finish filling Constantine’s ears, they return to the food on their plates, staring down as if nothing else in the world concerned them. Constantine chews slowly, visibly considering their words.

“Monterisso has always kept a neutral face when it comes to Cordonian issues,” the King mentions. “They have never asked or hinted towards alliance. They are not many nations who ally with them at all.”

“So you must admit,” Barthelemy finishes chewing, “that allying with them instead of Auvernal makes a bad impression—”

“—and reduces the chance of alliances with other nations,” Godfrey finishes with him.

“How so?” I speak up. The three men turn their heads to look at me. No one else at the table pays attention to the conversation, but as their eyes burn in my direction — aggressive looks from the Dukes, while my husband raises an eyebrow at me — I want to take back my words.

But I do no such thing. After more than seven years of marriage, I had become accustomed to Godfrey and Barthelmey shutting down the advice I gave to my husband. This instance is no different.

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The Lion and the Heir - short series - Prologue

A/N: just as a heads up, i laughed while writing this. like i wrote this just for a good laugh and wanted to share. my friend sent me a writing prompt about a kid’s wild imagination and she thought it was funny and sent it to me (i sent her this same passage and we both laughed our heads off reading parts of it) so what i’m trying to say is that thinking this is terrible and cringe-worthy is understandable - i cringed at this myself and am very scared to post this lol, and might not even continue it. yes i made a moodboard thing. yes i laughed while making it. goodbye.

"Is everything well, Mommy?" I ask. Instead of answering me, again she attempts to silence me! I repeat my question, but this time the man tells me to silent myself.

Did they not know who they were speaking to? Perhaps I was interrupting something. Was there a lesson to be learned somewhere in this? I wish that Daddy were present at this meeting. Though most of his explanations were gibberish, he would at least attempt to make me understand.

The man walks towards me. He reaches his hands out to carry me, but I do not know this man! And he was quite stinky! I do not like him. I smack his hands away, and he takes a step back.

"With all due respect," I try to explain to him, "please introduce yourself before any forward actions. They are most unwelcoming. Your Princess does not appreciate this behavior."

He turns to my suspicious mother and says something in gibberish. I frown, for the language barrier does not mean that my subjects may disobey my wishes in such a manner!

Suspicious Mommy takes off the shield that was over her eyes. I find that it is NOT Mommy! Though they look similar, their differences are too contrasting. This woman's eyes were a tad sharper. She was too aware of me, and did not seem comfortable in my presence.

"Shhh sh shhh," she goes again, trying to pick me up, but I allow my short legs to fall from under me. My behind hits the mattress, and I feel my friend, General Lion, against my hand.

"Is everything well, Your Highness?" my trusty General says to me. "Is there anything I can do to be of service?"

"Dismiss this woman from my presence!" I command him.

"But... but that is Mommy!" he cries.

This woman was good in her disguise. She had fooled my trusted advisor!

"Believe me, General, it is not!" I tell him. "She has fooled us!"

"And she is trying to take you away?" he observes.

"Yes!" I am suddenly aware of what is happening. The woman begins to reach for me. "Quick!" I say, panic swelling in my chest. I had to do something about this, but all my heart is telling me to do is cry! I have to take more serious measures than that! "What am I to do?"

"Uh... uh..." General Lion looks around the crib, before he reaches out to me. "Take a hold of my paw!"

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putting my Aftermath taglist because that’s the only one i have :) - y’all can see what’s happening in the next chapter & these other fics. if you’re interested in any (besides Aftermath) let me know! if you don’t interact or anything, i’ll leave you on the Aftermath taglist and won’t remove or add you anywhere :)

(also, people probably know this but just a gentle reminder, the only reason i don’t reply to comments is because this is a sideblog. i see them all though, so don’t worry. i just don’t want to confuse people by replying from my main blog or anything :) anyway let me stop trailing off)

@captain-kingliamsqueen @gkittylove99 @lovablegranny @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @mom2000aggie @kingliam2019 @queenrileyrose @shanzay44 @cordonianroyalty @hopefulmoonobject @hopelessromanticmonie @twinkle-320 @amandablink @texaskitten30 @pens-girl-87 @ladyangel70 @sanchita012 @cordonianprincess @cordonia-gothqueen @pink-diamond13 @queenwalton @yourmajesty09 @alj4890 @choicesbutterfly

^if anyone from this list wants to do the WIP Wednesday thing, feel free!!

#trr fanfic #wips

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