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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

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Maybe in Another Life - Dean x fem!reader part 4

In this universe, Chuck had won, Dean, Sam, and (Y/N) were the only ones left. They must find another reality to live so they can find a way to bring back their own. But after getting separated, (Y/N) must find her Dean while working with this universe’s hunters.

Also Season 15 spoilers

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2005

(Y/N) was a young hunter down on her luck. She was on her last twenty bucks and her last tank of gas. She wanted to get this hunt done so she could go down to Vegas to hustle a couple old men out of a couple hundred bucks. Selling pictures of her body wasn’t honest work, but it was work.

For right now, hunting was more of a duty than a pay bill, her parents had been killed by a vampire clan with (Y/N) narrowly escaping. So when she heard that the vampires who killed her parents were back in town, she wanted revenge. The only problem was that she had to team up with John Winchester. The guy was a complete hardass, military-like instructions. He had little to no respect for anyone, including his own kid.

After the hunt and telling Mr. Winchester the place on her body that he could place his dusty, crusty lips on, she was walking back to her car or as she liked to call it, the mansion. Behind her, she could hear a car pull up and John Winchester saying he would be back soon. She looked over her shoulder, seeing John getting in a car and his son, Dean watching the car leave.

His eyes then landed on her. Dean started jogging towards her car. This outta be good. The guy was a flirt... A good flirt, but a flirt nonetheless. But something told her that behind shell was a heart of gold and so much trauma, it reminded her a lot of herself. Alone in a dark world that kept getting darker.

“What’s wrong? Daddy dearest kick you out?” She asked as she opened the door and threw her bag into the passenger seat.

“Uh no, he went out on his own for a hunt.” He looked at the ground awkwardly, “I wanna apologize about him. He’s kind of-”

“An asshole?” She finished the sentence.

Dean slipped his hands into his pockets, “I was gonna say rough around the edges.”

“If by rough you mean sandpaper.” She looked at him, “Sure.”

Dean smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling, “I guess. Uh, where you headed?”

She sighed and looked at him, “I dunno. Wherever I can earn my next dollar.” She got into her car and closed the door, turning the key. And turning the key. The key, turning. Car not starting.

“Son of a bitch!” She slammed her hand against the wheel. Dean gave her a innocent looked, leaning down into her window.

“Did you know this model is notorious for just not working?”

She looked back at him, “I am well aware.” She rested her head against the steering wheel, “It was all I could afford at the time. And now I’m screwed.”

“Well...” He opened her door, “You could hitch a ride with me.” She turned her head, narrowing her eyes at him.

“What’s the catch? Because this.” She motioned to her body, “Aint free.”

Dean backed off quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “Woah woah, sweetheart. I ain’t that kinda guy. Not that you’re not...” He looked her up in down, “Incredibly beautiful. But I feel like you deserve it after my dad said what he said.”

“You mean when he told me that the reason the vampires killed my parents was because I wasn’t strong enough at the ripe age of ten?” She got out of the car, grabbing her bag.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He smirked, “I also wanted to apologize for that over a slice of pie at that diner we passed on the way into town.” She hummed, tapping her chin as she walked to the back of her car, hitting it just right so that the trunk opened.

“I don’t have any money.” She said, “So I can’t pay you back until later.”

“I don’t have money either.” He shrugged, reaching into the trunk and grabbing a suitcase of all her worldly possessions, “I’m just really good at shooting pool.”

“Hey dad, it’s Dean again... Why aren’t you answering your phone? And what the hell was that voicemail you left me?” (Y/N) watched Dean grip onto the payphone tightly. They were sitting outside an apartment near Stanford university where Dean was going to talk his brother into trying to find their dad on a hunt that he hadn’t come back and hadn’t answered his phone. In the days since Dean and (Y/N) had been driving, they had actually gotten to know each other very well, they were becoming close friends.

After the line went dead, Dean got back into the Impala and cursed, gripping onto the steering wheel.

“Look, you don’t have to be apart of this if you don’t want to.” Dean looked at (Y/N).

She shook her head, “You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Dean-Bean.” She reached into her bag of cherry twizzlers, taking a bite, “Plus.” She said around the candy, “He may be an asshole, but he probably needs help.”

Dean chuckled, leaning over and taking a bite of the twizzler in her hand, “I appreciate it, sweetheart.” He winked.

“Awh.” She pouted dramatically, “I don’t get a fun nickname?”

“How about snookums?”

“Oh absolutely not.” She laughed.

“Honeybunches?”

“No.”

“Sugar booger?”

“The Spanish word for no is no.”

Dean shook his head, “Alright, alright. How about sweetheart when you’re sweet, and sweet-tart when you’re a little crabby?”

“I do not get crabby.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Really?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes, reaching down on the floor of the car in front of her and pulling a burger out of the bag, “Shut up and eat.”

2006

After the semi truck crashed into them, John, Sam, and (Y/N) were left with minor injuries while Dean was left in critical condition. He was in a coma, hooked up to a wall of machinery and a breathing tube in his throat.

(Y/N) had been confined to her room with a broken ankle, kept in touch by Sam who would come in to explain what was happening. Dean was in the space between life and death and John was going to summon the demon he had been searching for to get revenge against him for... well, for everything.

As she lay in her bed, tears in her eyes, she spoke to no one, but hoped he was listening.

“I don’t know if you’re hear right now, Dean. But...” She inhaled deeply, “But I want you to know that I love you.” She chuckled, “And I know you’re probably thinking that I’m only saying this because you’re having your out of body experience moment and you could die. The reality is that I love you. You put up that flirty, whore persona, but I know who you really are. Those nights when we’re alone and we talk about our lives together and depression backstories. I’ve never trusted anyone more. And I love you. So...” She looked around, “So please, don’t die on me. I don’t know if I can do this without you.”

Finally, (Y/N) had managed to get into a wheel chair in the night, the night that Dean woke up. The night John died in the basement of the hospital, giving his life for Dean’s.

Sam was passed out asleep in a chair next to Dean’s bed while Dean was wide awake, staring out the window.

“Hey...” She said softly, rolling up to the side of his bed. He glanced at her, a small smile pulled at his lips.

“How’s it goin’, hot wheels?”

She sighed, “You were literally in limbo this morning, but now we’re laughs?”

“Gotta get through the pain somehow.” He looked back towards the window. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a slight squeeze.

“I’m sorry about your dad.” She said, “My last words weren’t kind to him. If I would have known...”

Dean shook his head, “Nah, you had every right to talk to him like that. Especially after the last few days.” He looked down at her, “I heard you by the way.”

Her eyes widened, “No, you didn’t.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“No, no, you didn’t.”

“You called me a whore.” He spoke in a hushed voice, taking a small glance at Sam before looking back at (Y/N).

“Well, you are.” She shrugged, “Kinda.”

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Look... My point is... The feelings are mutual.” Her eyes widened.

“I was on death’s door, I’m not gonna deny what I’m feeling anymore.” He brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on her knuckles, “I love you.”

As they started searching around the town, Sam was finally able to get ahold of Dean.

“Dean? Dean, is everything alright?” Sam asked into the phone. Jack and (Y/N) head’s snapped back towards Sam on the phone. Her heart felt a little less heavy then. Dean was alive and that meant she hadn’t lost everything.

“Okay, we’re in downtown Hastings, we really need to plan out our next move.” Sam said. After a moment, Sam looked up at her, “Yeah, she’s still here.”

That was the other thing that made her heart feel heavy, call it survivors guilt. She came from a dead universe, just like all those hunters had, and she was still there.

It was scary being on an empty planet. You never realize how much noise the world made until the world had gone silent. Everyone in Hastings was gone. Everyone in Minnesota was gone. The whole world. They were all that was left. They made to an intersection on an empty street. Cars stopped or crashed where they were last operated. The soft puttering of the Impala made them pause. Dean parked it on the street corner, getting out and looking around the abandoned town.

Dean walked over to the group, closest to (Y/N), reaching down and holding her hand. She welcomed this touch, knowing it well. He was devastated, he needed something to ground to the world. He was shaking slightly, not enough to be detected by the human eye.

“Everyone's gone.” Sam said, “You see anybody on the way here?”

“No.” Dean answered, sounding like he didn’t believe it himself.

“I couldn't save anybody. Billie-”

“It wasn't Billie. It was Chuck.” Dean said.

“What?” Sam and (Y/N) asked together.

“Where's Cas?” Jack asked. It was only then that she realized that Cas was no where to be found. And when Jack said his name, Dean’s hand clenched down on hers.

“Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly.

Dean looked everywhere but the Nephilim, “He saved me. Billie was coming after us, and Cas summoned the Empty. It took her. And it took him. Cas is gone.” Jack looked like his whole world had fallen apart, and it had. His father was gone.

“This can't be happening.” Sam shook his head. Maybe in a state of shock.

“It is, Sam. I think everyone's gone.” Sam shook his head, bringing his phone out and making a call.

Dean dropped her hand, walking to the young boy, “Jack, I'm sorry.” (Y/N) stayed in his position in the street, looking around.

This was impossible. They had no option. No plan. It all seemed so hopeless. Maybe she couldn’t save them... She couldn’t save this world. How could she save a world that was already gone?

They made their way to a diner in town and made their way inside to regroup. The diner looked like everyone had dropped what they were doing - eating- and disappeared. Food was still on the table, the fryer was still crackling in the kitchen. On the television was what was supposed to be a football game, but all the screen showed was an empty stadium and an empty field.

“Hey,” Dean motioned to the TV, “It brings a whole new meaning to the term "sudden death." He turned the bar’s tap off so the stream of beer coming from the stout ceased.

“Do you think we're it?” Sam asked, “All that's left?”

Dean chuckled darkly, “Yeah. You, me, her, Jack.” He looked out to the window where Jack was sitting on a large cement planter. He asked for space to come to terms with the fact that Castiel was gone. He needed it. Honestly, they all needed it. She had lost Cas before, but losing him again was twice as hard. Dean had poured himself a pint. Alcohol had always been his vice.

Soon enough though, Jack made his way inside, staring at the hunters, “Hey. So, um, what now?”

“I did this.” Sam spoke up, “We could have just given Chuck what he wanted, you know, his grand finale. But I resisted. I pulled the thread. I thought we could beat this game, do it better. We tried to rewrite him, and the whole world paid the price.” Sam looked at (Y/N), “I’m sorry. But you’re mission to save us... I ruined it.”

“Sam, we can-”

“We can what?” Sam interrupted his brother, “There's nothing left, Dean. No one left to save. Everybody's gone.”

“You can't just give up.” Jack spoke up.

“What other choice do we have?” Sam snapped back.

Sam and Dean decided to hash it out with Chuck, agree to his ending of brother against brother. If it meant that they could get things back to the way it was, maybe they could try something new. They had dropped (Y/N) and Jack off at the bunker before leaving.

The two were left at the bunker, hoping the plan would work, but frankly their nerves were shot that hope seemed like a fever dream. (Y/N) had made food but both of them were too emotionally devastated to really eat.

As (Y/N) was cleaning up dishes, Jack walked into the kitchen silently.

“(Y/N)?” He asked.

She turned and gave him a soft smile, “Yeah?”

Jack came around, grabbing a dish towel and slowly drying off a bowl, “I was just wondering what I was like in your world.”

She hummed, “You’re pretty much the same. I think you ate a little more nougat though.”��

“I feel like I was happier.” He said, drying a cup.

“Why’s that?”

Jack paused his drying and looked up at her, “Because I would have had you since the beginning. You have been so kind and warm to me. Even after all the things I’ve done.”

She looked at him, handing him a plate, “Jack-a-bug, you have powers that angels have had millennia to master.” She looked at him, “You’re still learning. When you’re learning sometimes you do things you didn’t mean to and you feel awful. But for how long you’ve been with us, with how much you’ve learned, I think you’re doing great.”

Jack nodded and then looked at her with a head tilt that reminded her so much of her friend in the trench coat, “Jack-a-bug?” He asked.

She let out a small laugh, “Oh yeah.” She shook her head, “That’s what I called my Jack. I had a lot of nicknames for you. Sweet boy, Dean two, Jack-a-bug. I’m pretty sure he hated it though.”

“No.” He said, “I like them. They make me feel... Special.”

She smiled, cupping his cheek, “That’s because you are. Not because you’re a Nephilim. Because you’re ours.” He smiled weakly, then excused himself to bed.

(Y/N) was sitting at the world map table, waiting for the brothers to get home. When they did, she stood up from the table, look expectantly. Sam only shook his head and went straight to his room. Dean however stood in the entrance of the room.

“What’d he say?” She asked. She had an idea of the answer, but she needed to hear it.

“Uh, he wants us to rot here.” He said casually. He walked into the room, cupping her cheeks in his hands, “So what do you say me and you play catch-up over some whiskey?”

“Dean-” She said, holding his wrists to take them off her cheeks.

“Sweet-tart.” He sighed, looking down at her, “There’s nothing we can do right now. Or maybe at all. Please.” He rested his forehead on hers, “Can we please just... Let’s just have tonight. No universe difference, no your Dean my (Y/N). Just be mine for tonight.”

“Okay.” She said softly, giving his hands a squeeze, “But if you call me sweet-tart again, I’m gonna drink your good whiskey that you hide in garage.”

He narrowed his eyes, a sly smile on his face, “How do you know where I hid that?"

She hummed and leaned up, rubbing her nose on his, "Who do you think put it there in the first place."

He chuckled, dropping his hands from her face to her hands, pulling her towards the garage.

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dulce-pjm · 3 years

Note

hmm for the mix and match drabbles how about established relationship + prompt 19!!! OR bakery/flower shop/bookstore au + prompt 6!!! you can pick!!!

hmm i see your options and i raise you this: why not all?

lol an epic crossover of prompts: au #3 - established relationship!au, au #2 - bakery/flower shop/bookstore!au, prompt #19 - “No, I have a [girlfriend/boyfriend].” “That’s me! How much did you drink?”, and prompt #6 - “One more kiss.”

make your own request here using these prompts!

bakin’ me crazy

jimin x reader

word count: 3.4k

genre: fluffy fluff fluff, established relationship!au, bakery!au

summary: despite having one disaster on top of the other and then some, you can’t help but feel better when he’s around

a/n: apologies in advance. i think we’re all learning that i’m a pun-lover and that probably won’t change

It’s everywhere.

There’s sugar in your hair and lashes, coating your cheeks and sweater, even under your nails and somehow you swear you feel it between your toes.

It’s been a long day. Up at the crack of dawn to open up shop, meeting with customers until noon, and now you’d found yourself baking way past your bedtime to keep up with all the orders. There’s nothing you’d like more than to eat your weight in cupcakes and enter the subsequent sugar coma on your couch, never to be disturbed again.

But just as you’d pulled that last batch of cupcakes out of the oven, just as you’d started whipping up a fresh batch of icing, disaster struck.

You should have known better, should have thought to check. Sunny was frantic yesterday as she rushed out the door, completing her tasks as quickly as she could so as not to leave too much work for you but still be present for the birth of her child who was not supposed to be due for three more weeks. You’d tried to calm her down, tell her to go home already, but you eventually learned that pre-parental panic is just as bad in real life as it is in the Sims4 and let her do what she needed to relieve stress.

Which included restocking the powdered sugar.

And in her tizzy, Sunny hadn’t noticed that this bag, the very one she placed on the edge of the shelf, had a hole in it. And you, in your own tizzy of work and stress, hadn’t noticed how it began to slump over, dangerously close to falling. You hadn’t noticed the impending explosion of powdered sugar until it had detonated on top of your head.

No part of the kitchen seemed to be spared. While you were sputtering and stumbling backwards, wielding your spatula like a weapon as if it could help you, the fine powder coated all of your fresh cupcakes (which were still hot. and thus now had a weird film of dissolved powdered sugar on top), fell onto the clean dishes drying by the sink.

When the dust settles, you think about crying. Seriously consider it. After the past day and a half, you definitely deserve it.

Why couldn’t one thing go right today? And now you’ll have to stay even later just to clean things up and check to see if the cupcakes are salvageable. You’re tired and you’re hungry and you really just need a hug. Is that too much to ask for?

And suddenly the tears are pricking at your eyes and you’re sniffling and hiccuping and still covered in sugar. You feel pathetic and exhausted and miserable, the terrible feeling welling in your chest with every passing moment.

The front door of the shop swings open, the bell attached to it ringing sharply. Who the hell comes into a bakery at this late? And what the hell did you think you were doing, not locking the door earlier?

“We’re closed!” you manage, voice choked as you scramble to your feet, slightly nervous at the sudden intrusion.

“It’s me, Y/N!” You recognize Taehyung’s voice instantly, though it doesn’t stop you from being confused. “Sorry for stopping by so late, I have Chim with me and he wouldn’t quit asking for you and I saw the lights on— What the hell happened to you?”

You’ve fully collected yourself, walking out of the kitchen and into the lobby to find your boyfriend of a few months with his arm wrapped around your friend of many years, staring at the floor and giggling to himself. You’re still a bit flustered, inexplicably covered in powdered sugar and very confused by the sight in front of you.

“Uh, long story?” you manage. “Well, not really. Just a freak accident in the kitchen.” You approach the two of them tentatively. “Is Jimin okay?”

At the call of his name, he lifts his head and smiles rather stupidly when he sees you. In an instant, he parts himself from Taehyung and stumbles over to you, nearly crashing into a cake display in the process.

“Y/N!” He wraps his arms around your waist, digging his nose into your neck and shoulder, no doubt covering his blonde strands in sugar as he nearly squeezes the air out of your lungs.

“‘Missed you,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your sweater.

Taehyung shakes his head, running a hand through his dark hair. “He about drank his own weight tonight at the bar, that’s all. Let Jungkook talk him into doing shots and well...” You nod knowingly, rubbing your palm up and down Jimin’s back. “He gave me a lot of trouble on the way here, he wouldn’t let up until we came to check on you.”

You laugh when Jimin squeezes you tighter, peppering kisses at the most ticklish spots on your neck. You’re surprised he’s not more talkative, normally babbling on about any and everything he can think of when he’s had enough to drink.

“You get any good videos of them acting stupid?” Taehyung chuckles, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“I’ll send them to you now. Jungkook was flirting with a pole for at least ten minutes before he realized.” You snort and Jimin smiles into your sweater, nearly pressing his entire body weight onto you and sending the both of you toppling.

You know Taehyung’s tired, try as he might to hide it. You’ve always appreciated how attentive he was of your boyfriend when you couldn’t be. Their shared apartment is on the other side of town, which means either they were drinking nearby (unlikely, you all hated the bars around here) or Jimin had begged to come see you so much that Taehyung finally caved, despite his exhaustion.

“You can leave him here, if you want. I’ll let him sleep on the couch.” Taehyung’s eyes go wide while Jimin is still blissfully unaware of what’s going on around him, snuggling into you like you’re his childhood stuffed animal.

“No, no, you don’t have to do that. You’re clearly all tied up here—”

“It’s okay, Tae,” you insist, smiling warmly. “Go home and rest, I’ll take care of him from here.” There’s a moment where Taehyung opens his mouth to argue, but he closes it, seeing your expression.

He sighs. “Alright, it’s your funeral,” he jokes. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“No problem.”

The bells tingle again as Taehyung leaves, bracing himself against the night air.

“Alright, sleepyhead,” you tease, ruffling Jimin’s hair. “You’re gonna have to let go of me a minute so I can clean up.”

You shuffle backwards in spite of his grumbling protests, dragging a chair into the kitchen for him to sit on. You peel him off of you while he’s spouting incoherent sentences, gently guiding him into the chair.

It’s difficult to resist him when he gives you those puppy dog eyes and that pout like he’s going to cry if you don’t pull him into your arms again, but you remain stern, though smiling slightly at this face and clothes that have also become victim to the powdered sugar explosion, via his contact with you.

He giggles upon fulling taking you in.

“You look like you got snowed on,” he says, propping his chin in his hand to keep it from bobbing too much. You shake your head, a cloud of white dust falling off of you when you do. “What happened?”

“You don’t look much better, love bug. And it’s sugar.” His brows furrow in confusion before he licks his lips, smile widening at the taste. “I’ll just clean it up and then we can go home, m’kay?”

“You should let me kiss it off for you.”

You laugh, reaching for the broom while he watches you sleepily. “We’d be here all night.”

“I don’t mind,” he calls back in a sing-song voice, seeming more awake than before, or at least, more talkative.

You get to work sweeping up the sugar, deciding to put the forgotten cupcakes in the fridge and worry about them in the morning. You’ve too soon forgotten that you were sobbing and contemplating staying here all night to finish this order a few minutes ago, Jimin’s presence, albeit pretty drunk, helping you think a bit more sensibly.

“Did you have a good time?”

“Uh-huh! Had sooooo much fun.” You sneak a glance at him, smiling softly at how his cheek is squished against his palm and his head is bobbing slightly. He starts mumbling something again and you can only catch a few words.

“What was that?” He sighs as you dump some powdered sugar in the trash, grinning at him sweetly.

“I said you’re pretty, dummy.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly as he shakes his head to himself. “Always making me repeat myself when I compliment you.” He juts out his index finger in your direction as his words slur together. “I know your dirty tricks.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing, deciding to tease him further. “Still can’t understand you, love.”

He cries out in frustration, throwing his arms out dramatically. “You’re hot! Is that what you wanna hear?” Now you can’t help but giggle at his pouting, always so easily riled up both sober and intoxicated.

You kiss him on the top of his head as you pass by, putting away a few stray dishes. “You aren’t too bad yourself.” At that, he huffs, making a point not to look your way and give you the cold shoulder.

You still have a few things left to tidy up and Jimin doesn’t question you further while you do them. It isn’t until you hear him snoring quietly as you wipe down the counters that you realize he’s nodded off, neck bent dangerously as his head leans against the kitchen wall. You cover your mouth to keep from laughing at his slack-jawed expression, approaching him quietly and snapping a quick picture. You immediately make it your new lockscreen, just to tease him in the morning.

You remember the first time you met him, when Taehyung invited you to go get drinks along with the rest of your friends. The shop had been a mess and so were you, so Taehyung picked you up from work as soon as you were done as to keep you from just going home and sleeping. You’d slid into the backseat happily, Jungkook in shotgun and Jimin beside you.

You hadn’t given him many glances, just polite greetings and small talk, not until he quietly informed you that you had hot pink frosting on your forehead and nose and you were thoroughly embarrassed. Luckily, one thing led to another and the minute you had any alcohol in your system, you were pressed against his side, rambling about the cupcake business and your passion for baking. His giggle was more intoxicating than the drinks and you found yourself unable to part from him.

At the end of the night, you asked him to go on a date then and there, like a drunk idiot. And he said yes, also like a drunk idiot.

Neither of you made it two steps before you were passed out in the back of Taehyung’s car, your head on his shoulder and his lying on top of yours.

The next day, you swore you’d never drink again and hoped and prayed Jimin had forgotten the entire incident. But fate is both cruel and caring, and you’d picked up your phone a few hours into your workday to see a text from Jimin, inquiring about the promised date.

There’s still things to do and you definitely aren’t fully cleaned up, but you make the executive decision for yourself and Jimin to just go home before it’s past midnight and you’re really miserable.

You remove your apron, tossing it in its designated bin at the back of shop, grabbing a bottle of water for Jimin and a defected cupcake (i.e. you knew you loved this flavor and purposely messed up the decoration so you could sneak it later) for yourself. Your boyfriend is still snoring quietly, head jerking painfully every few minutes as his hand struggles to it upright. You gently shake at this shoulders, keeping your voice low as to not startle him too much.

“Hey, love bug,” you murmur. “Let’s go home, okay? Get you to bed.” He whines in his sleep, pulling away from you.

“I can’t,” he mumbles. You laugh at his dramatics, grabbing his elbows as you try to coax him to his feet.

“You can, promise. My apartment is just upstairs, remember?” It’d been nothing short of a coincidence that the space Sunny found for the business lied right underneath your apartment, but in times like these, it was definitely a blessing.

He wags his finger in your face, his eyes barely opened. “Nuh-uh. No, I have a girlfriend.” You scoff incredulously, crossing your arms.

“That’s me! How much did you drink?” His eyes open fully and he smiles sheepishly at his mistake.

“Oh. Oops?” You roll your eyes, pulling him to his feet unceremoniously and shoving the water bottle in one hand, guiding the other around your shoulder.

“I barely drank anything, really,” he insists as you lock the doors and turn off the lights.

“Mhmm.”

“Like— Two sips!” he says, holding up three fingers.

“I believe you,” you lie. “Now drink some water.” He complies, though his eyes lie on the chocolate cupcake you’re taking a bite out of. You catch him staring quickly as you round the corner of the building, entering the hallway that leads to the stairs. You’d take the elevator, but you worry that if you don’t keep him moving, he’ll fall asleep where he stands, so you suck it up and prepare to climb three flights.

Before he even has to ask, you stick the cupcake in his face and he smiles, licking a big chunk of the frosting right off the top.

“Jimin!” you cry, yanking the cupcake back. “You know I hate when you do that! Enjoy the cupcake as it is or just ask me for some frosting.” He doesn’t seem the least bit guilty as you glare at him, pretending the leftover frosting on the corner of his cheek isn’t both tempting and adorable.

“But I loooove the frosting!” he argues. “You know what else I love?” You already know what he’s going to say, he’d blurted out the “L word” on your two month anniversary, totally on accident. Luckily, the feelings were mutual.

“Me?” He scrunches his nose.

“What? No.” You gasp, offended. “I mean, yes, you know I do, but I wasn’t talking about that. I love the name of your shop.”

You blink at him twice. “You like ‘Bakin’ Me Crazy’?” You huff. “That was the biggest mistake of my life.” Now it’s his turn to be offended, stopping in his tracks and nearly sending you both falling back down the stairs. “Jimin—!”

“It’s an amazing name, Y/N!” he exclaims, brown eyes wide and earnest. “It’s cute.”

Hmmph. “If you say so, weirdo.”

“Cute like you,” he sings, loud enough to wake the entire building.

“Stop complimenting me. I’m still mad at you.” You shove the last bit of cupcake in your mouth, wiping the crumbs from your mouth with your thumb. He giggles, leaning closer to you.

“I like you so much, did you know that?”

“I did.”

“I’d really like you if you gave me a piggyback ride, though.” You scoff.

“You’re such a tease! You always lay it on thick when you want something.” You remember his words from earlier, wagging your finger in his face to copy him. “I know your dirty tricks.”

He sighs, acting extra tired as if to emphasize how deserving he is of a piggyback ride from you. You’d consider giving it to him, if you thought you were physically capable and you weren’t on a stairwell.

He takes another sip of water as he pouts. “Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“No.”

“And whipped cream?” A laugh slips through your lips, all too soft for him when he’s acting cute like this.

“What are you even talking about?” you giggle, unlocking the door to your apartment which is thankfully not far from the stairwell. “Just keep drinking that water. You’re gonna be so embarrassed in the morning.” You guide him to the side of the bed next to your dresser, helping him sit down.

He makes grabby hands at you as you fish through your drawers for pajamas, muttering something about you abandoning him.

You hold up a pair of bright orange fleece pants decorated with penguins. “You like these? All my sweats are in the wash.” You toss them into his lap when he nods happily. “Do you need help?” He yawns and blinks hard and you smile in satisfaction, seeing that his water bottle is half empty and he’s ever so slightly more sober.

“I got it,” he says. You go into the bathroom, washing your face and changing into your own kiddish pajamas. When you come back into the bedroom, Jimin’s already tucked in with the covers pulled to his chin.

You cross your arms. “I don’t remember inviting you into my bed, mister.” He smiles at you as you slide in next to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. You’d had every intention of sending him to the couch out of fear that he’d puke on your sheets, but you reason that you’d be cold without him and you’d rather be close by if he did get sick.

You dust the last of the powdered sugar off of his nose and brows, pressing your cheek into his chest, exhaustion already overcoming you. Underneath the alcohol, you can still smell the comforting scent of his vanilla lotion, lulling you to sleep.

“Don’t fall asleep yet!” he suddenly exclaims, pushing you a few inches away. You groan, propping yourself on your elbow and wondering how the hell he’s still awake and bothering you.

“What is it?” You blink a few times as he smiles cheekily.

“One more kiss.” You scoff. “You still have sugar on your face. On your lips, actually. So I should get it for you.”

You’re scoffing but oblige, smiling into the kiss as he slots his plush lips against yours, knowing very well you scrubbed the last of the sugar off your face moments ago.

You wake up to your phone ringing rather rudely. You sigh, peeling yourself away from Jimin and laughing at his bedhead and the displeased expression he makes in his sleep, his face swollen and eyes shut tightly.

“Hello?” you whisper, pulling yourself into a sitting position.

“Hey, Y/N!” Once you register her voice, you can barely contain your excitement, bouncing on the bed once before reminding yourself that Jimin’s still asleep.

“Sunny!” you whisper-yell. “How’s Jisoo and the baby? You a mom yet?” Your business partner laughs on the other end of the phone.

“Oh, she’s fine. Just tired. The baby was born a few hours ago, but we’re still deciding on a name for her.” You grin. “So yeah, I’m a mom and you can be her unofficial auntie.”

“You’re gonna name her after me, right?”

Sunny giggles tiredly on the other end of the phone. “I’ll add it to the list, don’t worry.” You’re about to tell her to go get some rest, but she interrupts you before you can.

“Speaking of names! I got in contact with that guy about changing our sign so we can finally choose a different name for the business. You’re still serious about that, right?”

You glance at Jimin, his cheek squished against the pillow and lips puckered. You run your fingers through his blonde hair and he sighs contentedly.

“Maybe we should leave it, for now.”

“What? But you said—”

“I know, I know. Let’s talk about it another time. Go get some sleep!”

The two of you exchange a few more words of endearment and congratulations before you hang up, noting the sunlight cracking through your blinds.

You know you need to get up soon. There’s still cupcakes to bake and customers to deal with and a temporary replacement for Sunny to find.

But for a moment, you self-indulge, curling up next to Jimin, letting him wrap his arms around you and warm you back up. He digs his nose into your shoulder as you press a quick kiss onto his forehead, closing your eyes and drifitng back to sleep, feeling weightless as he holds you.

#dulce-pjm: request #stayjimin #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts scenario #jimin scenairo #jimin fluff #jimin fanfic #bakery au #hehe i love puns !!#but just for fics and fic titles #if you say a pun to me irl i'll probably groan #if it's good though?#you have my entire heart #you decide if it's worth the risk lmao

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marycecilyy · 3 years

Note

Do you think you could write some EricxCandy smut? 👀

omg omg omg sorry for the time I took to finish this. I’m so proud of the result, tho! I hope you enjoy this! Btw, i didn’t proofread the end, please forgive any mistakes.

This fic is a slight AU. Everything is the same, but candy is single.

Warning: NSFW ahead!

-x-

“Need some help carrying those chairs?”

Candy didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. Who else would show up at the café at closing time to offer help (and maybe a last cup of coffee)? She smiled and looked at the inspector over her shoulder.

It was a cold night and he wore his usual clothes. She’d find strange the fact that he wasn’t freezing with just that coat on, but it was well known that that man was never cold. After all, with the amount of hot coffee he drank everyday…

“I guess I could use some company... If you want to, you can take those inside” She used her chin to point at a pile of chairs nearby. Eric picked them up like they were weightless and pushed the front door with his elbow. Candy followed him in.

They organized the café like they usually did. It felt good having some company, especially his. They had grown close since Nath introduced them, all this time ago. She glanced at him. Eric was stacking the chairs and seemed pretty concentrated in his task until he noticed her eyes upon him. He threw her a kind smile and continued his task. She noticed how he avoided her look after that. Her cheeks grew hot, wondering if he found the attention unpleasant.

Candy tried to break the silence with some small talk.

“So… did you finish moving your stuff to the new apartment? I hope you’re inviting me over someday, you know.” She didn’t think how her last words could be interpreted until they came out of her mouth. The inspector froze, clearing his throat.

“Uh… sure.” His answer filled her with regret. Damn, she shouldn’t have said that.

Candy’s feelings for Eric were… complicated. At first, they were friends. She enjoyed his presence and conversation ran smoothly between them. His small ritual of helping her close the café was one of the reasons why she believed the fondness was mutual.

Then, his divorce happened. It was a tough phase for him, before and after. Even though Eric didn’t have the perfect marriage (she hated the way he talked about Melissa and made that very clear to him), the separation shook him. It took him a few weeks to stop talking about it all of the time and she was sure that, deep down, he missed her. That was why she stood there for him, neglecting the constant pain over her chest as she heard him vent about the whole situation.

Candy took a while to comprehend that the reason behind that was that she liked him more than a friend. But how could she tell him that? He was facing an important change, she couldn’t be the reason for more trouble in his life.

So Candy stood by.

“I have to go to the kitchen real quick, I’ll be back in a second.”

Eric nodded and watched as her small frame disappeared behind the door. He let out a sigh. It was getting harder to control his emotions. Every word that came out of her mouth seemed to awake a different reaction from him, from a heartbeat leap to sweaty palms.His rational side didn’t like that, it made him feel like a teenager. On another side, it felt good to revive feelings that were buried inside of him for so long. It made him young, alive.

Suddenly, a thump was heard from the kitchen. Taking quick strides, he burst the doors open, finding Candy sitting on the floor with an upset face. She was gathering sugar packages that had fallen from a box. At least, none of them had been ripped.

Eric promptly helped her clear out the mess and offered himself to return the box to the top shelf. His muscles stretched, balancing the heavy cardboard on one hand and reaching out to put it where it was before. It was a short moment, but Candy watched every tense muscle from his back in awe, wondering if she would ever feel them against her, holding her.

“Thank you.” She tried to ignore her burning cheeks and hoped he wouldn’t notice them as he faced her. “It means a lot, to me, really.” He looked confused, so she explained her train of thought. “Your help, no, your… presence. I enjoy it.”

At this point Candy was avoiding his eyes in fear of him being able to read right through them, as he had done so many times with her. She felt naked around Eric, his trained and precise glare crashing down all of her defenses. When he approached her, she took a step back. It went on until her back hit the closed door. His chest was dangerously close to hers and she could smell his cologne. It was inebriating.

She wanted more.

Her face found his neck, inhaling the citric essence. Perhaps it had been her imagination, but Candy swore she felt him shudder when she kissed the area, licking and biting the area.

Eric leant against the door, pressing their bodies and using one arm to steady himself. His other hand found the small of her back, slipping under her shirt to caress the smooth skin. Finally, Candy withdrew her head and locked eyes with him for the first time since her sudden confession. His gaze was so intense that she felt like she couldn’t hold it for more than five seconds. But she did. Her eyes didn’t leave his when her hands touched his nape, grabbing a fistfull of hair and pulling him even closer. Their mouths were one inch apart.

It was so tempting. Her mouth begged to feel his wet, plump lips, but she couldn’t stop looking at him. It was impossible to decide.

She opened her mouth, thinking of something to say, and Eric took that moment to crash his lips into hers. His grip on her back tightened, the force of the touch eliciting a moan from her. Their tongues met from the first second and rubbed together, the movement of their jaws accommodating the encounter.

Candy couldn’t ignore her deepest urges anymore. She wanted, needed him, in every way possible.

“Ah…” She sighed when he groped her ass harshly, forcing their hips together, making her feel his arousal. Her hands quickly fidgeted with the buttons of his shirt, opening them just enough so she could place her palms flat against his haired chest.

Eric slipped his hands under her short skirt, cupping her and teasingly pressing his middle finger against her soft spot. A low moan escaped. Satisfied with Candy’s reaction, he pushed her legs apart and rubbed against her entrance. When he felt like she was wet enough, his thich digits made their way into her walls. His head was kissing her neck, so he didn’t see her eyes rolling in pleasure.

He pumped roughly, almost like an animal. His hot breath against her neck dampened her even more. She was almost there, just…

When Eric curled his fingers, she was sent over the edge. Her whole body shook and he had to hold her as her legs were giving in. Candy was breathless, sensitive and… surprised. Why didn’t they wait so long to do anything?

“Do you have condoms with you?”

He took his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, searching blindly for the item. When the familiar package was found, he started to undo his belt (with her eager help). In a second, his jeans were hung over his knees and his cock free.

Eric grabbed one of her legs and held it up, pushing her underwear aside and thrusting into her cunt in one movement. Candy gasped in pleasure. He moaned into her ear. Her hand found his butt and guided his movements, the other scratching his back desperately.

“Fuck… Candy, you have n-no idea…. how much… I-I waited…” She clenched around him as the familiar waves of pleasure started hitting her again. Her mouth could only form random words that made no sense to his ears.

Eric started slamming into her even harder as he reached his own orgasm. In one, final thrust he came undone, weakening his grip on her. Their clothes were dampened in sweat, their hair, messy. However, they had never felt so good in ages.

Candy looked at him. His eyes showed no remorse, only utter pleasure and content. Relief washed over her. She was afraid of him regretting what had just happened and wouldn’t be able to go back to what they were before if she asked her so. But he didn’t. Instead, Eric only said:

“Let’s go to my apartment.”

#my candy love #mcl eric #eric #my candy love eric #ericxcandy #mcl #mclll #my candy love love life #mcl love life #smut #writing #my writing #ask

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aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide · 3 years

Text

Spoilers: Futility 4x22

Trigger warnings: references to sexual assault and murder, angry sex, biting, marking

Evocations: XIII

Going through the motions and the paperwork after finding Gardner dead in Erin Goss' living room seemed to take a long, long time. When Olivia finally let herself into the apartment, it was so late that Sky High didn't even budge from the sofa when the door clicked open and then softly shut.

But Alex was still up. Noises drifting out of the kitchen drew Liv in that direction, where she found the blonde amid a disastrous mess of baking supplies. Open cannisters, boxes and bags were everywhere; flour, drips of mixtures, dropped chocolate chips, and empty egg shells ran from one end of the island to the other.

Alexandra baked when she was angry.

That was fine by Olivia, as they both had plenty to be angry about. The Gardner case had been a thorn in their side right from the beginning, and now it had ended less than optimally - to say the least. A rapist was dead but dead wasn't exactly justice, and none of them really believed that Erin had been defending herself.

Luck had been on Alex and Olivia's sides in the two years they had been together, in that they hadn't gone to the mat over cases very often. It was often commented on by those who knew they were together, how unusual this was.

"He's dead," Liv said flatly.

"So I heard," Alexandra replied, hands on her hips as she blew a section of blonde hair off her forehead.

Five rapes, three indictments dismissed, now a murder, and the perpetrator was dead. They were going to the mat this time, and they both knew it. Had known it since Alex had blown up over Gardner's motion to call Bethany to the stand. Very little of it was about pride; it was about the futility of it, of all the energy expended trying to protect the women, only to have things fall apart. Both women felt impotent, everything they had tried having only resulted in further complications.

"She was sleeping with him," Liv added.

Alex snorted, wiping her hands on her apron. "Well that was obvious."

The oven timer went off, and Alex slipped on oven mitts, yanking a tray of cookies out. Sighing, Olivia slumped into one of the bar chairs at the island.

"We never should have had Carrie waive her privacy," Alex tossed out.

"So the jury could have deadlocked over the ID? It still would have given him the chance to run and kill that woman."

"That woman would still be alive if we had done our jobs!" Alex slammed a spatula against the counter, every inch of her tall body wound tight with anger and inexpressible sadness.

"We did do our jobs!"

It wasn't that Olivia didn't understand; just two nights before she had been singing the same tune to Elliot, about the fine line between doing the right thing, and doing too many right things. There was just no soft place to land when they were both feeling like this.

"I can't do this anymore," Alexandra said tersely. Liv stilled in her seat, her heartrate leaping. "It's bad enough that I never know when you're going to come home with bruises from some predator attacking you. If I can't get justice for the victims, I'm failing on both fronts."

"Alex, I can take care of myself."

"Not always."

"Most of the time," Liv insisted. Alexandra made an irritated noise in her throat and flipped pages in her cookbook angrily. "If you want to drop SVU, nobody's stopping you," Olivia told her then, taking a page from Elliot's book.

Alex scoffed openly at that.

Liv rose from her chair and rounded the corner of the island counter. "Hey, it's true! Just because you're the best ADA that the unit has ever had, doesn't mean you can't move on. But I know exactly what I signed up for - and the bottom line is, a lot of the time this job is hell. That's not going to change."

The truth of the statement hung in the air between them.

"You don't get it, do you?!" Alex snapped, stepping up to the brunette, their sparking, angry gazes meeting. "I see what this job does to you - to us - and I can't lose you. I can't."

Alex's hand grabbed Liv's forearm, fingertips biting into the skin with the force of fear and guilt and anger. Worse, though, was that Olivia did understand; she knew exactly what the pressures of their jobs was doing to their relationship. It kept her awake some nights, wondering how long they could both sustain things.

Liv put her hand over Alex's and attempted to pry the fingers away, which resulted only in Alex's other hand, locking onto her bicep and pushing her hard against the counter.

"Alex," Liv warned, but it was obvious from the blonde's stormy gaze that it wasn't going to do any good.

Alex tightened her grip so that Olivia couldn't raise her arms, and leaned in, dragging frustrated kisses along the lines of the brunette's throat. The kisses included plenty of teeth, nipping and scraping the skin, leaving red marks in their wake.

Liv struggled under the weight of Alex's body pushing her, both women breathing angrily and fast. "For fuck sake, Alex!"

The blonde sank her hands into Liv's short dark hair and pulled, dragging a hiss from her throat before she clamped a hard kiss onto her mouth. Their fear, and impotence and exhaustion with the case poured into their angry touching, ramping up with every motion.

Olivia yanked at the apron that Alex was still wearing, her hands fighting to untie the strings as Alex tried to keep her pinned. Changing tactics, Liv used her weight against her, pushing forward and away from the island altogether. They stumbled across the space between the counter and the refrigerator, crashing into the appliance and sending magnets clacking to the floor.

Grunting with surprise, Alex steadied herself and fisted the bottom of Olivia's shirt into her hands, tugging it swiftly up over Liv's head and off, shoving her backward. The brunette crashed back against the island where Alex immediately pinned her with another kiss.

Olivia bit into the blonde's bottom lip, and Alex drew back, eyes wide. "Christ!" Blood welled where teeth had cut, and when the kiss began again, Liv sucked it clean.

The apron was finally untied and, Liv's hands slid down Alexandra's back, pulling her sweater up, wrestling to get it off. When it was gone, more biting followed, over the blonde's neck and shoulders until she was slapping Olivia's hands down. Pushing her in her hold, Alex got her turned around so that she was facing the counter.

One hand slid up Liv's back, curling to a stop at her neck, holding her in place while the other hand snaked around Liv's waist to open her pants. They had never really done this - fucked out of anger, out of fear - and it felt dangerous and electric. Alex's hand manoeuvred into Olivia's pants as she struggled, and when she was met with clamped thighs, she brought her knee up to wedge between her legs from behind.

"Fuck you!" Olivia panted.

Alexandra dropped her mouth to the warm skin of Liv's back and bit her there. "That's what I'm doing," she told her evenly. Spreading Olivia open with her long fingers, Alex stroked mercilessly over the swollen clit she found there.

"Fff-agghh!" Liv cried angrily, her forehead against the cool marble of the countertop.

The blonde released her grip long enough to jerk pants and underwear down together, then sank her fingers into Olivia's hair while the other hand stroked at the dripping wet heat of her entrance from behind. Both women growled unintelligibly when Alexandra filled Liv with her fingers.

She was not gentle, nor did Olivia want her to be, as Alex pulled her head back by the hair and fucked into her hard enough to stutter her feet forward on the floor. Liv stretched her arms across the island, fingers slipping on spilled flour and other sticky ingredients.

"You're going to come for me," Alex panted, then groaned at the responding clench of Liv's cunt around her fingers.

"Fuck . . . fuck!" It seemed to be the only working word left in Olivia's vocabulary.

Come she certainly did, screaming with anger, with relief, while trying to thrust into Alex's fingers yet somehow away from them all at once. Before Liv had barely caught her breath, she spun on the tall blonde and grabbed her with both hands, planted on either side of her ribcage.

Trailing remnants of flour and sugar in their wake, Liv shoved her hands beneath the bra Alexandra had on, squeezing her breasts gracelessly, pinching her nipples hard enough to make her hiss in pain. Then Alex's mouth was on Liv's again, her arms encircled her waist and she hoisted her onto the counter.

Olivia sank another bite into the blonde's throat, her hands working to get the bra off. When she succeeded, she raked her nails down Alex's back, getting a roar of lustful anger in response. For the first moment since they'd started, Alex stepped away from her, their eyes still locked like dogs growling through a fence.

She popped the button on her pants, unzipped and shoved her pants off her hips to the floor, kicking out of them. The scratches down her back were hot and stinging as she stepped back up to Olivia and brushed her lips close to her ear.

"Fuck me," she breathed, then bit down on Liv's earlobe.

"Make me," Liv rasped out, shivering as the bite was followed by Alexandra's hot tongue.

"My pleasure." The blonde grabbed one of Liv's wrists and pulled, dragging it low and forcing the fingers to uncurl.

As soon as her fingers made contact with the damp, wiry curls between the blonde's thighs, Olivia's resistance evaporated. Her fingers straightened so Alex could guide them where she wanted them, and where Alex wanted them was deep inside her. Then Liv took over, withdrawing and then sinking her fingers back in to the hilt, over and over again.

The last of their anger and fear burned down as the sound of Liv fucking Alex filled the kitchen, not stopping until the blonde was quaking and dripping and gasping for mercy.

"Another cookie?" Alex asked quietly.

"Mm, yes please," Liv nodded against Alex's chest.

Alexandra reached across to the plate of cookies that they'd rested on the toilet cover and took one, passing it off to the slippery, wet brunette that was atop her in the hot bath.

They had been there a long while, reheating the water each time it cooled, tending to their bites and scratches, washing off flour and sugar remnants. And, of course, eating cookies.

"Lex?" Olivia mumbled, serene but tired.

"Yes?"

"I promise you won't lose me, as long as I can help it."

Alexandra took a deep breath and combed her fingers through Liv's short, wet tresses. "I know, Babe. I know."

#law and order svu #svu #olivia benson #alex cabot #alexandra cabot #olivia x alex #cabenson #hearteyes4mariska #my writing #evocations #my fanfic #first angry sex #first fight over a case #tw: rape reference #tw: murder reference #tw: angry sex #tw: biting #tw: marking

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

Text

(requested by stephenvares; continuing from this)

Less than a month after returning from their honeymoon, Anya noticed something amiss; the next day, a trip to her primary physician told her what she’d already expected: she was pregnant. This was going to be a massive issue back home, no doubt about it...but honestly? She couldn’t care less - she had the Doctor, and it’s not like the Goddess herself minded. Hell, the Goddess was the first person she told, and She’d seemed pretty happy about it. (That was a fun conversation to tell the Doctor about that night, once he’d calmed down enough to do so.) Time passed, Pyara was born, and life was...life was…

Life was exhausting, for both the Doctor and his beloved bride, for the next few months. Paternity leave saved him from his duties with HR, Personnel, and Tactical Deployment (taken up by at least seven Operators to fill the gap), but not from helping Pramanix sort out the complicated situation back home while she took care of their daughter. Sleepless night after sleepless night, week after week. Anya was crankier than ever, and even the Doctor could feel his nerves fraying.

And then, one day, there was peace.

“...Hey, Anya?” The Doctor scritched behind her ear, trying to wake her up. “Aaaaanya.”

The priestess’s eyes popped open mid-snore. “Hrrrrgh. What?”

“Pyara’s not crying right now.”

“She’s not...She’s not? She’s not?!” She rolled out of bed - quite literally, landing face-first as usual - and flailed onto her feet and towards her child’s crib. “She’s...she’s asleep? But normally she’d be awake right now, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I’m confused. Did something happen?”

“I don’t- oh, my Goddess.” It wasn’t an exclamation as much as an acknowledgment; like picking up a phone receiver, Pramanix began to commune with the Goddess on the spot.

“Well, that would explain the miracle.” The Doctor chuckled to himself as he made his way to the kitchen. As good of terms as he was on with the priestess, interrupting her prayer-time wouldn’t end well for him, no matter how much he wanted his morning kiss. “I’ll make some coffee.”

A few minutes later, with a pot half-brewed, Anya emerged from their bedroom with Pyara nestled against her. “Little Pi here is old enough to hear the Goddess; She calmed her down for us.”

“Oh, thank the Goddess - literally,” he declared, looking pointedly at his wife’s bell when he said it.

“You know, She doesn’t do favors like this often,” the priestess noted with a smile. “You should do something nice for Her.”

Well, he knew exactly what that really meant, but hell, he could afford to spoil his wife more than a little. “And what would She like me to do for Her this morning?”

“She told me we should have chicken pot pie for dinner tonight.”

“...That’s it?” The Doctor shrugged. “Cool, that was my plan for tonight anyway. We have an anniversary to celebrate, after all.”

Pramanix blinked. “Anniversary? Don’t we still have a couple months for that?”

“For our paperwork and such, yeah. Not for our first date, though.” He winked at her before starting to pour two cups of coffee.

“Oh. I guess it has been a year, huh?” She sighed, landing in a chair at the dining room table for the little one’s breakfast. “Between that and this one, I feel old now...”

A sentiment the Doctor could relate to, honestly. “Time flies when you’re having fun, and I’ve certainly had fun with you~”

“You just wait your turn, mister.” Anya would have swatted him, but he was safely out of range until he brought their coffees to the table.

“I am, I am.” He managed to steal a kiss anyway, thanks to the mugs in his hands. “Your coffee and sugar.”

The priestess wavered between a giggle and a sigh and ended up just giving him a look. “You are so lucky I’m lucky to be here with you.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it - it was all your hard work that got us here.”

“Mmhmm.” She clicked her tongue while shaking her head. “Lying to the clergy.”

The Doctor chuckled. “Did you forget? If you hadn’t worked yourself to exhaustion during those first few months, I never would’ve had a chance to let you sleep on the office couch.”

“Oh, I didn’t forget that. For the first couple of days I was here, I was sleeping in the closet they gave me for an office; I only stopped because Steward came to offer a prayer and found me drooling on my desk.” Not her proudest moment, for sure.

“You’re kidding,” he replied in genuine disbelief. “And I was your first choice after that?”

Anya blushed. “Your office was neutral territory, and...and I already had a crush on you.”

“Really? We didn’t talk much until you started crashing in my office.” Then again, it’d taken him about five minutes to fall in love with her, so-

“It started when you held the door open for me my first day here.” She rushed through the end of the sentence because a certain small creature needed to switch sides.

He took a moment to see if he could remember doing that...nope. “So love at first sight?”

“Basically,” Pramanix admitted. “I saw your face underneath your hood, and that was that.”

“Huh. Maybe that’s why Kal’tsit told me to wear it...”

The Feline giggled. “Because you of all people need a limiter like that...Actually, she’s right. Someone else might’ve gotten to you first if it weren’t for that, after all. I’d thank her, but I think she’s still mad about the night I spilled wine on her.”

“I think she was more mad at Encio than anything that night,” the Doctor replied, vividly remembering that experience. “It’s always the little things, huh?”

“Always the little things.” As Anya said that, Pyara burped.

Her father smirked. “Speaking of. Is she almost done?”

“I think so.” The priestess held her out to him. “Can you take her while I clean up?”

“Absolutely. How’s daddy’s little angel, hmm?” As he took her, the infant began to purr, and the Doctor dashed into the kitchen for the paper towels he’d inevitably need.

Pramanix giggled again. “You’re catching on, huh?”

“One ruined keyboard pad is enough...Hmm. Maybe it was a false alarm.” A few seconds later, and it definitely was not. “Never mind. Do you think our Goddess would mind helping with that, too?”

“One second...Hey, Goddess...Uh-huh...Uh-huh?...Wait, really?...Alright, I’ll tell him. Thanks. She said sure.”

The Doctor’s head poked around from the corner as he continued cleaning up the mess. “I was joking.”

“Ask and you shall receive,” she smiled back. “Speaking of which, put her on her blanket when you’re done.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. We good, little princess?” The response was a wobbly nod, enough for him to walk her into the living room and set her on a blanket.

Payload delivered; Anya filled the Doctor’s empty arms with a warm smile, draping her tail behind his head. “Now you can carry me~”

“We’ll see about that.” He’d earned the playful slap on his shoulder with that comment, but to her surprise, he picked her up in a bridal carry and sauntered over to the couch, where they could watch their personal miracle work on what it meant to crawl. “So...one year, huh? Any regrets?”

“Regrets? Beyond not waking up to your face in the morning earlier? None I can think of.” Now she was the one purring.

He went for their first proper kiss of the morning - the first of many, especially today. “None for me, either. You are, without a doubt, the best thing to happen to me.”

“The absolute best?” The Feline booped his nose with a finger. “Even when I’m cranky?”

“I love my Anya in every mood she comes in.”

“Even when I scratch and bite your hands?”

“Even then.” The Doctor winked at her. “Maybe even a little more, since you remind me this isn’t a dream.”

Her purring was now audible as well as palpable. “Mmm. Would you mind helping this sleepy kitty wake up a little, darling?”

“Gladly.” And at last, it was ‘his turn.’

#arknights #arknights fic #pramanix (arknights)#this is more an anniversary fic than a mom-Op fic tbf #reminds me of the Dobermann one where she was in Medical more than like Mom Asbestos #...man it's weird to be able to say that about things i've written #wild #anyway Anya is still mofu mofu heaven and probably got even fluffier after having a kid and if that doesn't do things to your imagination #i have failed you as a fanfic author :D

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everamazingfe · 3 years

Text

Sweet Dreams

Fic Summary: Prompt: Jeremy wakes up one day and he's married to Michael, two kids included. He has no idea how he got there and is struggling a Lot, but... he's also weirdly not unhappy about it? An anonymous prompt request for a fic based on Jeremy's dream he mentioned in Stoneblock.

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Words in this fic: 2256 Pairings: Jeremy/Michael Warnings for this chapter: None

Notes: Click the content source to go read it over on A03!

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Jeremy woke up.

It wasn't an abnormal way to start a day, but it certainly felt abnormal to him. Without opening his eyes, he could tell that this wasn't his bed, or his blankets, or his bedroom, but at the same time... It was.

"Asshole, get up! You're gonna miss breakfast" a voice said, giving his shoulder a shove.

Jeremy grunted in surprise at the sudden disturbance, but he opened his eyes slowly after rubbing the sleep away from them. "Michael?" he asked, shocked to see his friend standing over him.

"Who the hell else would it be?" the man asked, stammering in disbelief before he continued on. He almost looked offended by the question. "C'mon, get up. The kids are gonna eat everything before we even get a bite if you don't get a move on."

Kids? Jeremy didn't have kids, did he? That would definitely be something he was sure about, but he wasn't. Regardless, he followed the order and got up, rubbing his eyes again tiredly. It felt so strange, but at the same time it all felt routine. He followed Michael down the stairs, his body moving on instinct as a toddler came barreling into his legs, scooping her up before they could actually crash into his knees and get hurt. The last thing they needed were tears this morning.

"Daddy said you were being a lazy bones," she chattered as Jeremy scooped her up, and another small giggle came from another room.

"That's not actually what I said," Michael responded as he entered the kitchen, plating up some food as coffee brewed on the counter beside him. "I said you were being a lazy sack of sh-"

"-No! No swearing!" the child in Jeremy's arms shouted, quickly clamping her hands over Jeremy's ears as if he'd never heard Michael swear before. "You'll have to pay a dollar if he hears you!"

He almost felt like he wasn't in control of his own body, or in control of his own thoughts. The knowledge in his head wasn't his, but somehow it had ended up there anyway. He knew that the child in his arms was named Jenna, and the one giggling from the table was named Lizzy. He knew what they liked and disliked, what made them cry, what stories they liked to be read before bed at night. But how did he know all that?

"Jeremy?" Michael asked, walking over to take Jenna from the other man when she started to squirm but Jeremy didn’t set her down. "Are you alright? You seem kinda out of it." It wasn't like they'd been drinking the night before, yet Jeremy was acting like he did when he was hungover. Disoriented and slow to move, staring into space until an outside force made him move. A frown settled on Michael's face as he set Jenna down at the table, bringing the two girls their plates of food and turning on the television so they'd be distracted.

Jeremy shrugged, wordlessly making himself a cup of coffee and stirring the sugar in slow. "I don't know... I feel out of it," he answered, letting out a soft sigh as he lifted the cup to take a sip. This felt right, at least. Some true familiarity to ground him. "I think I'm gonna skip breakfast, I don't really feel hungry.”

That only made Michael's frown deepen, but he wasn't going to force him to eat. "Okay... If you're sure," he said softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek and reaching around to give his butt a pinch. "We're talking more later, though."

Jeremy groaned internally, but he didn't voice his protest. That would just annoy or concern Michael even more than he already had. “Fine.” He walked out of the kitchen to go out to the living room, settling on the couch with his coffee, taking big sips in an effort to feel more awake. It didn’t work.

Trying to sort through everything that was happening only seemed to make Jeremy’s head ache, but he couldn’t keep going in his dazed and confused state. He had to feel real again.

He didn’t remember getting married to Michael or adopting kids, even though he remembered a wedding and the very long adoption process. The moments were in his brain, but they didn’t feel like they actually involved him. There were photos around the house of himself, Michael, and the two kids, proof he’d been there for those moments and for other small moments as well.

Maybe he’d hit his head last night? Slipped and fallen and knocked himself on the head so hard that he just forgot… All of his life with Michael? He reached a hand up to his head, feeling over the skin for a bump or a bruise or a cut, finding nothing. Besides, if he had, Michael would probably have chided him for it.

Jeremy sighed heavily, setting his coffee cup down and scrubbing his hands over his face. He’d just have to talk to Michael. Maybe he’d know what to do. Or he’d send him off to the hospital for being crazy, but part of him felt like he’d be okay with it if that ended up being the solution.

After breakfast, Michael helped the girls get dressed and took them to daycare. Usually that was Jeremy’s job, apparently, but they both agreed that he wasn’t in any state to be driving, especially with their kids in the car. When Michael returned from the short trip, Jeremy was still on the couch staring into the space ahead of him, and he stood in front of him with his arms crossed.

“So what’s your problem today?” The bluntness caught Jeremy off guard some, but it also helped pull him out of his state enough to look at Michael instead of through him.

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

“No! It’s not! I really don’t know!” He didn’t know why he was shouting. It was more out of frustration with himself than it was with Michael. “I don’t know what my problem is, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“So, what? You’re just… Ignoring the girls now? They seemed so sad in the car, apparently you’re not the fun dad anymore. You’ve always been the fun dad!”

Jeremy struggled to find the words to explain what he was dealing with. “This is going to sound awful. I know it is,” he muttered, leaning forward and putting his face in his hands as he collected his thoughts. Then, he sat up and met Michael’s eyes. “They don’t feel like my kids. This doesn’t feel like my house, or my life. I feel like I just got… Pulled out of my actual life and put here, with all the memories and routines and instincts of whoever I replaced.”

Michael’s face softened then, all the anger in his eyes fading away as he moved to sit next to Jeremy and wrap his arms around him. He leaned into the other without any hesitation, just letting himself be held. “Jeremy…” His voice was full of sympathy, and he gave the other lad a squeeze.

“I know. It sounds terrible. But I feel like my mind is just a total fog.” He let out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “When I woke up this morning, I was scared because I didn’t know where I was. But you were there, and it kind of all felt familiar, and that made things a little less scary, but then… It just felt like something else was moving me, because I wouldn’t know what to do otherwise.” Like a doll being played with.

Michael didn’t really know what to say, but he dropped an arm from around Jeremy to dig his phone from his pocket. After sending a quick text, he tossed it onto the coffee table and wrapped up Jeremy in his arms again. “Okay… First of all, we’re not going to work. No, you don’t get to argue with me right now. We’re not going,” he stated firmly, laying back on the couch with Jeremy on top of him. “We’re gonna try and get you sorted out before we have to pick the girls back up, I can’t handle the pressure of being the good dad.”

That made Jeremy chuckle softly, and after only a moment of hesitation did he let himself melt into Michael. Whatever discomforts and fears he may have had, Michael clearly didn’t have the same, so he just let the other take the lead.

A good part of the rest of the morning was spent on the couch. They stayed there, laying together like that for a few hours until the couch began to make their backs ache. Then they sat together, side by side as they played some shitty game that didn’t require much thinking together. The co-op was terrible, and the player-versus-player stuff was even worse, but the more Michael yelled the more at home Jeremy seemed to feel. It was like it was jarring his brain back into place.

They took a break for lunch, ordering what seemed like far too much food from McDonalds, but once they got their hands on it it barely managed to last. Food helped him some more too, and slowly Jeremy began to feel like this was his life and it was where he belonged. After lunch they played some more games together, this time deciding to play something that they both enjoyed.

By the time it was time to pick the girls up from daycare, Jeremy felt whole again. He and Michael still agreed that he shouldn’t drive, but he was still going to go with him to pick them up. He’d let them all down that morning, and he intended to make up for it. The afternoon into the evening was spent as usual it felt like, Michael picking away at achievement in some other game as the girls alternated between pestering him and making Jeremy draw with them. The fridge was adorned with many more drawings by the time they got bored of paper and decided to draw on Jeremy’s head instead.

“We’re gonna need more magnets,” he remarked, his head stuck into the sink as Michael used a washcloth to try and get the marker off. It wasn’t really working, he’d already resigned himself to wearing a hat to work tomorrow anyway.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, a small smirk playing across his lips. “Do we really? Or are you finally going to let me take your drawings down from there to make room for more by the real artists in the family?”

“Hey! You’re not allowed to take my drawings off the fridge, that’s a communal gallery space. You buy so much random shit off Amazon, adding some magnets to your cart shouldn’t be that big of a pain in the ass.”

“But Jeremy, it’s so much work. I have to type magnets in the search bar, and then actually click to put them in my cart! It’s so much effort,” Michael whined, laughing widely when Jeremy snatched the washcloth from his hands to smack him with it. The water splashed them both, but it left a wet mark on Michael’s shirt sleeve.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you.”

In the evening, Jeremy and Michael cooked dinner together with some ‘help’ from the girls. Jenna mimicked the way that Michael bossed Jeremy around the kitchen, echoing his orders and trailing behind him to make sure they were completed. Each time he looked for Michael for help, he was simply laughed at, and that was also mimicked. In the living room, Lizzy cooked up some side dishes to go with dinner at her kitchen playset. The kitchen was too noisy for her.

Dinner was pleasant once the cooking of it was done, and Jeremy washed the dishes while Michael got the girls ready for bed. Then, it was story time. The girls had separate rooms, and Michael read to Lizzy while Jeremy read to Jenna. Both were fast asleep before they even got halfway through the books, but they still read them through just in case they were faking it. Most of the time, they were. With the girls asleep in their beds, Jeremy and Michael went off to their room to do the same.

“You feeling better?” Michael asked from the bathroom as he brushed his teeth, sticking his head through the doorway to eye Jeremy as he changed.

He nodded, flipping the other off when he whistled as he watched Jeremy change out of his jeans into sweats. “Yeah, thank god. That was really fucking scary. I don’t know what was wrong with me.”

Michael hummed, dipping back into the bathroom, finishing up in there before coming back out. He wrapped his arms around Jeremy, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Good, cause I was scared too. You’re not allowed to do that shit ever again, got it?”

“Got it.” The promise was sincere, and Michael seemed satisfied with it.

They crawled into bed, and once again Jeremy was wrapped up in Michael’s arms. It felt right. It felt like home. The other was the first to fall asleep, but Jeremy wasn’t far behind, comforted by the sound of his steady breathing and the feel of his heartbeat. Sleep didn’t normally come easy to him, but after how the day had worn him out, it wasn’t hard for him to drift off into a peaceful slumber.

And then, Jeremy woke up.

#ragehappy #rpf #jeremchael #jeremichael #fic #fanfic #my writing #everamazingfe #prompt request #oneshot #oneshots

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caitlesshea · 4 years

Text

if you close your eyes

Happy (1 day) early birthday @themoonwhenimlost! I promised a Coffee Shop AU with a happy ending, so the happy ending will be posted on your actual birthday. Sorry not sorry? I love you!

Chapter 1/2

“Will you stop?”

Joe pauses his attempt at pacing a hole in the floor to glare at Booker.

“You’re just going to keep working yourself into a frenzy.” Booker tsks at him.

“I’m nervous.”

“You’ve done this before.” Booker points out unhelpfully.

And the thing is, is that Joe knows he has. He’s nine hundred and fifty four years old, and he died his first death nine hundred and twenty one years ago, leaving him forever thirty three.

His first death. Stabbed by a long sword at the hands of one Nicolò di Genova, but not before Joe was able to stab him first. Only, Joe gasped awake and Nicolò stayed dead.

Or so he thought. Thirty years practically to the day he sees Nicolò looking every bit the same, minus the ridiculous chain mail, working in Cairo.

At first he thought that Nicolò had survived that fateful day, like Joe had, but over time he came to realize that wasn’t the case. This Nicolò was not from Genova, even though his family hailed from there. He was born thirty years earlier.

Over the years they traveled together, became lovers, and when Nicolò had started to age, Joe told him his secret.

After his Nicolò passed, it became clear that history was repeating itself.

Ever since that second meeting, Joe will meet Nicolò one way or another, spend however long they have together in that lifetime, and then thirty years after he inevitably loses Nicolò, he’ll find him again.

Nicolò isn’t always the same. He’ll have different hair, different styles, even different names. But he always looks at Joe like he’s the sun.

Joe gets to fall in love with every version of Nicolò he meets.

Nicolò never remembers Joe or the lifetimes they’ve lived. Something Joe has spent his long life cursing the universe for.

Now, he’s pacing his apartment floor, thirty years after he last lost Nicolò to old age. He never knows why he gets an inkling to do something or go somewhere a year or two before the thirty years is up, but he always follows his gut and does what his heart tells him.

This time he knew he needed to be a university professor. Booker ever so kindly forging documents for him and now that he’s been at the university for two years he’s getting anxious.

With technology how it is he knows he could’ve looked up Nicolò. He knows he’ll have some variation of the name he had all those years ago when Joe was still Yusuf and Nicolò was still Nicolò.

But, he doesn’t want to. Well, that’s not true. But he feels like that’s cheating destiny.

So far they’ve always met organically. Joe never seeks him out and once he gets comfortable enough to let his guard down and share their past with Nicolò it always goes over as smoothly as it can.

“Too many times.” Joe answers Booker solemnly.

“Joe.”

“No. No, I’m being melancholic.”

Booker snorts but then softens. “Hey.” Booker stands and grabs Joe’s shoulders. “This is always the worst part but once you meet it’s like he never left.”

“I know. I know.” The thing is Joe does know. Even though Joe always goes through thirty year periods without Nicolò he always gets him back.

Reincarnation.

Or, that’s what Copley, Booker’s husband, had called it when he first became immortal and joined their family.

“Alright enough of this.” Booker walks over to the front door to put on his shoes. “I want coffee, we’re getting coffee.”

“I have coffee here.” Joe mutters weakly as he puts on his own shoes.

“I want to try that new place on Charlie.”

“Cup of Joe?” Joe groans even as he says it. He hates coffee shops close to the university because he always seems to run into students.

“Yes that one! I like the name.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too, mon chéri.”

Joe laughs as Booker blows him a kiss as they make their way to the coffee shop.

“I’m telling James you said that.”

“You wound me, Yusuf.”

“You’ll get over it.” Joe mumbles as he pushes open the door to the coffee shop with an entirely un-unique name.

He’s about to let Booker walk in first when he turns and runs into someone. The moment they touch Joe knows it’s Nicolò.

Joe’s breath catches and they lock eyes, only Nicolò doesn’t have the usual look of wonder when they meet, no. This time he’s scowling.

“Scusi.” Nicolò looks at him and scurries away but not before shooting a glare back at Joe.

Booker shrugs and a woman wearing an apron behind the counter quickly apologizes for Nicolò’s behavior.

“Sorry. Nicky’s not normally so rude to customers.” The woman glares at Nicky and Joe smiles at the name.

Nicky.

He’s never gone by Nicky before but Joe immediately loves it.

“It’s alright. Maybe he didn’t see me.”

Booker snorts and Joe elbows him in the side.

“Maybe.” The woman looks at Nicky and turns back to them. “I’m Nile, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a large soy chai with extra whip cream.” Booker cuts in and Joe rolls his eyes at his drink choice.

“I’ll take a coffee please, two sugars.” Joe says and Booker elbows him now and points to a sign.

First coffee is free for customers named Joe.

“Oh! Free coffee?”

“Is your name Joe?” Nile asks as she pulls out two punch cards for them.

“Yes.” Joe answers at the same time Nicky says, “That’s not his name.”

“Nicky.” Nile hisses and turns around. “Frankie! Come get your boy.”

Another woman comes out from the back of the counter and takes one look at everyone and then grabs Nicky who starts muttering something that suspiciously sounds like his name is Yusuf in Italian.

Joe's staring stock still and Booker’s looking at him like he’s worried Joe’s going to start freaking out.

“I am so sorry. Coffee’s on the house. I promise he is not like this.”

Nile’s worried voice breaks him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“It’s okay. I’m a professor at the university so my real name is in my bio. It’s Joseph.”

“Presumably most people named Joe have a full name.” Nile mumbles and looks back to where Frankie is forcing Nicky to sit down.

“Anything else?” Nile asks as Joe stares at the bakery case.

“No thanks.” Joe answers and they take their coffees to go.

“That was weird.” Booker mutters when they get outside.

“You think?” Joe scrubs a hand over his face. “He’s never been hostile towards me.”

“Except the first time.” Booker points out unhelpfully.

Joe glares at him.

“C’mon, we’ll come back tomorrow after your class. Maybe he’ll be in a better mood.”

~~~

Turns out, Nicky is not in a better mood when they head back to Cup of Joe.

Nile shoves him into the back as they order and Joe’s heart sinks.

Booker looks like he’s about to say something when Joe spots baklava in the bakery case.

“Baklava?”

“Oh yes. Nicky loves it, loves to travel, so he bakes different versions from around the world. If you put in some money and guess the ingredients we’ll give you one on the house.”

Joe looks up at a sign that says:

Place your bets!

Booker snorts and Joe is transported to the last time Booker and Nicolò bet five hundred dollars on Andy guessing the flavors of an Eastern Turkey baklava.

Joe can hear Nicolò’s voice in his head.

“Five hundred, Booker?”

Joe turns to look at Booker and can tell he’s reliving the same memory.

“Alright, five dollars Joe can guess that one.” Booker points to one on the top shelf and places a five dollar bill in the bowl.

“Okay!” Nile scoops up the baklava and hands it to Joe on some parchment. Before he takes a bite, Nile's yelling for Nicky and Frankie.

“Nicky! Frankie! We’ve got a guesser!”

A crash sounds and then giggling and Joe’s breath catches at the sound of Nicky’s laughter.

“Honestly, introduce my wife to my best friend once.” Nile mumbles and Joe chuckles.

He understands that sentiment, the first time he introduced Nicolò to Andy, Quynh, and Booker, and every time thereafter, they’ve all become fast friends.

“Who’s guessing?” Nicky asks and then pauses when his eyes lock with Joe’s.

Nicky turns away too quickly for Joe to notice anything so he decides to take a bite of the baklava and moans at the flavor.

“Mmm. Hazelnut, not walnut.” Joe takes a bite as Booker starts counting the ingredients off on his fingers. Nile smiles at him.

“Black Sea.” Joe smiles and takes another bite. “Rose water, pomegranate.”

Joe can see Nicky tensing and Joe takes another bite.

“Mmm. Eastern Turkey.”

Joe opens his eyes in time to see Nile clapping and Booker smirking.

But Joe only has eyes for Nicky, who’s covering his face in his hands as he turns and heads back behind the counter. Frankie pats Nicky on the back and looks at Joe and Booker.

“You’re the first one to guess that flavor profile.” Then she turns on her heels to find Nicky.

“That was amazing!” Nile’s still smiling and Joe shrugs.

The flavors are familiar because it’s the last piece of baklava they bought Andy together, on their last trip to Turkey, the one Nicky bet Booker on.

Booker shrugs at him and orders another coffee.

“Do you want your free pastry now or rain check?”

Joe thinks about it for a moment. “Rain check.”

Nile nods and pulls off a coupon from a little booklet and hands Joe a coffee. He thanks her for both as he wanders over to the wall of books and smiles at the little stand to drop off used books.

“This was Nicky’s idea.” Nile says as she comes up beside him.

“The books?” Nicolò always did love books. Joe smiles at the warm memories.

“Mm. My wife and I wanted to open a coffee shop, and Nicky agreed to partner with us if he could bake and bring his books.”

Joe feels warm all over at the very Nicolò like thing that was to do. Nicolò was always reading and feeding people.

“These are his?” Joe looks over at the books.

“Some of them, yes. He thinks they should be shared with the world, which is why if you leave a book.” Nile points to the stand. “You can take a book.”

“I love that.” Joe says honestly.

“So did we.” The bell at the front door jingles to indicate a new customer and Nile smiles as she goes to help them.

“How very Nicolò.” Booker mutters as he walks up to the books.

“I know.” Joe stops suddenly when he sees them.

His books. His poetry. Nine of them, the very first volume One Thousand Sixty Nine is the only one missing.

“Joe.”

“He has my poetry books.” Joe whispers, looking at the volumes, all written under various cover names. Except the first one. Which hasn’t been in print for a long time, the remaining copies sitting in a trunk at his house.

“He has good taste.” Booker tries to joke but Joe isn’t convinced.

“He’s never.” Joe shakes his head. “He’s never had any of my things before.”

Booker turns back to look at where Nile and Nicky are whispering with a look of great concentration on his face.

“What?” Joe snaps and then immediately apologizes. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. C’mon, you can come back tomorrow.”

“I don’t…”

“Joe.” Booker grabs his shoulders after they get outside. “I know this is different but when has any of this ever made sense?”

“No, you’re right.”

“I usually am.” Booker says smugly as Joe rolls his eyes.

“Don’t push it.”

~~~

Joe changes up his tactics the next day, heading to Cup of Joe without Booker.

He’s waited thirty years to see his Nicolò, hopefully he can manage a single conversation with Nicky that doesn’t involve glaring.

No such luck.

“Morning Nicky.” Joe says brightly and Nicky, ever the professional, sighs with his whole body and gets Joe’s coffee.

That he doesn’t even have to ask Joe what he likes to drink makes Joe smile.

“Did you want your free pastry?” Nicky asks him and Joe smiles at the first real words Nicky has spoken to him.

“Surprise me?” Joe smirks and some of the tension Nicky’s carrying eases.

Nicky picks a pastry that Joe finds vaguely familiar and when Joe takes a bite he actually can’t help the moan that escapes.

“Oh my god, this is my favorite.” Joe says around a mouthful of a desert he hasn’t had in years. His mother used to make a variation of this and Nicolò always replicated it when he would learn that fact.

“I know...I’m glad you like it.” Nicky curses in Italian and Joe can only look at him inquisitively.

Before Joe can say anything else another customer walks in taking Nicky’s attention.

Joe walks over to the bookcases and discretely pulls his own book out of his bag, the first volume that Nicky’s collection is missing. He places it on the Borrow a Book shelf and turns back to speak to Nicky.

“Ci vediamo domani.” Joe waves, pleased at the look of shock on Nicky’s face.

Joe’s about to go to class when he sees a text from Booker.

[Book: you gave him the book didn’t you?]

[Joe: how did you know that?]

[Joe: did you break into my place again?]

[Book: I have a key]

[Joe: I’m taking it back]

[Book: no you aren’t]

Joe sighs, Booker’s right. He isn’t taking his key back. They all have keys to each other’s place, privacy long since passed between all of them. It’s more enter at your own risk now. But still.

Joe wanted a little more time with his decision to essentially out himself as himself with this prickly version of Nicolò before everyone else knew about it.

And everyone else would know about it because Booker likes to gossip.

He pockets his phone, resigned to spending hours with ungrateful students before he can see Nicky again.

~~~

Joe thought when he walked into Cup of Joe the next morning he would be met with a shy smile and a ‘how did you find that edition?’ of his book that he dropped off.

What he did not expect was for Nicky to grab him by the arm and bring him right back outside in such a flurry that Joe nearly falls down.

Joe takes a moment to steady himself as he takes in the anger and fear on Nicky’s face.

It’s something Joe hasn’t seen in centuries, although this Nicky is already so different than the Nicolò’s of the past, from his longer hair curling around his ears, the beard around his face, and two gold earrings, but also the fact that he seems to remember is enough for Joe to know this time is different.

“Where did you find this?” Nicky scowls and shakes the book Joe dropped off the day before in front of his face.

“I…”

“Yusuf.” The sound of Joe’s real name jolts him back into awareness. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I had it in my collection. Thought I could complete yours.”

“Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani.”

Joe sucks in a shaky breath.

“Tell me how I know that’s your name.” Nicky snarls. “Tell me.”

“How? I don’t - ”

“He’s the moon when I’m lost in darkness and warmth when I shiver in cold.”

“Nicky.”

“Tell me, Yusuf, how I didn’t have to read a single line in this damn book to know what it said.” Nicky shoves the book into Joe’s chest and he clutches it to him.

“I - ”

“Better yet. Tell me how I remember you writing this. In Malta, in our cottage by the sea with the windows open while I laid in bed. ‘Nicolò, habibi, stay just like that.’ ‘Are you sketching again, amore mio?’ ‘No, writing about our love.’ Because it is a memory, isn’t it?”

Joe feels like he’s been sucker punched.

“You...you remember?”

Nicky groans and grabs at his hair. Joe doesn’t know how this is possible. So many things in his life haven’t made since but Nicolò, even though they go years without each other, has always been his constant.

“Tell me how this is possible?”

“I can’t, I…” Joe feels like he can’t breathe and the incoming panic isn’t helping. “I have to go.”

Joe turns quickly and walks away from Nicky as fast as he can even though Nicky’s shouting after him.

“Yusuf!”

Joe feels like running but he’s already struggling to breathe so he doesn’t, thankful that Booker and Copley live close to the coffee shop.

He gets to their door and knocks, barely able to stand. He could use his key but that would require effort. He hears someone’s footsteps, Copley’s probably, and braces against the door as it opens.

“Joe? Why didn’t you use your key?” Copley asks him and then frowns at him.

“James.” Joe croaks out and Copley immediately knows that something is wrong because Joe has called him James exactly one time, and it was when Copley and Booker got married.

“Okay. C’mon. Can you walk?”

Joe nods and he can tell Copley is checking him over to see if he’s injured.

“‘M fine.”

Joe sinks down onto their plush couch as Copley calls for Booker.

“James? Was someone at the door?” Booker takes one look at what Joe is sure is the most pathetic he’s ever looked before Booker’s running over to him.

“Joe? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Booker’s frantically checking him over and Joe just shakes his head.

Joe looks up at the sound of more footsteps and cringes when he sees Andy and Quynh.

“What? You didn’t think we remembered what year it is?” Andy asks as she sits on the coffee table.

Joe gives her a weak smile as Booker grabs his hands to stop them from shaking.

Copley hands him a glass of water and Joe’s grateful for the cold, as he takes a couple of minutes to get his breathing under control.

When he’s finally able to take a true breath he looks up at the people he’s called family for longer than anyone should ever live and cries.

“He remembers.” Joe says brokenly.

“Who?”

“What does he remember?”

“What happened?”

“Nicky?”

Joe ignores the rapid fire questions from everyone and just looks at Booker.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Someone tell me what’s going on.” Andy uses her no nonsense voice and Joe cringes.

“He met Nicolò the other day.” Booker sighs after a moment when Joe stays silent.

Andy and Quynh gasp, which Joe supposes is nice, that Booker didn’t let the cat out of the bag until Joe could tell them himself.

“He goes by Nicky this time.” Joe smiles at the memory of finding out that Nicolò uses a nickname in this lifetime.

“He owns a coffee shop with two of his friends, it’s called Cup of Joe.”

Andy snorts and Quynh swats at her arm.

“He, well there were signs the last couple of days that he knew things about me, about us, that he shouldn't have. But I just assumed it was me overreacting.”

“I take it the book didn’t help?” Booker holds up the book to show everyone and Joe nods.

“I dropped it off yesterday and today before I even made it inside Nicky was grabbing me and bringing me outside to tell me he remembered every line of poetry.”

“Well, that would make sense if he read it yesterday.” Copley sits down next to Booker, who immediately grabs his hand.

“He didn’t just remember the poetry. He remembered what we were doing when I wrote it.”

“Gross.” Booker gags and Joe shoves him while everyone laughs.

“No. We were in Malta. He told me word for word the conversation we had.”

“And you remember it?” Andy asks and Joe glares at her.

“Of course I do.” Joe snaps and then reaches out to squeeze Andy’s hand in apology.

“What do you want to do?” Andy asks him and Joe shakes his head.

“No, it’s not just about me or - ”

“Joe. If he’s remembering you need to tell him. You always do anyway.” Booker says quietly.

“He was just so confused.” Joe puts his head in his hands, ashamed at himself for leaving Nicky there when he was clearly freaking out.

“Hey.” Booker grabs his shoulder and Joe looks at him.

“I just left him. He’s all alone and I left him, probably wondering what’s going on.”

“It’s too late now to do anything. You can go to the coffee shop tomorrow and see him.” Booker suggests as Copley stands to make dinner.

“Tomorrow.”

Joe wants to go now. Wants to comfort Nicky or at least be an outlet for his frustration. Joe’s never had to explain their history to Nicky with Nicky already having a head start.

“Fine. Copley better be making croque monsieurs.”

“I am!”

Booker laughs and claps him on the back and Joe nods, resolute to fix this, so he doesn’t lose Nicky this lifetime.

~~~

Joe shows up at Cup of Joe right as it’s opening, a small bushel of lavender, Nicolò’s favorite, in his right hand, and his poetry book in his left.

Nile takes one look at him when he gets to the counter and scowls.

Joe takes a step back and holds his hands up. Nile notices the lavender and softens immediately.

“Is that for Nicky?”

“Yeah.” Joe swallows. “How is he?”

“He’s...been better.”

Joe nods and looks to the side, wondering just how much Nicky disclosed to his friends. They’ve had mortal friends throughout the years, if only because Nicky was mortal as well. A few they’d let in on their secrets but not in a long time.

Nile sighs loudly and he turns his attention back to her.

“Look. I don’t know what happened between you two, but he was pretty shaken up yesterday.”

“I didn’t…” At Nile’s scowl, Joe amends his statement. “It was a misunderstanding. I have no intention of hurting him again.”

Nile takes a moment, sizes him up, and must come to some conclusion that he’s telling the truth because she nods and hands him a brown paper bag and a to go cup.

“What’s this?”

“His favorites.”

Joe smells the bag and smiles. “Vanilla latte and blueberry scone.”

Nile smiles at him and Joe’s thankful she doesn’t ask how he knows that.

“He lives upstairs. That.” She nods to the bag. “Will let him know I sent you.”

“Thank you, Nile.”

“Don’t make me regret this!” Nile shouts after him as he goes to leave.

“I won’t!”

Joe finds the stairs leading to the second floor and smiles at the hanging plants and welcome mat that says ciao at the front door.

Nicky opens the door before Joe even knocks, almost like he was expecting Joe to stop by.

Joe smiles and holds up his offerings. “Hi. I think we should talk?”

Nicky holds the door open further so Joe can walk inside and as he takes a look around he smiles warmly at the apartment that is so very Nicky.

“Nile gave me these.” Joe hands over the coffee and scone. “And I brought you these.”

Nicky takes the lavender and brings it to his nose to smell. He smiles a little, even though it’s sad.

“I guess I don’t have to tell you they’re my favorite, do I?”

“I’d love to learn everything about you.” Joe blurts out instead of the answer Nicky really wants.

Nicky takes that for what it is as he puts the lavender in a vase and then opens the brown paper bag and moans when he sees the scone.

Joe chuckles. “You like your own baking that much?”

Nicky looks at him oddly and then shakes his head as he takes a bite. “I don’t make these, Frankie does.”

Joe pauses and then smiles as he remembers that he always made Nicolò scones, an old family recipe that puts…

“Brown sugar in the batter.” Nicky finishes and Joe realizes that he said the last part out loud.

Joe smiles, sheepish, and holds up the book instead.

“I wanted you to have this.”

“Why?”

“Well, frankly, it’s yours.”

Nicky nods and hands Joe a glass of water and Joe is grateful for something to do with his hands as he waits for Nicky to answer.

Joe hands it to Nicky who runs his hands over the cover like it’s something special and precious.

“This was the only one I couldn’t find. The others, they’re not a true collection, different authors.” Nicky grins. “But I knew they were all by the same person.”

“Did you?”

“Know it was you before the other day?”

Joe nods, wondering if Nicky’s been remembering his past lives his entire life.

“No. And before you ask I didn’t start...uhh, the, uhh, un riccardo, how do you say in English?”

“Memory.”

“Right, the memories didn’t start until we met the other day.”

“When we touched?” Joe remembers the jolt he felt, unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

“Sì.”

“I’ve had these feelings my whole life, inklings, I think. Like with the books, the scones, things like that, but never actual memories before.”

Joe looks around the apartment and notices the tapestries and rugs that match the ones they have in their home in Malta. The artwork on the walls, reproductions of both Booker’s and Joe’s art. The same nine books of Joe’s that he has in the coffee shop. Little pieces of their lives together and Nicky had no idea.

“It’s all familiar to you?” Nicky asks him quietly and Joe nods.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“Our life...lives.”

Joe looks shocked for a moment. “I thought you?”

“I want to hear it from you, if you’re willing?”

“Yes. Yes of course.” Joe smiles, pleased that Nicky’s willing to hear him out. “Where do you want me to start?”

“The beginning.”

“It’s quite a long story. I’ve been alive a long time.”

“I’d like to hear it. I need to...make sense of everything.” Nicky points to his head and Joe smiles.

“Alright. I’m pretty sure you killed me during the Crusades.”

Nicky laughs and Joe can’t help it, he laughs too. A thought occurs to Joe and he gasps.

“Is that why you were so cold to me when we first met?”

Nicky’s cheeks turn a bright pink as he ducks his head and Joe warms at the sight.

“I didn’t know what was happening. I was confused. Seeing things that couldn’t have been real, in languages I didn’t know I knew.” Nicky shrugs.

“You know I don’t blame you, right? We’ve long since worked it out.”

Nicky gasps and Joe’s glad that he can read this version of Nicky.

“The love of my life was of the people I’ve been taught to hate.” Nicky recites and then shakes his head and Joe steps closer, raises his hand to telegraph his movements.

Nicky nods and Joe squeezes his hand, gasps as the buzzing returns but then settles.

“I love you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“You’re right, I don’t know this version of you, but I know your heart. I know the pain you still feel about what happened, but I’m telling you, the Nicolò I love has grown to realize the mistakes he made when he marched on Jerusalem.”

Nicky squeezes his hand before he steps back and Joe lets him go, stepping back a little himself.

“I’ll make you a deal. I’ll tell you about our lives together, and you tell me about you.”

“You want to know about me?”

“I want to know everything.”

Nicky smiles and turns to put on a kettle. Joe warms at the thought that Nicky still loves tea even though he owns a coffee shop.

“Chamomile? I think we’ll be up a while.”

Joe nods and takes a sip of the tea when it’s done, smiling when he realizes it’s just the way he likes it.

Joe walks over the couch and settles with a blanket as he gestures for Nicky to join him. Nicky chuckles softly and goes to sit down.

Joe immediately shares the blanket as they settle in.

“I think I’d rather hear about you first, especially if you remember a lot of our lives.”

“I’m not that interesting.”

“Nicolò.” Joe waits until Nicky looks at him. “You are the most interesting person to me, always.”

Nicky blushes again and Joe’s enamored. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, he can’t wait to learn everything about this Nicky.

~~~

When he leaves Nicky’s apartment the next morning, he’s smiling from ear to ear, with a spring in his step, even though he didn’t sleep.

They spent the rest of the day and all night talking, trading story after story. He knows they didn’t learn everything but he feels closer to Nicky than he ever has before, not realizing he was missing a partner that just knew things about him.

He also managed to get Nicky’s number and plans for an actual date tomorrow night, since all they ended up eating was leftovers.

He’s giddy with the thought of dating Nicky. Of learning about all of the little things that make this Nicky decidedly his own.

Joe doesn’t know how he does it but he makes it through all of his lectures and office hours. He even makes it through dinner with the family, overjoyed to tell them about his night and plans for the next day.

He wakes up happier than ever, eager for the day to end so he can take Nicky out on their date.

“I’ve never seen you like this.” Booker comments as they make their way to Cup of Joe the next morning.

“It’s all so new, we’ve never dated like this before.”

“You’ve dated.”

“But not like this. Not where he knows.” Joe knows he’s practically bouncing as they walk down the street, smiling from ear to ear.

Booker chuckles and he shoves his brother lightly when he sees Nicky, Nile, and Frankie setting up their patio outside the coffee shop.

Joe also knows he has a besotted look on his face because Booker gags and then groans.

“Oh god, it’s like that already?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Joe says innocently and Booker smiles.

“It’s good to see you like this, brother.”

Joe smiles warmly at Booker before he looks back at the trio outside the coffee shop. They’re just crossing the street and he calls out for Nicky.

“Nicolò!”

But just as Nicky turns to smile at him, a car comes barreling down the road, completely out of control, and Joe can only watch in horror as the car hits the curb right in front of the coffee shop, flipping and careening right into the patio in a sickening crunch.

“Nicolò!” Joe screams as others nearby scream and he and Booker run towards the wreckage.

“Nicolò!” Joe slides to where Nicky was standing and sees him lying lifeless on the patio. He briefly touches Nicky’s forehead and looks around and sees Nile and Frankie lying at unnatural angles.

Nicky’s body is shielding them like he tried to push them out of the way.

“Nicolò.” Joe croaks as Booker tries to pull him away.

“No. No!”

“Joe. We have to call for help.”

“I can’t leave him!”

“Joe. He’s gone.”

“No! No!” Joe sobs as he cradles Nicky’s head. “No.”

“Yusuf.”

“No.” Joe knows he’s not breathing right, the hiccuping sobs making it harder to think.

“Nicolò, destati.” Joe sobs as he brushes Nicky’s shoulder softly.

“Destati.”

#the old guard #joe x nicky #reincarnation au #mentions of car accident #canon temporary character death

70 notes · View notes

contemplativepancakes · 4 years

Text

stay lost in this moment forever

nearly 11k of pure, unadulterated horse girl geralt fluff. read on ao3 here.

in which they head to the coast, and get away for a while.

Geralt’s not quite sure what to do with himself, here. There are no monsters, just a rocky stretch of a beach that’s all theirs. At least, that’s what Jaskier had said, his mouth hot near Geralt’s ear as he took him in hand beneath the stars. Geralt hadn’t had the will to question him.

He looks at Jaskier, scribbling furiously in his notebook, the quill Geralt gifted him flying across the page. Geralt stretches languidly, but Jaskier doesn’t look up at him. “Jask,” he says, and no, he doesn’t whine.

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement, and Geralt fights the urge to throw a pillow at him.

“I’m bored.”

“What happened to the whole no emotions schtick?” Jaskier asks instantly, not turning his attention away from the page.

This time, Geralt does throw the pillow, and finally, Jaskier looks at him. “Needy this morning, are we?” Jaskier asks, the scent of satisfaction drifting off of him unbearably.

Geralt grunts in protest. He’d never be anything as undignified as that.

“Sure,” Jaskier says skeptically. He looks back down at his writing, and Geralt huffs and gets out of bed.

He takes his time getting dressed, and he definitely does not stretch to reach the top shelf, knowing the way it makes his back muscles ripple. There’s not even a rustle from behind him.

Geralt gets dressed and wanders out of their little shack. If Geralt was in a more generous mood, he’d call it a cottage, but alas. Geralt tries to walk as quietly across the stones as he can, the habit to be light footed ingrained in him even if there’s nothing that he is trying to hide his presence from.

Geralt makes his way down the beach, to where the rocks finally give way to grass. He walks a bit farther still, until trees start to sprout on the horizon, and he sees Roach. He walks up to where she’s grazing, in a pasture he fenced off.

Jaskier had been interested in him that day, at least. “Do you know what a sight you make, all sweaty and good with your hands?” Jaskier had whispered into his ear.

Geralt hummed. “I think you had better show me.”

And Jaskier did. Repeatedly.

He’s jerked out of his reverie by Roach nudging him with a snort. Geralt combs his fingers through her mane and leans on the post he had driven into the ground. Jaskier hadn’t been able to hold in his comments on that particular action.

Geralt huffs. He wishes Jaskier was here, that he wasn’t too busy composing to pay attention to Geralt. He’s distracted by a horse’s scream somewhere to his right. He wrenches back from Roach, who has her ears laid back flat.

Geralt looks toward the tree line, but nothing seems out of place. It’s not like he can ignore a call for help, though, so he unsheathes his sword and makes his way into the woods just beyond Roach’s pasture. He almost hopes he finds something amiss, just so he can tell Jaskier that keeping his swords on him wasn’t overkill. He’s a witcher, he can’t just walk around unarmed, no matter how many times Jaskier insists they’re on vacation. Witchers don’t just take vacations, he protested, but Jaskier paid him no heed.

He scans the woods as he walks farther in, but in the end, he almost steps right on it. There’s a horse lying in a copse, panting shallow breaths, his belly slick with blood.

Geralt’s face pinches, and he crouches down. The horse whinnies in agitation, but he’s not exactly in a position to refuse Geralt’s help. Something’s torn the horse’s stomach open and left it here for dead. Geralt’s stomach turns. He hates seeing needless suffering. He probes the wound with his fingers, biting his lip and trying to decide if the horse has a chance to make it, or if Geralt should put an end to the misery. The horse hasn’t stopped nickering since Geralt got there, so Geralt’s not going to take the choice away from him. Geralt sits down next to him and pets the horse’s snout, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a sugar cube that he keeps for Roach. The horse’s lips close around it, and Geralt convinces himself that the horse is going to be okay.

Geralt pulls out a flask, just a standard disinfectant, and pours it over the wound. The last thing they need is an infection, and Geralt thanks his paranoia for keeping him prepared. The horse neighs in pain, and Geralt runs two fingers over his soft nose. “It’s okay,” he croons. “You’re doing so good.”

Geralt looks at the wound, thinking. There’s really nothing left but to stitch it up. Stitching wounds is bad enough on humans who understand what’s going on, much less on an animal that doesn’t understand he’s trying to help it. He smooths a hand down the horse’s flank, murmuring nonsense and hoping it’s soothing.

The horse turns his head to nuzzle Geralt’s hand.

“Geralt? Geralt!” comes a call from out of Geralt’s view.

He doesn’t want to startle the horse, but he can hear the worry in Jaskier’s voice, so he replies, “Over here!” trying to be just loud enough for Jaskier to hear.

He hears Jaskier grumbling, then there’s a crashing through the underbrush. “Seriously, Geralt? What are you—oh. Oh.”

Geralt looks up at Jaskier, who looks down at all the blood before he looks back at Geralt, his eyes wide.

“I‘m glad you’re here,” Geralt says, “I could use your help.”

“Oh, joy.”

“What’s his name?” Jaskier asks finally, after a week, when it’s starting to look like the gelding is staying.

“Roach.”

“Geralt, you can’t just name all your horses Roach. That’s ridiculous.”

Geralt shrugs. “It’s worked out so far.”

“Yes, but two at once? They’ll be confused.”

“They’re smart,” is all Geralt says.

Jaskier throws his hands up and walks away, but Geralt coaxes him back soon afterwards. Jaskier gives him a begrudging kiss and smiles against his lips.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whines, “Pay attention to me.”

Geralt doesn’t glance up from he’s brushing Roach down, with the other Roach nosing against his arm. Roach has been standoffish ever since Geralt introduced her to the second Roach, and he’s starting to think Jaskier might have had a point about the names, but Geralt’s not going to admit that to him.

“Geralt,” Jaskier says again, drawing it out.

There’s a smile playing at Geralt’s lips, but he finally looks up, Jaskier himself winning out over Geralt’s desire to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Jaskier is right there beside him, and when Geralt looks at him, he wraps an arm around Geralt’s waist. “Having fun?”

“Never,” Geralt deadpans.

“Never? Really? Never? Have you forgotten last night already?”

“I think I need a reminder.”

“I can probably arrange that.”

Jaskier mouths at Geralt’s neck, but Geralt pushes him away.

“In front of Roach?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes and pulls him back in anyway. Geralt doesn’t offer any more protests.

“Geralt, stay here,” Jaskier says plaintively, tugging on his arm.

Geralt shrugs away from him, lacing up his pants. Jaskier wraps his hand around Geralt’s wrist from his spot on the bed. Geralt looks down at him and almost gives in, but he needs to check on Roach. His stitches have been healing well, but he has a troublesome habit of trying to chew them out if Geralt doesn’t change his bandages often enough.

He’s already had to restitch some of them, and Roach made Geralt plenty aware of his dislike of that situation, so Geralt would like to avoid a repeat.

Jaskier huffs and lets go of his arm. “Fine. I’ll just...wait here, then.”

A smile tugs at Geralt’s lips. “Insatiable, hmm?”

Jaskier leans back against the pillows and sighs, looking at his lap pitably.

“I’ll be back soon,” Geralt promises.

Jaskier throws an arm over his eyes and turns over, making a rather uncalled for dramatic noise, if you ask Geralt. Geralt rolls his eyes fondly, trying not to let them catch on the planes of Jaskier’s back or the way the blanket drapes over him just so…

Geralt shakes his head and makes his way out the door, blinking his eyes against the cool early morning air. He walks along the rocky beach until the paddock comes into sight. He squints to see both Roaches leaning against each other as they sleep, and he smiles to himself. Roach had neighed and nipped at the intruder when Geralt had first introduced them, so he’s glad to see they’re getting along now. Jaskier would probably say it’s his fault they didn’t get along for rubbing his surly nature off on his horses, and Geralt would be inclined to agree.

As Geralt gets closer, he notices the sound of snapping twigs coming from the woods on the other side of the pasture. He stops and scans the tree line, but he doesn’t notice anything amiss. Probably a deer. He swings open the gate and latches it shut behind him as both Roaches blink at him sleepily.

“Good morning,” Geralt greets as he gets closer, stooping down to tug up a patch of clover to offer in his outstretched hands.

Roach gets to her feet instantly, snuffling into his left hand, and the other Roach follows her lead, sniffing at Geralt’s right hand tentatively. He starts to nibble at the purple flowers. When they’re done, Geralt examines the scraps of cloth, pulling it back so he can look at the stitches. It looks like everything is healing cleanly, and Geralt hums in satisfaction.

He stays with his horses for a little while longer, watching them navigate each other and making sure neither is being too ornery to the other. He huffs a soft laugh when the gelding prances around Roach in circles, until she headbutts past him to continue grazing without disturbance.

The sun is just breaking over the horizon when he starts to make the short trek back to the cottage, looking forward to waking Jaskier up properly.

Jaskier groans and blinks awake again at a banging on the door. He squints his eyes, trying to avoid the early morning light as he grabs his robe and stumbles toward the door, figuring Geralt has his hands too full to open it. He’s probably bringing home a fawn to nurse back to health, if the pattern holds. Jaskier snorts to himself at the thought. He wonders if Geralt could be talked into stew instead, but he imagines the pleading eyes Geralt would aim at him and already finds himself softening.

He swings the door open and is met not with Geralt and a deer, but a man with a scar and a rather portly goat.

The man scowls at him. “Where’s Geralt?”

Jaskier pulls his robe tighter around himself as his hackles raise. “Who’s asking?”

“That’s none of your concern. What is your concern is what I’m going to do to you if you don’t tell me. This place reeks of him.”

Jaskier raises his eyebrows. “You’re a witcher?” he asks. He looks at the man’s scar more carefully, then back down at the goat, munching contentedly on a stray dandelion growing through the stones. “Eskel?” he guesses.

He opens the door wider, gesturing for Eskel to come in. He does, hesitantly, and Jaskier waves a hand at the table, telling him to take a seat. Jaskier frowns at the goat that’s trailed in after them. “Geralt’s checking on his horses, but he should be back soon,” Jaskier says.

“And who are you?”

“Geralt’s…friend.”

Eskel looks him up and down skeptically. “Right. I’m sure Geralt tells all his friends about me.”

Jaskier’s cheeks burn, so he turns around and pulls a pot down from a cabinet before picking up the fire iron and poking at the embers. He throws a handful of wood chips onto the hot spot, and blows a gentle breath on them. They light, and Jaskier piles on some larger twigs. Once there’s a happy blaze crackling, he throws on a large log (that Geralt looked very handsome while chopping) and looks back to Eskel, who’s watching him carefully and petting the spot between the goat’s horns.

“Breakfast?” he asks weakly, willing Geralt to hurry up.

Eskel nods his assent, so Jaskier cracks some eggs into a bowl and slices some bread to toast.

“So. What are you looking for Geralt for?” Jaskier asks conversationally.

Eskel shrugs. “Haven’t seen him in a while. He didn’t come to Kaer Morhen last winter.” Eskel looks at Jaskier accusingly, and the tips of his ears turn red to match his face. “I heard he was shacking up somewhere around here, and I need help with a contract, anyway.”

Jaskier stirs the eggs more vigorously. “Oh?”

“Pack of drowners; more than I’d like to face alone. Besides, it’s perfect that you’re here, actually, you can watch Li’l Bleater for me.”

“Li’l—excuse me?”

“Li’l Bleater. She’s pregnant, so I don’t exactly want her in the thick of things.”

Jaskier looks at the goat’s rounded stomach more carefully, noting the way she’s starting to bag up. He scratches his neck. “Well, Geralt’s really the one who’s better with animals. I don’t think—”

“Nonsense. You won’t even notice she’s here.”

“Not until she gets placenta all over my floor, I imagine.”

Eskel scoffs. “She’s not due for another couple weeks at least. She’s not nearly wide enough.”

Jaskier can’t see how she could still walk around if she gets wider, but he’ll take Eskel’s words at face value.

“Besides,” Eskel continues, “she eats the placenta.”

Jaskier feels faint at the idea. He turns around and pokes at the eggs, deciding they’re done. He scrapes them onto three plates and puts toast beside them, feeling proud he didn’t burn anything for once.

He’s just setting the plates on the table when Geralt bursts in. His face immediately twists into delight at the sight of Eskel, and that dashes any hopes Jaskier had of them not gallivanting off together..

Ah, well. He supposes it will be good for Geralt to get out; he avoids the tiny village and its market like the plague, and Jaskier can’t say he doesn’t know why.

Even when Jaskier goes by himself, he’s still greeted with whispers and drawn faces, so he can see why Geralt prefers to skip it altogether. If Geralt did go with him and anyone dared to say anything to their faces, Jaskier would be forced to make a scene, and he doesn’t think Geralt would appreciate that very much.

He jerks his attention back to Geralt and Eskel, where Geralt is leaning down to give Li’l Bleater a hearty scratch, because of course he is. Jaskier plunks himself down in the wooden chair and sullenly eats his eggs, mollified when Geralt’s hand lands on his thigh and starts to rub circles into it with his thumb.

“—Shouldn’t be gone more than three days,” Geralt is saying as Jaskier bites into his dry toast.

It tastes like dust. “When are you leaving, then?”

Geralt looks to Eskel. “As soon as possible,” Eskel answers.

Jaskier wipes his hands on his pants and stands up, sighing. Geralt shoots him a concerned look, full of questions, and Jaskier is sure he’s two seconds away from saying he doesn’t have to go. Jaskier knows the itch under Geralt’s skin has been intensifying, knows that for all Geralt isn’t meant to stomp from contract to contract, never taking a break, he’s not built for being just a farm hand, either.

Jaskier shoots him a reassuring smile and tentatively pats Li’l Bleater on the head. “I’m sure we’ll be able to manage without you for a few days.”

Geralt and Eskel stand up, too, and Geralt closes his hand around Jaskier’s wrist. “Don’t burn the place down,” he says.

A smile twitches at Jaskier’s lips, because that’s proof Geralt is coming back. He’s not going to go out and get the wanderlust from his younger years, he’s going to return to Jaskier. Good thing, too; Jaskier can barely take care of himself, much less the animals Geralt is amassing. Now they’re up to three for sure, and Jaskier is fairly certain he’s seen a dog trailing around behind Geralt. As long as it doesn’t end up at the foot of their bed, Jaskier is content for Geralt to do whatever makes him happy.

Jaskier glances at Eskel, who’s staring at them both, but he’s not going to let Geralt run off without a kiss. To his surprise, it’s Geralt that leans in to press his lips against Jaskier’s. Geralt pulls back, tugging at his hair and giving Jaskier a bashful grin.

Jaskier pushes playfully against his chest. “Be safe, you sap.”

Geralt grunts, the tip of his ears turning red, before he drags Eskel out the door. The door slams shut behind them, but not before Jaskier hears Eskel teasing Geralt. “Is that your boyfriend?” he sings.

There’s a solid thwack sound, and a, “I’m just jerking your chain, Geralt,” before they’re out of earshot, and Jaskier turns to Li’l Bleater.

They stare at each other until she creeps forward to nibble on the edge of Jaskier’s doublet.

He sighs. He can deal with a chew-happy goats. As long as she keeps her kids inside of her until Eskel returns, they’ll be fine.

read the rest on ao3 here!

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lil bleater #geralt is a horse girl at his core #fanfiction #fluff

35 notes · View notes

oftenderweapons · 4 years

Text

Where, When and How - hyung line

Pairing: hyung line member x reader

Wordcount: 1k words each, circa

Genre: (hinted/mild) smut, fluff, lowkey angst

Rating: suggested 18+

Hello lovelies! Since quarantine is separating many lovers all around the world I thought about how the boys would handle being away from their girlfriend. It’s obviously smutty. Every piece is about 1000 words each.

Trigger warning: smut, hinted and sometimes pretty descriptive, really it depends. LOADS OF SEX TOYS (it was supposed to be a sex-toy themed thingy because yay!self-love and yes, you can use them together with your significant other too), some mild bdsm here and there, praise kink (you know where it comes from), swearing and alcohol (nothing extreme, just tipsy), masturbation and that should be pretty much everything. Should I put a disclaimer for a slightly subby Jin and sugar daddy Hobi? (Lol, help)

You can find the maknae line here

Psst--- here is my masterlist

Namjoon

"There's a package for you, sir."

"I don't think I've ordered anything. Is there a name on it?"

"It says it's from miss ___."

"Oh, she didn't mention it but I guess I can call her. Just a second please."

He wasn't sure you were going to be awake but at least he would try. Luckily you picked up.

"Hi baby" you mumbled.

"Hello princess. Have you sent me something? Like a package?"

"Oh, it's already there? Yeah, I didn't tell you because it was supposed to arrive tomorrow."

"So it's mine? You sent it? For me?"

"Yeah, but can you wait to open it until next call? I really wanna see how you're going to react!" You said sweetly.

"So I'm just supposed to wait?"

"Yes, Joonie. Wait, how's your schedule tonight?"

"Maybe grabbing a bite with the guys, I don't know. But I could tell them I'm busy and have dinner with you."

"You get dinner and I get lunch..." You murmured thinking about the time difference.

"Right, yeah. Or I could join you later, have a quick bite with the boys and then come to you."

"As you wish."

"'kay babe, see you later."

"See you."

Namjoon got his package and retired to his room quickly. The boys had been in Los Angeles for three weeks now, working on their latest album and you had been missing Namjoon like crazy. After a video call where every single one of his smallest moves felt like a tease, you decided it was time to act. And that's what the package was meant for.

It was almost one pm in Seoul, you were sitting in front of your laptop, spread out on the bed munching cherries and waiting for your boyfriend to call you. Meanwhile your boyfriend was someplace in LA, it was nine pm and Hoseok was trying to drag the whole crew to some relatively private club nearby to chill and have fun after dinner.

"Please, my girlfriend is waiting on me, Hoseok."

"Come on, just a drink!"

He couldn't say no to some group time.

That's how he found himself definitely tipsy at three am dragging himself from the minivan towards the hall of the villa the boys had rented. When he saw the package laying on top of the table he went completely still for a couple seconds. He quickly picked up his phone and called you right away, squinting at the light and hesitating a little before pressing. Again you picked up. He thought you must be an angel for actually picking up.

"Hello Joon."

"I'm so sorry." He spit out. You could immediately recognise his tipsy voice.

"You were out with the boys, I knew it would never be a "grab a quick bite then I'm all yours" kind of thing."

"Good god baby, you're so good to me."

"Put me on videocall you buffoon, I wanna see your pretty face." You whined on the phone.

"Your voice is strange, were you sleeping?”

“I fell asleep waiting on you. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Why, baby?”

“Hate sleeping without you. I only crash when I’m too tired. I’ve been thinking I should put a futon or something in my home studio so I can sleep there when you’re not around. Our bed is so wrong when you’re not here.”

“I’m so sorry, love.”

“It’s okay. Oh, there he is!” You squealed when the camera turned on. “God, if I were there I’d leave so many bites on those collarbones.”

“You’re turning steamy, love. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I might have drank some wine while waiting and I didn’t properly have lunch.”

“Why not? Not hungry? And how much wine?”

“Maybe a little more than half a bottle of that Cabernet Sauvignon that I got for our last night before the trip.”

“Can’t blame you, it was delicious. Are you naked?”

“Have you checked the weather? It’s been over 30 degrees in Seoul for the last three days, even my nails are sweating.”

“Not complaining. Bless me, do I miss those thighs…”

“Don’t you wanna open your gift Joonie?” You teased, covering yourself a bit in your white sheets.

“Yeah, right”. He sort of wanted to open other things. Still, he fumbled a bit with the package and the box, mostly trying to unwrap the box one-handed. Then he propped the phone on the table, not without making it drop screen-down on the table a couple times, and then, finally two-handed, he managed to unwrap the tape.

“Is it…?”

“Yeah, go on.” You bit your lip and he noticed.

“God, you’re evil. Such a tease.” He opened the case and noticed the artsy design fleshlight you had so shamelessly selected and bought for him. “You’re unreal. My clever little vixen. Can’t wait to get home and fucking wreck you.”

“I know it’s not me, but it’s the best alternative.” You smiled and batted your lashes, now letting some of your body show on the screen, still he could only guess where your spare hand had slipped to.

“You’re a fucking blessing. I’m so thankful, love. You’re the best. Damn, that brain of yours. I love how open and smart and confident you are. One hell of a woman playing the babygirl. So sexy.”

You were literally melting at all the praises he was being so prodigal with. “What do you think? Would you like to lay down, relax a little and try whether you like your new toy or not?”

“That’s it. I love you, you cute little brat.” As he got into bed you let him see your naked chest, almost making him trip on his pants and fall.

“Be careful daddy, it would be a shame if you hurt yourself.”

“You’re soooo getting spanked when I get back home.”

“I hope that’s a promise.”

The experience was… satisfactory.

Jin

His girlfriend was a delicate, delicate flower. She was cute and classy and shy. Funny, kind, timid and clumsy. But most importantly pure and innocent. She didn’t look like the type...

So why did he find a very wide choice of sex toys in her bedside table? Some of those things were so complicated he didn’t quite understand how they worked. Like that purple little… or the other, the small cup thing with that sort of screw on top. There was something for any and every taste and kink, at least he thought so. Something like fifteen pieces or so, some of them causing a blush to creep up his neck and ears. He thought his ears were actually on fire.

Most importantly, it’s not like he was looking for this. Especially since you were abroad, and thinking of you using these… after two weeks apart he was ready to catch a damn plane just to watch you use them. He didn’t even need to be the one actually using them on you. Or just using you. He just needed… something. He just needed to survive one more week. Come on, Kim Seokjin, a week is not that long. But that’s what he was thinking in the afternoon while standing in front of your wonder collection. Now it was almost two a.m. and he couldn’t help but keep thinking things that made him shake his head and puff heavy breaths and twist and turn in the sheets. He was tangled up.

“What can I do?” He asked Yoongi the following day after a couple drinks.

“Well, I know what I would do.” Jin turned to him, giving him full attention. “If it were my girl, I’d find something for her, something unique, something that’s gonna become her favourite thing beside myself, and have it sent like straight away.”

“But we never talked about this before.”

“Don’t you know what she likes? What makes her crazy out of her mind?”

“I don’t know man, it’s like a huge plot twist to me. Completely out of the blue.”

“Still you both enjoy your intimate life, I guess.”

“I don’t know, I’m confused!”

“Damn, do you like fucking her?”

“Hell yes. But don’t ever mention my girlfriend and fucking in the same sentence again.”

Yoongi posed the following question more carefully: “And does she enjoy what you two do together?”

“I hope so.”

“Fuck, are you dumb or something? Does she orgasm?”

“I guess?”

“You guess? What the actual fuck, Kim Seokjin! Do you even communicate?”

“I thought she was too innocent to actually have toys. Go figure openly talking about … that.”

“Do you mean sex?”

“Yeah…”

“Are you sure she’s the innocent one? And you’re not just shy? Maybe a bit of a traditionalist?”

“It’s not like I talk about sex that much.”

“Get yourself a bottle of soju and go have that conversation. You can thank me later. And please, before making me your couple therapist, try actually talk with your girlfriend. I don’t know how I’ll erase the idea of you analysing furred buttplugs and nipple suction cups.”

“God, you’re dirty.”

“And my girl is very thankful for that. Because we actually had the kink conversation. And we update it monthly.”

After a grunt and a couple more drinks, Jin reached his apartment. Immediately he texted you. “You up?”

You replied immediately. “I was going to bed. Want me to call you?”

“Do you mind?”

“No. Wanna hear you. Wanna see you.”

He immediately softened. Man, he was a goner for you. He called you instantly.

“Hi sweetheart. How are you?”

“I’m well, a bit sleepy. I miss cuddles.”

Longing hit him as soon as he saw you. “Me too. I think we need to talk about something though.”

“Oh god, you found that white shirt I messed up in the laundry, I swear I’m super sorry about that, I know you don’t want me to do the laundry because you always do that—”

“It’s not that. It’s okay by the way, I already knew and it’s not important. Pink is nice, pink is good. I like it. It’s about ehm… I guess I’ll just show you.” He headed for the bedroom, stumbling a little.

“Darling, did you drink?”

“Night with Yoongi.”

“Okay” you replied warmly.

Turning on the lights, and flipping the camera, you were shockingly faced with your collection of, ahem, toys. “You found… that.”

“You mean those. As in many. As in a lot.” He replied.

You were suddenly very quiet.

“Do you think our sex life is unsatisfactory?”Jin’s voice was low. And very sad.

“No. It's not… Those were before you. Actually I only use them when I can’t have you. When you’re busy or abroad or staying at the dorms and too tired to come home. I like what we do. Me and you. But sometimes I’d want to use them with you. I want to share but you always made me think you were repulsed by the idea—”

“How could I possibly be repulsed by the idea of my girlfriend having an orgasm? Tonight Yoongi asked me if you like our intimate life and I didn’t fucking know.”

“Great, Yoongi knows about this… Well — also, of course I enjoy it. I love you and I love the way you make love to me, and I've never faked pleasure. Because I feel safe enough that I can tell you ‘I’m not done yet, please’ and half a second later you’d be knuckles deep inside me while I’m seeing stars. Pleasure is not an issue, but I wish we had the intimacy to talk about this stuff together. But you always seem so off.”

“Do you have anything with you?” He asked without thinking.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean if you keep all this stuff at home I think you must have brought some piece of your collection with you.” He said, curiosity in his voice, without judgement.

You were confused, surprised by the turn of events. “Lemme.” You rummaged in your bedside table, coming up with a small mascara-shaped object.

“Is that a vibrator?” He asked. You nodded. He sat on the bed and started exploring your collection, asking you questions about some of the objects, why you liked them, what was their specific purpose, what sensation did they give you. It didn’t take long for him to grow confident and desperate enough to ask you to use your own travel toy while he explored your collection.

Jin’s mouth hanging agape, two nipple suction cups and a tickler running along his inner thighs were a vision you weren’t going to forget for a while, especially as he was touching himself and having the time of his life.

Yoongi

He was a mess. A mess and he couldn’t wait to get a shower. Though when he entered his apartment he saw the package on the table and he immediately felt a wave of relief as he noticed you hadn’t opened it and he had a couple hours before you got home.

He opened the package carefully and immediately went for the instructions, which he read thoroughly and carefully. All he needed to do was relax and let himself get carried away. So he moved to the bedroom, splayed a thick towel and got everything ready. He scrolled through his phone gallery, finding an absolutely anonymous picture (anonymous to anyone but you and him). One of your pretty hands was wrapped around his wrist as he pushed your chin up, the other was at the base of his dick, the tip laying softly between your lips. No details of the picture could ever reconduct it back to the two of you, still, you both knew. Stroking himself, Yoongi started thinking of all the things that he would do to you before he left for the tour and after he got back. All the things you would do for him when he would come back. It didn’t take long before the tingling started. That’s when he stopped.

Putting on the ring had him clenching his teeth and releasing one very strained breath. Then he got the cylinder ready. Pouring the gel was a difficult — and sensitive — matter. A work of accurate self control. But he was determined and absolutely meticulous in the process. After five minutes he slipped out of the gel mould and finally removed the cockring. Thinking for a second, he put it aside. Could come in handy later.

After making sure that the mould was perfectly dried, he poured the medical silicone in it and let it dry, making sure that the bullet vibrator imprinted the perfect slot for insertion. When the timer rang, he attentively removed the silicone part from the gel mould, surprised by the quality of the result. He immediately knew you would adore it. Especially since you could decide to use as a plain, regular dildo or a vibrating one.

But it wasn't meant to be used yet. So he waited for it to be ready and then he moved it into a classy silken pouch, and with a small smirk he put it into a gift box with a nice little bow on it. He proceeded to hide it somewhere you would never look, inside the highest cabinet in the kitchen. It was empty and unused, so he thought it would be safe enough.

A few weeks later he thought it was time for you to receive your grand prize. You had been exceptionally well-behaved, always respecting his schedule, negotiating peacefully over time zones and daily routines. You had been awfully stressed over the new position you had applied for and when your boss finally confirmed your promotion, you immediately texted Yoongi, knowing that his phone was probably silent or in night mode. When he read the text he knew it was time to celebrate.

"I have a free afternoon, wanna skype?" He texted.

“Gimme five minutes, I’m getting out of the bathtub”

God, his knees were already weak.

“Did you celebrate?”

“A very solitary celebration. Ordered takeout, made myself a cup of tea and took a bath.”

“Lemme see~~~”

You opened the videocall, covered in a fluffy white towel, you hair bundled up.

“Hello____” He said, showing you that warm smile of his that made you miss him even more. “Congratulations.”

“Hello stranger! How’s it going? Free afternoon?”

“Yeah. Namjoon is out cycling with Jungkook, Tae is visiting a gallery. Hoseok and Jimin are having a spa day. I think Jin is either sleeping or eating.”

“And you’re staying in?”

“I thought I could have a nice time with my girlfriend...” He pouted and looked away, a hand nestled at his nape.

“Mh, define nice time.”

“I’m not sure but there’s something in the highest cabinet in the kitchen that might help you understand.” He licked his lower lip in that telltale way of his.

“Is it a surprise? A gift for me?” You headed for the kitchen with a small bounce in your step. As you climbed for the cabinet Yoongi tried to steal a glance of your naked body under the towel. He was borderline embarrassed with himself because of how he was salivating.

You squealed when you found your package and quickly jumped off.

“What is it?”

“Open it, kitten.” He had a dark and fond look in his eyes. It was the gaze that made you feel desired and loved. It was the way he told you he loves you immensely.

You smirked and undid the velvet bow quickly. The silken pouch made you even more curious. You pulled the strings and found a lovely, sober white dildo. The dimensions were to your liking, the lenght and girth feeling familiar on your palm. Yoongi looked at you with intent, waiting for you to realise.

"It looks beautiful, Yoongi."

"Look at the base."

"Oh my god, is that a vibrator?" You exclaimed, surprise and wonder in your eyes. "Dammit, I love you."

"I know, kitten. Do you think you wanna try it, princess?"

Only when you were halfway to your orgasm did you notice the extent of that familiarity, Yoongi's heavy breaths coming from the phone as you both got each other off. "It feels almost like you. The shape and the length and the girth. It's sooo good."

"I made a copy for you. Don't want anything but me inside you." With that you grew even more frantic and let yourself come apart for him.

Hoseok

Looking at you coming apart on the other side of the screen was bliss and torture. Hoseok hated everything about the trip to LA. Hated the fact that it had been unannounced and pretty much unscheduled. Hated the fact that you would be coming back to Seoul after a visit to your parents and he would be gone. Hated the fact that he hadn't had a taste of you in three weeks. He just wanted to feel your mouth on his. He felt like he had a million fantasies and almost no way to make them real.

He had sworn he would never, ever voice his concerns since it would only stress you more, and considered your current state you already had to be pretty coiled. You were at your fourth climax (usually you took a deep breath and stopped after the second) and as you let your back lay down on the bed, you murmured "I miss all of you. God, I miss your hands inside me. I need your tongue everywhere. Promise me we're gonna have one full week of oral when you come back. I miss your weight on my tongue." At this point you were simply crazed out with hormones and sleepiness. "It feels so cold. I feel like crying when you're not here to cuddle me after I cum. It's so lonely." His heart was breaking slowly.

"I miss you too, dear." He needed to do something. "Do you want me to send for you?"

"No, we both have to work. It's okay, I'll make it work. Maybe I could stay with my friends, hang out, spend some time together."

"You know you can take my clothes if wearing them helps."

"I don't know, it's sort of bittersweet."

"Just ten days and I'll be there. And then we can hide for a week and I'm gonna fucking feast on you."

You moaned and grunted like a baby, tiredness getting the best of you.

In the meanwhile, Hoseok had already started planning. It took him quite a lot of courage to start browsing. After some comment reading, and tutorials and recommendations he finally decided over the most fitting solution. Out of curiosity he explored further, his head cocked to the side and his brow furrowing over some more complicated and way less obvious objects.

He checked the shipping time and he wasn’t even bothered by the shipping fees for a one-day delivery. He checked out and tried to fall asleep. Obviously it was almost impossible.

Little did he know that, though your post-orgasmic slumber, you had just taken a very similar decision with a cute, satisfied smile on your lips.

The following day Hoseok with a puzzled expression collected his mail. Similarly happened to you, surprised to find a package at your residence reception.

With your lips puckered you picked up the package and checked the sender. As you saw Hoseok’s code name you thanked the lobby man and headed for the lift, taking a selfie in the mirror and sending it to Hobi.

“Flowerboy’s been thinking about me. Man, I must have put on quite the show the other night.”

Half a minute later, your phone blipped. “Princess’s been good and nice. But I must have been a good boy too... Maybe we could both improve our little number tonight. Do not open the box until I tell you.”

“Yes, sir. But you must promise me that you won’t open yours either.”

“Love it when you say that. Your wish is my command, princess.”

After dinner you were both itching to call, but you were afraid Hobi had a schedule or a night with the boys.

“Waiting for you, baby” he texted. That’s all you needed to start the call. You were on the sofa in front of your laptop, box on your lap.

“Hello ____.”

“Hello Hobi! How was your day?” You tried to make some small talk not to seem too eager. He was equally brief.

“Come on, aren’t you curious about your mail?”

“What about yours?”

“Come on, let’s do it together.” You both tore at the tape and counted to three before opening the lid. Your box was noticeably bigger while Hoseok’s was more discreet, since he had to travel and usually he didn’t leave much extra space in his personal luggage.

You blinked a couple times before starting to explore. “You said you missed my mouth on you. I found this thing that basically does it the way you like, it mimics oral outside and still teases you in the inside with a vibe.” He explained matter-of-factly. “And then I got toy cleaner and lube because safety first. Also, I got some stuff for when I come back. Like that ahem- set.” He meant the lingerie. You were speechless. He looked down as he addressed one of the topics that had repeatedly attracted his attention the previous night as he browsed. “I was tempted to get something else, too, but we’ve never discussed that, so I think we could talk about it first. I might want to try some mild restraints and I was thinking maybe I would start with something like an hairband, the tie from a robe or a plain simple tie for men. A ribbon. If you’re interested.” He was very serious and mature about this, stating his proposition and giving you enough space to step back, always the caring and responsible partner.

Still, Hoseok had repeatedly proved being an absolute freak behind closed doors and you could barely contain yourself at the mention of mild bondage. If it were for you, you would already be lying down with your wrists cuffed to the bedpost. Still-

“I think I wanna give it a try.”

“Yeah, and if we like it we can turn it up a notch and get something a bit bolder.”

“Of course.” You tried to process the content of your package. It wasn’t bad. Quite the contrary. But you were actually thinking about Hoseok buying this stuff, your sunshine boy Hobi browsing through sex toys websites and choosing based on what you liked and what he wanted to see you doing. “What about your gift?”

“Oh these! God I almost thought of buying them! Baby, you read my mind!” His smile was radiant and you felt appreciation flow through him towards you.

“It’s a set of six pockets, they have different textures, patterns and levels of softness. I thought you needed something small for when you travel, that you can use under the shower and that helps you relieve your stress.”

“That’s my baby, so considerate.”

“Also, toy cleanser and strawberry lube because I know your tastes.”

“You know me so well. Maybe we should just get them washed and get the party started?”

“With pleasure.”

Indeed.

#bts headcanons #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #namjoon imagine #jin imagine #yoongi imagine #hoseok imagine #bts imagine #bts hyung line #bangtan sonyeondan

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brideofcthulhu10 · 4 years

Note

Could you please do a lost boys scenario where s/o is babysitting overnight and the boys show up for some late night lovin 👀 please

Can do, my friend! First off I want to apologize to everyone right now for the slow in my posts, I’m literally pushing my way through a writers block right now, so I apologize if it comes out a little choppy. I am doing everything I can to make sure I can still push out at least one reply a day. I still have the childbirth post and the prejudice witches post in progress, so bear with me! Until then:

Lost Boys Visit Their Fem!S/O While Babysitting

18+ CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Situations and Themes, Mild Offensive Language

David

Happy wasn’t exactly the word to describe the sour grimace your boyfriend made when you told him you wouldn’t be on the boardwalk for the weekend.

“What do you mean? You aren’t going anywhere, are you,” he asked, arms crossed.

“Oh stop with the suspicions!” You rolled you eyes, stealing his cigarette from his mouth for a quick puff. “No, I’m not leaving Santa Carla. My aunt has to go on this dumb business trip and her sitter cancelled last minute. So, my mom volunteered me to watch my two younger cousins.”

David scrunched up his nose at the mention of you babysitting to little brats. So for an entire two and a half days he wouldn’t see you?

“Well what am I going to do,” he asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. You giggled, blowing a small puff of smoke his way.

“C’mon, you’ve had a few decades without me,” you teased, kissing him. “I’m sure you can handle two days with just the boys right?”

Apparently not.

When you were dropped off with your aunt’s you were met with a barrage of foam bullets to the face. Cue several hours of trying to wrangle the twin boys to do ANYTHING other than bug you. Water balloons, nerf darts, stealing the phone out of your hand! Eventually you were tempted to spike their apple juice with sleeping pills, but after letting them devour a pizza and run outside like psychos, and finally they passed out on the couch. Now, the task of carrying two 8 year olds up a flight of stairs.

“I... hate.. my...life,” you huffed with both of them hanging off of you. The shorter one was grasping your hair until it was practically being yanked out of your scalp while the other drooled all over you. Too bad you couldn’t toss them in the back yard, the little animals! No, you laid them in their beds much to your frustration. Half awake you sighed, trudging back down the stairs for a quick snack before bed.

Change of plans when you heard the familiar roar of a revving motorcycle, and you made a mad dash to lock the door. He better not show up tonight! If those twerps woke up you’d be in so much trouble, there’s was no about of bribes to keep them quiet! There wasn’t much of a point to locking him out, because as soon as you turned around there David was, lounging on the couch.

“You are unbelievable,” you huffed, arms crossed.

The vampire only shrugged, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I got bored after we went hunting,” he sighed, laying back like a lazy cat. You wove through the living room over to him, and before you could even lecture him he yanked you down on top of him.

“David, come on! You are going to get me in so much trouble,” you whined, trying to sit up. “I promise on Monday I’ll make it up to you.”

David leaned his head back, pondering your offer. Another day of waiting? Pass.

“Tell you what, kitten,” he purred, lifting your chin. “I get to play with you, and I’ll go.”

Your entire face turned red. “Are you nuts,” you whisper-yell, smacking his chest. He simply shrugged, laying back again with you tightly grasped against him. “David, I am not-! What if they wake up?”

“Those are my terms, kitten. Take it or leave it.”

His gloved hands ran over butt, kissing up the edges of your neck. He kept whispering sweet words in your ears sending chills throughout your body. From your backside he slid his fingers further rubbing at your entrance between your pants. You started to squirm, caught in his grasp as he turned your legs into jelly. “Okay.. j-just please keep quiet,” you beg.

“It seems the only one making noise is you, baby,” David teased, lightly biting your neck. Teasing you was all fine and dandy, but he wanted to get to the meat of it. With one firm hand, he yanked your shorts off and raised you on top of his lap. It didn’t take long for him to thrust inside you, hands tightly grasping your wrists in place so he could watch you bouncing atop his lap. Your voice trembled, little whimpers escaping out no matter how hard you tried to stay silent.

“Come now, we mustn’t wake the children,” he teased, rocking his hips against your own savoring those adorable little moans. He yanked you down onto his throbbing length, wrapping his hand behind the back of your neck and yanking you down again. You buried your face into his chest hoping it’d be enough to silence your moans. Again he slammed inside you until your eyes started rolling back, filling you with a rush of heat. Your thighs spasmed, still clinging to his shirt. David simply chuckled after reducing you to a panting mess, licking up the side of your neck. “Well, I guess I could wait a day for you to get off of babysitting duty.”

Dwayne

A late night without you never was an option. When you told him you'd have to babysit your neighbor's five year old son, he immediately offered to join you. Now you weren't exactly supposed to have guests over, but you couldn't help but make an exception for him. Besides, bed time was at 7 o'clock anyway, you were certain he'd be asleep by the time Dwayne showed up. You weren’t exactly surprised when rather than knocking he just sort of appeared in the kitchen, but things didn't exactly go as planned. See, you had only met this boy maybe three times, he was either with his parents or off at daycare during weekdays. At neighborhood gatherings or barbecues you didn’t exactly interact with the younger kids, and any free time outside of that was spent with Dwayne and the other boys on the boardwalk. Sure, you had babysat kids before. It was the easiest way to scratch up some spending money. But your younger brother was nothing like this spaz! Even after a trip to the park, a bath, dinner and playtime he was still running around like he had been hopped up on sugar for the past two hours! Any time you told him to calm down he’d just tune you out or try to run away. Dwayne showing up was the first moment of peace you’d had since you came here, just plopping the tiny monster on the couch with a sippy cup of warm milk hoping that’d be enough to calm him down.

“I honestly don’t think that kid has heard the word ‘no’ before in his life,” you groaned at the table, trying to soothe your headache with a cup of coffee.

Dwayne raised a brow, leaning over to see the tiny terror jumping up and down on the couch screaming the theme song to Transformers while it played on their television set. “Well you could always just put him in his room and lock the door until he passes out,” he suggested with a smirk, sliding into the chair beside you.

You snickered, lightly elbowing him with your arm. “God I wish. Got any vampire secrets? You had to have had trouble getting Laddie to sleep at some point, right?”

“Well,” he started, leaning back in his chair with a hum to his tone. “There is one way, but you might not like it.”

“I’ll do anything to get that monster to sleep. Just.. don’t hurt him, kay?”

Dwayne chuckled and kissed beneath your ear, lightly nipping your earlobe. “Relax, I’m not gonna eat him or anything.When he slunk into the living room you peered around the corner watching him squat lower so he was looking right into the boys eyes. This was definitely the first time he had been still all night, just staring back while Dwayne whispered to him with gleaming red eyes. CLimbing down the little boy walked past you.

“Good night, Miss Y/N,” he mumbled softly, handing you his sippy cup before silently shuffling up the stairs to his room. You looked over at Dwayne with your mouth open in awe, setting the cup on the table as he waltzed into the kitchen. “Okay, you have to stay the night,” you insisted, leaning against the counter. “What even was that?”

“Just a trick David and I have picked up after a few decades.” He swept behind you with his chin resting on your shoulder, brushing his mouth over the crook of your neck. “Truthfully I could use it on you, but I find that your own will is far more preferable.”

“Well,” you began, slowly turning to face him. “Lucky me.”

You trailed your lips slowly across his, stealing away small pecks from him. Each kiss deepened into something more, his hands trailing up your waist until he firmly hoisted you onto the kitchen counter. His tongue traced over yours in spirals, massaging his hands over your butt with the other trailing up your shirt tracing over the tiny lace detailing in your bra. Chills ran down your neck as his fingers dipped into your bra playing gentle with your tender pink buds. You moaned into his mouth, barely able to catch your breath as you slung your arms around him, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Dwayne,” you moan softly, pressing your chest into his calloused palms. It was dizzying being under his thumb. He knew every curve of your body, every tender space that made you melt. Shedding your shirt you quickly kicked off your shorts, Dwayne lifting you up in his arms. You could hear his belt buckle clink against itself while he scooted your panties to the side. You’d think by now you’d be internally prepared for how he felt inside you, but every time he would stretch you further than before. Waves of heat burned your body, falling into his grasp becoming a moaning mess. You struggled to keep yourself quiet, crashing your lips into his. Those rough, heavy grunts he made drove you crazy, you knew what was coming the faster he groaned. He bucked into you, grasping your butt tightly slamming himself into you one last time. The sensation made you shriek, quickly he covered your mouth. There was an awkward silence that caused you both to laugh, kissing each other softly. “Well, I’m uh,” you panted out, still clinging to him “,..I still have a day and a half here...if you wanna stay with me… All I have to do is keep the curtains shut..”

Dwayne pondered your idea with a grin, smothering your cheek with sandpaper kisses. “I guess the guys won’t mind if I’m gone for a little longer.”

Paul

“Forget it, Paul!”

You crossed your arms, your blonde vampire boyfriend on his knees still begging you to let him come with.

“Oh come on, babes,” he whined, hugging your leg. “You’ll be halfway across town for four days! I’ll never make it!”

“No way! Last time you came to my house my brother totally saw us in the pool,” You exclaimed, gathering up your jacket and purse. “Paul please, I promise when I get back we can fuck till the ocean dries up if it makes you happy. But my parents got really suspicious the last time my brother kept talking about me ‘wrestling with a lion’ in the pool. It took an hour for me to convince my dad I was trying to fish the neighborhood cat out of the jacuzzi and B/N just thought it was a lion because he was half-awake!”

Paul groaned, lifting you up into his arms and flopping onto the dusty old couches, hugging you tight. It certainly made you laugh, but you knew that your parents were leaving in an hour. “Uuuugh! Can’t you even say tonight, kitten? C’mon I’ll even skip the hunt tonight, just you and me baby girl.”

“I know you want me to stay babe, I do too. Trust me, I’d rather be out here with you guys,” you sigh, kissing up his neck until he slowly melted beneath you. Ironically his neck was always his weakness when you wanted him all buttered up. “But, I mean, my mom and dad leave in an hour, plus I gotta pick up something quick for dinner, and I promised I’d do laundry- plus I still have my biology project before summer finishes. Besides, it’s only a couple days right?”

“Yeah, a couple days without the most badass babe in Santa Carla,” he groaned, hoisting himself up trying to grab you before you got up. No luck this time. You dodged his grip and quickly stole a kiss from him.

“I’ll see you in a bit, babe. It’ll be over in no time,” you assured him.

It had only been two hours since you left, and the entire time Paul was sulking on the exact same couch you both had been on. He jutted out his bottom lip in a pout, fiddling with the skull ring on his thumb you bought him last month. Marko did everything he could to cheer his buddy up. Beer, a bike ride, offering to go on a hunt! Anything!

“C’mon man, it’s a few days! Let’s go terrorize the locals! Dwayne and David wanna head out too, dude! We can shred up a few losers and crash here after!”

Nope. Paul wasn’t in the mood, rolling over onto his stomach, face down on the couch.

“Blood tastes like sadness,” he whined, thumping his forehead on the cushions.

“This is ridiculous, just go to her already,” David spoke up, chucking a book at him.

“No way, man!” Paul sat up, ruffling up his blonde hair. “If Y/N catches me she’ll be pissed!”

Marko leaned on his buddy with a smirk. “Not if you use her weaknesses against her. C’mon man, we’ve seen you two.”

“Yeah man, she’s my weakness-”

“- And you, are definitely hers dude. Trust me.”

Paul paused for a moment, then a wicked grin spread across his face.

Meanwhile, there you were cleaning up the dishes from dinner, your younger brother securely tucked in his room. This time you hid the cookies, just to be sure if he got up there would be nothing for him to stick his grubby little hands into. Well, it was 4 am, it was time to crash. You circled through the house checking all the locks and shut the curtains, and now it was time to head to your room. Up the stairs, to the left just past the guest room, stepping over your clothes and snatching a night dress. You paused, seeing the double extra large Warrant T-Shirt Paul bought you during last year’s concert. He found the perfect one, a “Cherry Pie” album art on the front with the back reading “She’s My Cherry Pie”. It was your favorite song from the album, and he started nicknaming you as such. You preferred one that was super huge, the perfect size for bedtime! With your own rock box on full blast you sang along to Def Leppard in the shower, unaware you had left your window wide open.

You waltzed out, turning off the music and throwing on your shirt and wiggling on a pair of leopard print panties. Your steps slowed once you stepped into your room, curtains blowing in the breeze

“Damn that looks good on you.”

You screamed, nearly falling back to see Paul leaning against your wall looking down at you. “Paul,” you hissed, smacking his arm when he laughed. “It is NOT funny, I told you that you couldn’t come over!”

“But I wanted to.” You expected it to come out whiny. But instead, he was firm. This wasn’t he was asking you, he was telling you. “I wanted you baby… I need you”

You took a step back, only to have him push you back on your bed. As soon as you were down he was on top of you. “I can’t… stay away, kitten. I know you’re mad, but I just can’t.”

He ran his hands all over you, pressing his hand tightly against your panties rubbing at your clit until you were a moaning mess. “Please kitten,” his voice trembled in a heavy husk, licking at your neck “, Don’t send me away.”

It was impossible to resist him. Clothes were thrown off, Paul pinned you down by your throat and held you up by your ass. It was fast, hungry, he thrusted over and over inside you. He leaned down holding up one of your legs so he could be closer. His moans were so loud, they rattled in your ears. You couldn’t even tell what were your whines and his roaring moans. There were mischievous chuckles, Paul could help but thrive watching you melt beneath him. “Moan, kitten. Call my name, tell me how badly you want it.”

“Paul! Paul… Paul please- d-don’t stop! More, please!”

“There’s my pussy cat,” he growled, slamming all the way to the back of your womb until a sharp throb sent a wave inside you, spilling out onto the mattress. He panted, leaning over you with his hair falling in your face.

“You.. are such.. A brat!” You managed to catch your breath, slapping his arm.

“I told you four days is too much,” he snickered, laying his naked body on top of you.

You huffed, still stuck under him. There was no kicking him out, he’d just pop up again. “Fine, but you get to sleep in the laundry cabinet in the hallway with all the dirty clothes.”

“Ahhh so worth it,” Paul snickered

Marko

Well movie night went off without a hitch, just as expected. The boardwalk had a beach movie tonight at the amphitheater, tonight was a classic- Attack of the Killer Tomatoes! Marko savored you nestled in his arms, your giggle giving him life. You two shared an extra large jumbo pretzel with jalapeno cheese dip snickering as a guy was run over by a bulbous red orb. You glanced at your watch. Oh shit, 7:45.

“Shit, baby I’m so sorry, I gotta head out,” you quickly apologized, throwing on your jacket.

“Wait wait wait, what,” Marko asked, watching you tip toe over the sand onto the boardwalk. “Baby girl hold on, wait up!”

You paused, waiting for him to catch up onto the boardwalk. Oh right, you forgot to tell him! “Shoot, Marko I’m sorry I forgot to tell you,” You groaned, smacking the base of your palm into your forehead. “My mom and Dad left for two days, and my Auntie can only watch my brother until 8pm so I have to go watch him tonight.”

”You’re kidding me,” Marko groaned, knocking his head back. “C’mon baby girl, can’t I at least give you a ride back?”

The offer was sweet, but there was a roadblock. Your aunt was incredibly strict, your older cousin was twenty and still had to ask for approval when they dated new people. If she saw you riding up to the driveway on a stripped down motorcycle with your street punk boyfriend and she’d definitely pitch a fit to your parents. Granted you were sure that your mom and dad would love Marko if they met him, but hearing from someone else that your daughter is riding around the city unprotected with a biker punk with long hair may cause some premeditated negative judgement. “I can’t. But it’s only for the night, babe, I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assured him, taking his gloved hand into yours. “Meet me here, same time tomorrow? I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

Marko sighed with a half smile, stealing a kiss from you. “You bet baby girl. Go ahead.”

He leaned against his bike, half-waving at you as you trotted away. Paul returned to his bike with a soda in hand watching you run off while Marko waved.

“Hey dude, your date over already,” he asked, leaning over his shoulder.

Marko only smirked, biting at his thumb with a devious plan concocting in his head. “Mnah, I’m goin’ to her place a little later. I’ll catch up with you guys later, man.”

Your brother had already finished his homework and had dinner, it was just getting him to bed at this point. Once your aunt left you two hopped into the kitchen for a big ol’ bowl of popcorn and crashed on the couch for a quick video game marathon. You kicked his butt at Mario Brothers, and after a few hours he was out like a light. It was a pain in the butt carrying him down the hall to his room, flopping him onto the bed with a sigh. “Night, dork,” you softly teased, ruffling his hair. Okay, bed time.

You decided to finish the night out with a nice warm shower, tossing a bra and shorts on the back of the toilet. “Oooh,” you harmonized to yourself, kicking off pants, bra, panties. The warm water was so soothing, it pulled a satisfied hum from your throat. Slowly you ran your hands up your legs checking for any, going over any rough patches with a razor for that silky smooth finish. You paused for a moment, halfway through washing down your body when you could hear your dog, D/N, barking outside. On your tiptoes, you peeked out the bathroom window inside your shower meant to ease the steam plumes, watching him bounce, snarl, tugging at his leash. Lowering your feet down you gave a pause. There was no one outside. No one downstairs, and the doors downstairs were locked but… your bedroom window was left open

“Marko?”

“Polo,” the blonde exclaimed as he hung his head upside down from your window frame.

You stuck your head out of your shower curtain, blowing a frustrated huff out of your nostrils. “Marko, I’m in the shower. You couldn’t handle me being gone for half a day?”

Marko chuckled and swung down, hanging his legs through your window into your room. “What can I say,” he teased, hopping down. “You’re irresistible baby girl.”

While you tried to finish up he waltzed around your room, peeking into books, staring at framed photos, until he had an even better idea. Kicking off his boots he waltzed into the bathroom, able to see your naked form just behind that (print) shower curtain. “You look awfully lonely in there~”

You couldn’t tell if you were blushing from the heat or the suggestion of showering with him, but either way you were utterly flusters. “But what about the water- Will it.. I mean?”

“Holy water, baby girl. I’m a vampire, not the Wicked Witch of the West. Normal water isn’t going to hurt me,” he insisted, shedding his jacket.

You could hear the heavy leather slip to the floor. A deep breath dragged in, your heart racing. “Go ahead.”

The curtain rings made a metallic shhhrrrk, but you didn’t turn around as Marko stepped inside the stall with you. You could feel his hands trace up your exposed back sending a wave of goosebumps through your flesh. Slowly he pried your arms away from your torso and down to your side, sliding his hands around your waist.

His blonde hair clung to the sides of his neck, water pelting against cold flesh soon pressed up against you from behind. “Glad I came in.. can’t remember the last time I’ve had a shower,” Marko teased. His slippery hands teased your lower half. He dipped his fingers past your lips rubbing at your entrance until they slipped inside with ease inciting a high pitched moan from you. They hooked inside you, prodding at the most tender parts until you fell forward, using the wall in front of your beneath the shower head as a support. Marko savored the image of you bent over in front of him, gently kicking your feet apart. “Promise me you won’t be quiet, baby girl,” he moaned softly in your ear. When his fingers pulled out, something else pushed in. The sensation filled a hot pressure inside you, Marko grasping the back of your neck for leverage. The entire room echoed with your cries, fluids lost beneath the water. The sensation made your legs weak, Marko’s grasp barely keeping you up. He held you close to his body thrusting further inside you, kissing your ear whispering tender words that made you weak. Secrets, three little words too quiet for anyone but you to hear. The tension in your waist spread, tighter and tighter like a rubber band on the verge of snapping. You cried out Marko’s name knocking your head back into his chest when something hot filled your insides. There was a moment of silence when you two caught your breath, the shower’s water washing away any evidence. When you couldn’t move Marko lifted you into his arms, carrying you out carefully to your room. Somehow you both managed to get dressed before collapsing onto your bed together- not before sealing the windows, of course.

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hiddendreamer67 · 4 years

Text

A Life Worth Finishing pt. 1

(Read the prologue here)

Summary: Mint is a borrower living alone in an abandoned human home, surviving day to day in the spot she’s carved out for herself in this world. Bored out of her mind, Mint wishes for anything to change, and that wish is granted in the form of an intimidating visitor.

Check out this art of Cain and Mint by @starlightsruby!

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Mint woke up, as she always did, to the sun shining through the floorboards. She groaned, promising to herself to move her makeshift bed out of the sunlight so tomorrow she wouldn’t be woken. As with every other day she made this promise, the stuffed sock stayed in the same place.

Instead, Mint had more important matters to attend to now that she was awake. She prepared herself some breakfast, noting with a hint of despair that her berry preserves were running low. She’d have to go out and get more today, then. Along with swapping the laundry, dusting the tunnels, maybe replacing her bent grappling hook…

Yes, there were a lot of things on Mint’s To-Do list. Turns out that tends to happen when you’re a borrower living alone. Mint sighed, scooping some more of the sugary paste into her mouth and praying she didn’t have another crash later this evening. Her Ma might well have killed her for having such an atrocious diet. Well, Ma wasn’t here, and Mint wasn’t swimming in options anyways.

She threw on her bag, taking one last sweep of the room before heading out. Mint swatted at a few of the cobwebs as she went. Recently some spiders had tried to take residence near her home- no, thank you, that was not happening. The abandoned home was quite spacious and Mint was perfectly content with leaving the creepy crawlies to their devices on the other side of the home, but the back left corner of the house was hers alone.

Mint stepped out through the grate, shielding her eyes from the harsh sun. How dare it personally offend her. Taking her eyes off her great sky nemesis, Mint perused the garden alongside the side of the house. It was as abandoned as the rest of the structure, the plants long ago running wild, but there was still a plethora of blackberries and raspberries for the taking at this time of year.

Mint gathered up one in her hands, not caring about cleanliness as she took a large bite. The juice spilled past her lips, forming a ring around her mouth of that lucious purple stain. Long ago Mint had given up on trying to keep her appearance tidy. It was inevitable her clothes would become covered in stains of their own, and honestly with no one around to judge the only issue was keeping clean enough to be able to grab her rope.

The borrower wiped her hands on her pants, creating new stains before more carefully gathering berries up into a nylon net she had crafted from some materials upstairs. It helped her lug back large loads, filling the net to the brim before giving the bag a hard yank.

“C’mon.” She grunted, pulling it with all her strength back towards the grate. All her effort was for naught when the bag couldn’t fit through the bars, causing her to readjust the load. She tried pushing instead, spilling a few berries into the passageway but eventually proving successful. After an obligatory victory cheer Mint filled the bag back up, already dreading the walk back.

By the time Mint returned to her humble abode the moon had risen, making it much more difficult to see beneath the floorboards. Mint huffed, frustrated the berries had taken so long. She didn’t even feel like mashing them up, instead leaving that arduous task to be a future Mint’s problem.

She sighed, her stomach rumbling again about last being fed several hours ago. It was getting greedy, honestly. Mint remembered times when she was still wandering outside looking for a home and she would go days without food. If she survived then, she could survive now without some sugary treats.

Mint ate a bit of berry anyways, munching on the sticky flesh and feeling annoyed at her body. Survival was so boring. Every day it felt like the same sort of trivial tasks, Mint just going through the motions to keep herself alive- the bare minimum, really. She was never moving forward, never progressing. Nothing changed.

With a groan Mint threw herself back on her makeshift bed, the wrinkled fabric digging into her back. She didn’t care, instead focused on trying to see up through the cracks where the slightest of starlight was trickling through, just enough for her eyes to adjust to the dark. Then again, Mint had always had excellent night vision.

Mint thought about the world above her. She had traveled to the house above, of course, just not often. Mint had already mapped out every room. With no human beans about, the borrowings available never changed. All she really cared about was the dwindling sugar supply in the second to the left cabinet. Soon enough it would be completely gone, and Mint wasn’t certain what she’d do then. Perhaps it hadn’t been wise to get addicted to having such a sweet tooth. Well, at least no rodents had thought to invade and try to get at her supply.

The borrower girl sighed long and hard through her nose, counting warps in the wooden floorboards above her now. It was pathetic.

“I’m going to die unless something changes soon.” Mint declared, loud enough for any spirits to get her message. In a literal sense, there was a foreboding truth to her message. But mostly, it was a declaration of boredom, an air of frustration in the face of tedious repetition. It didn’t particularly help her mood, but Mint let her eyes shift closed anyways, figuring that maybe tomorrow would bring something interesting.

But then, there was a thud.

Mint’s ears twitched, instantly wide awake as she heard a foreign noise, rusted hinges squeaking so loudly they might have been crying out. Mint’s eyes flew open, listening to a rhythmic thumping increase in volume. Footsteps. Her eyes scanned the ceiling once more, as if that would allow her to see the giant intruder through the wood as she felt her entire world begin to shake. It trembled, and then just as suddenly as it came the being left to explore another part of her house.

“...What the hell?” Mint muttered, slowly sitting up. She refused to acknowledge just how fast her heart was still beating from that fright. It was startling, that was all! How was she supposed to predict a human bean would come traipsing through her home tonight? Honestly with how few she’d seen in the past few years Mint had begun to wonder if they had died out entirely.

Well, there was no use in getting to sleep now. Mint threw on her bag, unable to keep a grin off her face as the adrenaline hit. Now this, this was exciting. A bit annoying, perhaps, but even with the potential danger Mint didn’t care. In fact, she relished danger. This was what she had been missing, the idea of your life on the line every time you step outside your home. It wasn’t the same with the birds and the spiders.

Mint darted through the walls, quieter than a mouse as she scurried up the steps she had crafted from the various rusted nails in the walls. What sort of human was this, anyhow? If they were going to get in her way Mint might have to devise a way to run them out, which would be equally thrilling. Or perhaps they were only staying for a night of refuge before heading off into the world… maybe she should tag along just for the heck of it.

She laughed at the ridiculousness of such an idea. It was positively suicidal, and the idea of being so foolishly bold even in her mind made her spirits soar.

“Alright, alright, keep it together.” Mint whispered to herself, still wearing a ridiculous grin as she slowed her pace. As she was nearing the human rooms, Mint had the common sense left to be quiet. It wouldn’t do to blow her cover so quickly when investigating the intruder.

At first, Mint frowned, not seeing the human in the kitchen, which was just above her sleeping space. Guess this would take more trekking. Mint jogged through the walls, peering through nooks and crannies to try and catch a glimpse of her visitor. Mint gave a frustrated huff, getting annoyed after the first couple rooms proved fruitless. This house wasn’t that large by human standards- how could such a great lumbering being stay hidden?

Finally, finally Mint found her suspect in the sleeping space. She paused, barely breathing as her eyes adjusted to see the shadowed figure hunched in the room. The human wasn’t even trying to sleep at this late hour, instead messing about with the window across the room. They had laid their bag on the bed, a few of their belongings strewn about.

Mint got a better look at the giant stranger as they turned, the moonlight illuminating their figure for only a moment as they stripped one of the sheets from the bed. It was a man, looming higher than any person had the right to stand. He had long black hair and an abnormally pale complexion- was he sick? Had he come out here to die? Good lord Mint hoped not, that’d be impossible for her to deal with logistically. But the most notable feature by far were his eyes that seemed to almost glow with their bright red hue. They illuminated the scowl on his face, looking to all the world like a human bean any borrower in their right mind would stay far away from.

And as he turned, Mint took a few steps closer.

Her curiosity was piqued, heart racing as she struggled to comprehend exactly how dangerous this man was- he could easily crush her with his hand. Or his foot. Or any body part, actually. He could toss her or choke her or break her in any number of ways, every part of him being equally devastating to a borrower. Good lord she had forgotten how awful humans could be, nor how safe she had grown living by herself. This was a threat of the highest order to her kingdom.

But Mint had to be certain to know just what she was dealing with. She pushed aside the loose wallpaper, crossing the small gap between the wall and the shelf adorned with a smattering of dusty collectibles. Mint weaved her way amongst them, searching for a good spot to settle in.

If she wanted to survive the next few days (or even years, depending on how long this intruder was sticking around), Mint would have to learn everything she could about this human. She would need to learn his schedule inside and out, understanding what his motives were so she could always predict his next move and be one step ahead. One wrong move and she’d be toast.

A breeze shifted the bedroom door, causing it to slowly creak open. Faster than Mint could blink the figure whirled around, and with a sudden thunk the door slammed shut. It took all her willpower not to gasp, terrified and amazed as she stared at the long knife blade firmly wedged into the door. Instead she crouched behind the ceramic frog, deciding it was safest not to move lest that knife head in her direction.

C’mon, it was already a human for crying out loud- why did it also need to have a knife! It didn’t need to be any more dangerous.

The stranger stared at the door for several moments, looking almost shaken. Eventually he snapped out of his stupor, stomping over to the door with a scowl and shaking Mint’s hiding place in the process. Mint tried not to flinch at the sound of the ceramics clattering around her, watching the giant being yank the blade longer than she was out of the door like it was nothing.

“Lord, I’m such a-” The invader’s voice was lower than Mint expected, but it rumbled through her core in a way that was eerily familiar. Mint supposed you could never forget that feeling no matter how hard one tried. But, as soon as it was there, the stranger was already cutting himself off with a shake of his head.

He looked down at the blade, thoughtfully twirling it before returning it to a sheath at his hip.

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Ta-da! Hope you’re liking my newest characters! Very excited to introduce ‘em. What do ya think so far? :D

#original characters #a life worth finishing #alwf #writing #mint #borrowers #borrower #g/t #giant/tiny #vampires #vampire #cain

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adarlingwrites · 3 years

Text

Absolution

Summary:

noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment

The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.

XXVII

January 13, 2278.

Goddamn, not another killer hangover.

This time, I feel like a dozen brahmin trampled my skull. Never in my centuries of existence did I ever get this wasted. How did I even get home?

Opening my crusty eyes, I see the ceiling of Percy’s home, and looking down, I see Dogmeat lying on my chest, sleeping. I’ve been stripped out of my armor, wearing a clean shirt and pajamas that doesn’t reach my shins, and I feel clean. Damn, did Percy do that? I don’t mind, but I’m not a pretty sight to look at.

Sluggish as hell, I sit up, the dog waking up and giving my face a lick. I can smell something cooking, and damn, it smells good. My stomach grumbles, and I let out an awkward cough.

“Oh hey, Charon. You’re finally awake,” Percy calls out from the kitchenette.

Back turned against me, Percy was stirring something over the stove. I shuffled towards her, and pressed my cheek against the top of her head.

“Mornin’, angel.”

She gives me a soft chuckle. “It’s already the afternoon, big guy.”

Fuck. I slept for that long? “What happened last night?”

“I saw a mountain of a ghoul stumble around drunk in Gob’s Saloon, is what happened,” she replies, a lighthearted tone to her voice.

The events of last night came crashing back to me, and I buried my face in Percy’s hair in embarrassment.

I remember sitting next to Percy in the saloon, nursing my beer as she exchanged ideas with Moira. Half of what they’re talking about sounded out of this world. I can’t make any sense out of it, but it was nice hearing Percy’s voice. It’s good hearing her happy and enthusiastic again.

Then DeLoria’s goddamn voice breaks me out of my focus.

“Yeah? Yeah? I’d like to see you try, old man,” he blurts out from the other side of the bartop. What trouble has he gotten into now? Somehow, my instincts as a bouncer kicks in, and I stand up from my seat to look at what’s going on.

“You’re all bark and no bite, kid. Bet your ass would be on the floor before you can even finish a bottle,” said Jericho, the ex-raider.

Oh, a drinking contest. I thought I had a fight to de-escalate. Grumbling, I was going back to my seat, but DeLoria grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him.

“Well, I bet my buddy Charon and I can outdrink your crusty old ass.”

Boastful idiot. You just had to rope me in, huh?

“How much are you willing to bet, pretty boy?”

“Twenty-five caps,” DeLoria replies, setting it on the table. Laughing, Jericho set his money on the table too. “You’re on, asshole.”

“Hold on a minute, I don’t have caps,” I tell them. “I’m afraid I cannot participate in-”

Before I can even finish, the ex-raider flags Gob over. “Oy, Gob! We’re gonna have a drinking contest ‘ere, bring us more booze.”

Goddammit. I had considered taking a swing at DeLoria, but to my surprise, Percy saunters over with a grin.

A drinking contest huh? I’ve never done one before. Have you ever tried playing, Charon?”

“No. Usually, I’d be the one to break it up when one party’s already slumped on the bar.”

My partner gives me a conspiring grin. “Well, I’d like to try it. C’mon, big guy, let’s show these two how it’s done. We have caps to gain,” Percy replies, taking a seat next to me and tossing in fifty caps in the pile, covering my bet.

Gob set out four shot glasses in front of us, and people were starting to watch. If Percy is here, then I’ll make the most out of it. Maybe I’d end up carrying her tonight again.

Ten shots of vodka later, DeLoria washed out, stumbling off his seat and shaking his head. “Damn, I can’t do this anymore,” he blurts, running to the saloon door and shoving it open. He retches and the crowd bursts into laughter.

“Knew he'd wash out first,” Gob chuckles, refilling our glasses. Percy gently nudges me with her elbow, giggling.

“Hah! And the kid was the one to suggest the challenge too. Asshole,” Jericho mutters. “Just you, me, and the zombie, kid. Can you hold out better?”

“Call Charon a zombie again and I’ll fuck you up so bad, you’ll think getting attacked by a Deathclaw’s a back massage,” Percy slurs, eyes trained on the ex-raider. There was a hint of humor in her voice, but it was sharp; a guarantee that she’d follow through.

“Woooow. The little Vaultie’s finally all grown up, learning to curse like a true waster. First time you showed up in this town you were a pampered baby girl,” Jericho snaps back, snickering.

“And this pampered baby girl just took down the Capital Wasteland’s biggest slaver ring. Don’t try me, gramps. It’s time for the next round.”

That shut him up.

Eleven shots. Twelve. Thirteen. On the fourteenth, Percy raises both arms and shakes her head. “I’m at my limit,” she groans, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“And our amateur abolitionist is out,” Gob announces, taking Percy’s glass away. She slumps towards the bartop, turns to me, and gives me a thumbs up.

“Give ‘em hell, big guy!”

I found myself grinning at her encouragement.

We counted all the way to twenty shots. At that point, Gob was scratching the little skin he had left on his head.

“You two are gonna drink me out of business. Let’s do a tie-breaker,” he suggests. He turns to the shelf, and produces a bottle with green liquor in it. I vaguely remember serving a contract holder who drank that in Vegas and it smelled like death. He pours it in our glasses.

What the hell, is that absinthe? Isn’t he supposed to light that shit up first or something?

“Whoever can take a shot without puking their guts out later wins,” he announces, sliding us the drinks.

Jericho caught a whiff of the alcohol and his face contorts. Staring at the glass, I once again find myself questioning what went wrong in my life for me to get to this point, but I was having fun.

Three, two, one. The ex-raider and I drank the last shot at the same time, and I slammed the glass against the counter. Now the waiting game starts.

By the time it kicked in, I was seeing double, and Jericho fell out of his seat.

“We have a winner! Charon takes home a hundred caps!”

Everything around me is a colorful, rowdy mess. Nudging my shoulder, Percy grins at me and clings onto my arm. The best I could, I gathered the money and slid it towards my partner.

She gives me a questioning look. “Hey, it’s your caps big guy! Spend it on whatever you like,” Percy tells me, beaming, face flushed from the booze.

“Just… just hold on to it for now. Hell, spend it on something nice. I mean it,” I slur, resting my chin atop her head. At that point, I knew there were people whispering and gossiping about our closeness, and Percy probably knows it too, but I just didn’t give a shit anymore. I wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and she let out a soft grunt from the squeeze. My vision isn’t the best at that moment, but I swear I saw the red spread from her face to her neck.

“Okay. If you say so.”

The events after that were a blur. Vaguely, I remember DeLoria almost crawling back in and getting picked on by wasters before Hannibal Hamlin, pulled him into a corner and chatting with him. Moira was deep in conversation with some random waster, and Gob poured himself and Nova a drink, joining the merriment. I’m not sure if my mind had made it up, but the radio was playing some old Pre-War torch song, and I was holding Percy by the waist, shuffling drunkenly and clumsily in a dim corner.

We had a conversation. I’m still trying to remember what it was about.

“How did we get home last night?” I asked her, delicately brushing down her hair that I ruffled when I leaned into her.

“Believe it or not, Butch and I dragged you back. He’s still asleep upstairs.”

Ah. Well, fuck. What a sight that must’ve been.

Looking over her shoulder, I see some kind of brahmin rib stew in the pot. Behind me, I can hear the patter of Dogmeat’s feet. The dog must’ve caught a whiff of that, too. On the unoccupied part of the stove, there was toasted bread slathered with brahmin butter. I’d never thought I’d be grateful to still have my sense of smell and taste. Even after all that binge drinking from last night, my dry mouth started to water.

“You said that I could spend your winnings on something nice,” Percy quips, shaking me out of the memory of the night before. “So, I made us a nice lunch. Get the bowls out for me, please?”

“How could you even cook while nursing a hangover?” I muttered as I fetched the bowls.

“Good old salt, sugar, and water,” said Percy as she ladled the stew. “Get these to the table and I’ll make some more for you.”

“Thanks, angel.”

I could practically picture Percy rolling her eyes at the nickname as she reached for the green pitcher at the top of the shelf, her laughter soft.

I set the food down on the coffee table, the broken television that once occupied it gone, salvaged for parts months ago. Meanwhile, my partner goes up the stairs to wake our guest up. DeLoria drags his feet, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Then, he sets his eyes on me. His hair is a goddamn mess, unlike the pomaded hairstyle he usually wears, and I couldn’t fight the urge to snicker.

“Oh. Hey. You were a bitch to carry back,” he mumbles, taking a bowl. He carves the meat out of the rib, slaps it on the bread, and eats. Percy joins us soon after, bringing a pitcher of the hangover cure.

I took a bite out of the food and fuck, this might be too luxurious for me.

“You should open a diner after you’re done kicking ass, Perce,” Butch comments offhandedly, using the bread to wipe the sauce off the bowl.

“I’d rather run a clinic, honestly.”

The two chattered idly, and Dogmeat was having his share of food as well, unseasoned scraps of meat and a bone to gnaw on. My focus shifts back to the two when Percy nudges me.

“What do you think, Charon? Should we bring Butch with us to Lamplight?”

“No. There’s no room on the bike.”

“Aw c’mon, you’ll draw attention to yourselves on that bike, plus you’ll need someone to watch your stuff from the kids.”

“Well, we could use a pack mule,” Percy comments, and Butch flips her the bird. “Hey, you said you’d watch our stuff for us.”

“Yeah, watch the stuff, not carry it or somethin’.”

Percy and Butch bickered for the rest of the afternoon as we prepared for our journey. Coupled with my hangover, the more I hear them chatter, the more annoyed I get. But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t amusing.

DeLoria’s still an obnoxious asshole, and I’m still figuring out what I feel for Percy, but hearing Percy crack jokes and exchange jabs with her childhood friend brings me some reassurance that things will be fine.

Snow was heavier than ever. The clothes Moira gifted us came in handy as we started our trek to our destination. Aside from the odd raider and mole rats loitering about, we faced no real danger on the road, much to my relief. Aside from protecting Percy, I have to look after the dog and Butch too.

I’m not letting what happened in Anacostia repeat itself.

We travelled fairly fast, but it was too deep in the night to continue any further. Making camp in an old power substation. As I cleared the fallen furniture and the debris, Butch unfurls the bedrolls, while Percy looted the place clean, starting with the first aid box, thorough as ever. We didn’t eat dinner. The meal we had this afternoon was more than enough to keep us from going hungry tonight.

Falling asleep swiftly, DeLoria’s back is turned to the wall, snoring. Percy lies in the middle, eyes closed, but I know she’s not asleep yet. I lie facing the door, keeping watch.

Fabric shifts next to me as Percy sits up. “Hey. We never got to finish the first book I was reading you.”

“Which one?”

“White Fang. The one with the wolfdog on the cover.”

Ah. She’s right. I fell asleep at the last chapter of the book as she read to me months ago, and we never picked it back up, moving on to another one.

“I have it with me in my pack. Do you want to finish it?”

“Gladly.”

Leaning against the wall, Percy reads as I nudged her clothed thigh with my head. Voice soft so she wouldn’t wake Butch up, she continued narrating what became of the wolfdog, the main character in the story.

After being ripped away from his mother and caring human, enduring Beauty Smith’s cruelty, and learning to trust his new human companions, White Fang finally lived. He lived an idyllic, carefree life, surrounded by puppies and sleeping under the sun.

In some ways, the wolfdog reminds me of myself. But unlike him, I didn’t have any masters to serve anymore, and got a partner instead.

Now, the only thing that’s missing is the happy ending.

But that doesn’t exist in real life, doesn’t it? Not in this shitsack world. So I’ll take any comfort that I can get, and right now, having Percy beside me is exactly that.

Fine. The dog too. And maybe Butch.

My eyelids growing heavy, I drifted asleep.

This time, the dreams didn’t have pain in it. Maybe it’s because of the book, or just plain stupid wishful thinking in my part, but I dreamt of Percy and I.

I dreamt of the world before it was ravaged by radiation, the waters of the ocean reflecting the blue sky above us. We’re on a beach in California, and a child collects seashells near the shore.

Just like I did when I was a child.

Beside me, Percy plops down a basket of food, hiding under the beach umbrella while I bask in the sun.

“Son! It’s time for lunch! Charon, will you fetch him, please?”

I smiled at my wife and shook the dust off me to get our boy. He laughs and shrieks as I carry him, seashells in his arms.

Looking down at the clear waters, I see myself. Thick red hair. Clear blue eyes.

Untarnished.

If only.

#lone wanderer #female lone wanderer #charon #fallout charon #charon fallout #fallout 3 charon #charon fallout 3 #charon fo3 #fo3 charon #oc: percy zhou #fanfic: absolution #series: through river acheron #fallout 3 #fallout #fallout fanfic #fo3 #writers on tumblr

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welcometophu · 3 years

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Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 7

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 7

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Nate leaves early in the morning, waking Pels enough to let her know that the leftover scones would make a good breakfast, and telling her to feel free to make tea before she goes. When she wakes again two hours later, there’s a note on her pillow with the combination for the garage door so she can close it after she leaves, along with Nate’s phone number scribbled below.

It’s weird being in this house alone. She stays curled on the air mattress on Nate’s floor for a long while, listening, just in case his father came home and is upstairs, but there’s no noise. She wonders if Nate even told him she was here. Probably not. Pels wouldn’t have, if she were in his shoes.

She finally convinces herself to get out of bed and go shower, spotting the lavender bubble bath next to Nate’s shampoo. It smells good, and it’s almost tempting, but she decides to just borrow Nate’s toiletries and shower quickly instead. She leaves her hair wet after toweling off, knowing that no matter what she does, it’s going to curl around her face chaotically because that’s what it does.

Once she’s dressed and shoving her clothes from yesterday into the dirty laundry in her bag, she realizes Dad is sitting on Nate’s bed.

“You should clean up before you go.” He nods at where her phone is half-shoved under her backpack. “Someone’s been trying to get hold of you.”

“Be useful,” she says. “Fold the blankets. Put the rest in the laundry.” She crawls over to her phone and tugs the charger from the plug in the wall, shoving it into her pack so she doesn’t forget it, then unlocks the phone to see the group chat with Shane and Jess.

When do you want me to pick you up? Nate sent me the address but he said you were sleeping still. I was still sleeping when he sent it. Maybe you’re awake now too?

Jess had added a picture of herself with bedhead and Shane in the background spread-eagled across her bed still asleep. The time stamp is an hour ago for that first message, and there have been several since, mostly pictures.

We’re spending the day in the Quad because it’s nice and the cats really like being outdoors, whether they are actually cats at the moment or not. Ángel and Hayley put up with it because they love them. We put up with it because well, we’re hanging out with them.

Pels checks the time. I’m just cleaning up here. Lie, since Dad’s the one leaving a neatly folded pile of blankets on the bed, and taking the pillowcase off the pillow she used. You could probably come get me any time. I’ll go outside when I’m done and wait in the driveway.

Great! We’ll see you then! Can you text Nate and let him know we want a box of pastries and I can swing by Teas Please to pick it up? I think he already likes you better than me. He literally thanked me for letting him have you stay over.

Pels’s fingers go still against the keyboard.

“You’re smiling.” Dad kneels at the end of the air mattress. He pulls the plug and pushes on it, the air whooshing out.

“I have literally never had anyone say that someone likes me better than them.” Pels shakes her head, trying to let it go, even though the thought is spreading through her warmly. Sure, she types back.

She helps Dad get the air out of the mattress, and together they fold it up and put it back in the box where it lives under Nate’s bed. She sends the text off to Nate, and gets back an affirmative. Once she’s outside in the driveway, the garage door securely closed behind her, she sits with the phone cradled in her hand, staring at it and trying to formulate words.

Hey. I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday. I really appreciated having a place to stay, and I had fun watching movies.

She should send thank you notes when people do nice things, right?

That’s what friends are for! Nate sends back. And Mallory is giving me the evil eye for hiding in the kitchen to text, so I’d better get back to work. The box for Jess is at the hostess station. Please tell me you ate something for breakfast. I cannot possibly eat all that on my own.

Pels looks down at the crumbs on the driveway. I stole the last cranberry scone and the little tub of clotted cream and I took a cookie for later, she admits. I hope that’s okay.

Totally fine! Have fun today. Let me know if you need crash space again tonight, or if you’re going to sleep at Jess’s, okay?

Right, there’s a question Pels isn’t sure she’s ready to answer. Okay, she sends back.

Logically, it’d be easier to stay in Jess’s room. She lives on campus. Pels could just walk over to the dorm any time when her access will be active again. Emotionally it’d be easier to stay at Nate’s. He made everything seem so effortless. It was kind of nice.

“Is last night what normal people feel like?” she asks, and Dad laughs. It’s such a strange sound that she looks at him, her brow furrowed.

“Last night is what you deserve to have normally,” he replies. “By the way, Jess is almost here.”

Pels shoulders her backpack and brushes crumbs from her shirt. By the time the car comes into view, she’s at the end of the driveway, bag in hand. The trunk pops open as Jess pulls up in her small sedan, all of her windows rolled down.

“Go ahead and toss your stuff in the trunk,” Jess directs, so Pels does so before climbing into the passenger seat.

It’s a newer car than Nate’s, and she’s able to adjust the seatbelt so it’s less likely to choke her, although it sticks and takes a few tries to get it properly buckled. Jess reaches over to help, and Pels draws back so abruptly that Jess stops dead.

“I’ve got it,” Pels says. There’s a sharp note in her voice, and Jess visibly deflates, leaving Pels wincing on the inside. “I mean. I just don’t want—”

“I get it.” Jess focuses on getting the car moving. “Boundaries. This is still weird.”

“I still don’t know why you have a crush on me,” Pels tries to explain. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“And you don’t actually like me at all,” Jess counters. “I get it, Pels.”

“It’s not—I don’t—” This is more like her usual life, floundering for words and wondering why Dad doesn’t pipe up now to try to help. He’s more than happy to push her into things, but less likely to provide words when she can’t find them. Pels crosses her arm, trying to make herself even smaller than she already is. “I don’t not like you,” she mutters. “I just don’t want to be forced to like you. There’s a difference.”

Jess’s grip on the steering wheel eases, and this time when she says, “I get it,” it sounds less resentful, and more understanding. “I can’t really understand why I have a crush on you either, if that helps. There’s just something about—I saw you and I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to get inside that wall you’ve got up all the time, and now it feels like you’ve built that wall even higher, but you’re peeking over it at the same time.”

“Sounds about right,” Pels admits. “I’m not good at this. Some people make it seem easy, but it’s not for me.”

“It’s okay.” Jess lifts one hand from the steering wheel, reaching towards Pels like she might pat her before Pels pulls away and Jess is left hovering there for a long moment. Jess carefully puts her hand back on the wheel and doesn’t say anything while she navigates to Teas Please.

There’s a short discussion while Pels gets out her wallet and insists on paying for the box Jess ordered. In the end Pels wins, because Jess stays in the car while Pels runs in to give Jess’s name to the girl standing at the hostess station.

It’s a tiny victory, but it feels like she did the right thing.

Jess takes Pels up to Ángel’s room instead of her own, so she can leave her things someplace safe before they head out to the big lawn between several dorms that makes up the Quad. There are several groups out there already, and a pickup game of frisbee at one end of the Quad. Jess heads to where Hayley is reclining on a blanket, leaning up one elbow talking to a tall boy who seems even more lanky in person. Hayley waves and the boy rolls over, coming to his feet before Pels gets there.

He takes the box from her, opening it up and grinning. “This looks great.” His smile is charming, and Pels feels like people must swoon when they see it. “Hi, Pels. I’m Luca.” He pokes through the box, his smile falling away. “No cannoli?”

“Cannoli tonight,” Hayley says. She lies back on the blanket now, her head pillowed on bent arms. “We’re going to order in from Minnisale’s and you can see how good our Italian is up here.”

Luca huffs. “Won’t be anything like the real thing we’ve got back home.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Jess tells him. “There’s a huge Italian community here, and Minnisale’s is one of the best. Third generation is running it now.”

Luca’s expression eases, like he might be appeased. “I suppose.”

“Where’s Shane?” Her voice sounds too loud, and Pels isn’t sure how to interpret the look Jess gives her when she speaks. “I mean—” Pels could try to explain, but that’ll probably just dig whatever hole she’s in deeper. “I just thought there were going to be more people.”

“For you to avoid,” Dad finishes the thought in an all too on-the-nose way.

“Shane and Ángel went to grab lunch to go with the breakfast you brought, and Tanner and Tony are picking up some drinks from the coffee place Ángel took Tony to earlier this week, because Tony really liked it.” Hayley pats the blanket next to her, on the side where Luca wasn’t lying just a few minutes ago. “C’mere, Pels. I don’t bite. I mean, neither do they, and I do spark a little bit, but it’s okay. We’ve been seeing you around for a while. It’s cool that you’re hanging out with us.”

Pels gives Luca a wary look as she slowly sits next to Hayley. Jess sits nearby, but with the box between them, which gives Pels a buffer zone. Pels isn’t really hungry for more sugar, so she ignores the box and lets the others find their own treats.

“Here.” Jess holds out a paper-wrapped something with “Pels” written on it in bold marker. “I think this one is for you.”

Pels takes it carefully, avoiding Jess’s fingers. “Thank you,” she mutters, half to Jess and half to Dad for not pushing her and forcing things she wasn’t ready for. As she unwraps it, she smells the bacon first, peanut butter second, and the sharp scent of cranberries third. Her mouth waters and she takes a huge bite, making a small pleased noise around it.

Hayley sits up to peer closely at the sandwich. “Is that—?”

Pels nods. “Peanut butter, bacon, and cranberries. And it’s so good. Mallory gave it to Nate last night and I wished I’d eaten the whole thing and we hadn’t shared it. He must’ve had her make one for me today.” Which is possibly one of the kindest things she can think of. “Jesus, he is so nice.”

“Nate’s a good guy, that’s why we figured he’d help out last night.” Jess is staring down at the muffin in her hands, and Pels has a small twist of guilt in her stomach. She must have done something wrong for Jess to look so down.

Who is she kidding? Of course she did something wrong. She has no idea what she’s even doing in the first place.

“Jess, I—”

“Make room!” Ángel’s calls out.

They must have met up, because all four of them are returning at the same time. Tony carries a large cardboard box, while Shane has a thermos swinging from one hand, while he leans on his cane with the other. Ángel leads with a covered platter, and Tanner brings up the rear with two paper bags.

Pels isn’t sure where she’s supposed to go, so she simply pulls her knees up, hunching over to see how small she can become in the corner while still protecting her sandwich. She’s half done eating it by the time everyone sorts themselves out in a circle around the edges of the blankets, with food laid out in the middle.

It’s a lot of food.

Luca, Tanner, and Tony tuck in and make a lot of it disappear frighteningly fast.

Somehow Pels ends up between Tony and Hayley, while Jess settles on the other side of the blanket, next to Shane. Pels is incredibly aware of the distance between them, and the way it feels deliberate. She can’t tell if Jess is giving her space or avoiding her, or a little of each.

Shane reaches for a scone, and stops halfway there with a wince. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I think I overdid it.”

“Can I help?” Jess pats his shoulder, then gives him a small shove until he lies down. She immediately reaches for his hip, digging her fingers into the top of his thigh, just below his hip. Shane closes his eyes with a groan, and Jess pauses to pat him reassuringly before continuing.

“That’s friendship,” Dad murmurs.

Pels ignores him, licking the remains of the cranberry and peanut butter off her fingers.

“Is it permanent?” Tanner asks. He waves a hand at Shane. “You said you broke it in January. Shouldn’t it be better?”

“It was a bad break to start,” Shane says, still lying on his side with one hand over his face. “Chances are I’m stuck with a limp this time around. It’s not the first time.”

“Not your first limp?” Tanner asks, confused when Hayley thwacks him across the chest.

“Not my first lingering injury.”

“If it weren’t for bad luck, Shane wouldn’t have any,” Jess says quietly, her fingers pressing with sure motions into his muscles. “Rory figured out it’s his innate Talent—it’s all about Chaos. But he’s been injured before.”

“I don’t heal fast. And I’m accident prone.” Shane bats at her hand as he rolls to sit up. “I’m good. Thanks. My parents are both Talented, so I was raised in the community. We’ve always seen Healers when we’ve had to, and one was involved this time, even though I needed surgery in the end, too. It’s just something else to get used to. And maybe I’ll get a cool cane eventually.”

“You could probably convince one of the martial arts clubs to teach you how to fight with it,” Ángel suggests.

“And that would be cool.” Shane uses his cane to poke at Ángel from across the circle. “I could defend myself.”

“Am I the only person here who isn’t Talented?” Jess asks.

Tanner raises his hand. “I’ve only been Talented since last weekend, so—I can relate.”

“Besides, you’re a farm girl, which is an entirely different kind of superhero,” Shane points out. “I’m pretty sure you could bench press me if you wanted.”

“Not you.” Jess shakes her head. “Pels, definitely. Hayley maybe.”

“Anyone could bench press Pels, she’s tiny,” Tanner says quickly. “I could probably do it.”

Pels’s eyes go wide, because she has a horrible feeling someone might try. She goes to scoot backwards, but Dad’s there, keeping her firmly within the circle. “Please don’t,” she says.

Tony makes a low noise, almost like a growl under his breath; everyone else goes silent. “No one’s going to do anything you don’t want,” he assures her. “They’re all extroverts. Just ignore them.”

For some reason that makes her snicker, and Tony looks surprised, then pleased by her smile. He leans over to speak quietly, while the rest of the conversation wanders off into something else involving Tanner and Luca shouting, while Shane laughs.

“I didn’t want it,” he says quietly. He’s speaking to her, she’s sure of it the way he leans close and keeps his voice low, but his gaze is fixed on Ángel. “I couldn’t trust magic. I couldn’t even trust my own nose. Then he barged into my life, and this happened.” Tony holds out his hand, wrist exposed.

There is so much ink there. The phases of the moon dance in a line down the inside of his arm, and at the wrist are two vivid angel’s wings, wrapping around him.

“Is that all…?”

“Just the wings.” Tony pulls his arm back from her view. “I heard you’ve got one.”

Pels offers her own arm cautiously, wincing slightly when he takes it and touches the mark with his thumb. “It’s kind of a mess,” she says.

“Mm.” Tony’s gaze remains on Ángel. “I haven’t met Rory or Kit, but I’ve heard about them. They seem happy. I know Hayley’s happy with Tanner, and well, Luca—he’s called Tanner’s cat. I thought I had what I was supposed to have before this, even if I wasn’t happy with it. I couldn’t figure out how to change my life, and when I was offered something good, I almost didn’t take it, because I didn’t trust it. I’m glad I did.”

Across the way, Ángel smiles, and Pels wonders if he overheard their quiet conversation. Then Tanner tackles Ángel, knocking him into Shane, and they all go down in a pile before Tanner and Luca emerge as large cats instead.

“How did you know?” Pels makes a face. “I just mean—it’s all so complicated. I’m not good at this. I don’t even know you and talking to you about this feels weird, and then there they are and I don’t know them either. And I’m not ready to cement this whatever it is and get locked into some kind of life that I’m not ready for.”

“I didn’t know Ángel, either. My family adopted him, and I got to know him, despite myself. Give it a chance.” Tony’s gaze flicks at Jess and Shane. “Give them a chance.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Pels grumbles.

“Maybe because it’s true,” Dad says. “He has a point.”

“I’m not saying you should start planning a wedding, but give yourself time to figure it out,” Tony suggests. “Don’t hold back because you’re afraid. You deserve good things just as much as they do.”

“I’m not a good thing for them,” Pels says quietly.

Tony just looks at her, and when she blinks, there’s a cat there instead. The cat—Tony—head butts her knee, then meows loudly before jumping into the fray where Tanner and Luca are playing with Ángel and Shane.

He’s so serious when talking, but she can feel the joy in his actions now.

Dad gets up and moves quickly, sitting next to her and somehow taking up space before Jess sits down, even though Jess can’t see him. Pels exhales, even if Dad makes it harder to look Jess in the eye.

“If the afternoon goes anything like the rest of the week, we have now devolved into kitty play time,” Jess says with a soft laugh. “How are you at frisbee?”

Pels touches her finger to her own chest.

“Yes, you.” Jess pushes to her feet, momentarily holding out a hand before withdrawing it quickly and wiping it against her jeans. “It’s frisbee. There’s no accidental touching involved.” Jess waves the frisbee, and Pels follows, Dad trailing after her.

“You can help,” she mutters. “Make them think I’m some kind of miracle worker. They already think I’m Telekinetic. I think.”

Dad claps his hands together, rubbing them quickly. “I never thought I’d hear you actually ask for for help.”

As Jess starts to pull away, leaving Pels so she can move far enough away to throw a frisbee, Pels calls out, “Wait.”

Jess turns back, the frisbee held in one hand. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Pels doesn’t know how to do this, or what to say to make it right. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess about this. I’m sorry if I don’t seem grateful for your help. And I’m really sorry that I’m terrified of touching you right now. It’s not—it’s not you. It’s just everything. To be honest, I’m not so sure about touching Shane, either, and I’ve already landed in his lap. I’m just not good at this. Any of it. And it kind of freaks me out completely just how okay with it everyone else is.”

Jess is silent for so long that Pels is sure she’s made a mess of things. She’s said the wrong thing. She always says the wrong thing.

She almost misses it when Jess tosses the frisbee at her fast, and the frisbee dips before it reaches Pels. She starts to reach for it, but Dad gets under it, popping it up so Pels can grab at it awkwardly. Her fingers close over the plastic rim, her foot sliding on the grass as she regains her balance.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Jess says quietly. “I’d be surprised if you’re not. I mean, I’m the only one getting my wish here, right? Shane’s used to chaos because that’s what his entire life has been. I’m used to things working out, because I’m the mathematician—I figure out how to make things balance. And you, you’re not used to people, I guess, so you’re nervous. But I really hope you’ll give us a chance. Just get to know us. It’s okay if it doesn’t get romantic. I mean, I don’t even know if you like girls. But maybe that mark means we can be friends, and I’d be happy to be your friend if that’s how it works out. Are you okay with that?”

Jess makes it sound easy, but she also sounds like she’s giving Pels a way out.

“You could give her a chance.”

Pels stares at Dad, stares at him hard and wills for him to hear her inside voice, so she doesn’t have to go as far as making it an outside voice.

He just stares back, which means she has to choose her words carefully.

“As long as no one pushes me into anything,” she says, her gaze still resting on Dad. She finally looks up to see Jess sprinting as far as the nearest tree.

Jess waves. “No one’s going to push you into anything,” she calls out. “Just throw me the frisbee.”

Dad is suspiciously silent, but Pels can’t afford to say anything again, not with everyone listening. She exhales and tries to relax, loosening her grip on the plastic. It’s just frisbee.

She turns her body, swings her arm before she releases the disk. It goes high in the air, wobbling before it drops straight down. Jess dives for it, sliding across the grass and laughing as she misses it, despite the fresh stains on her jeans.

When Jess sends it flying back to her, Dad pushes her so she crosses paths with the frisbee, stumbling when it thunks her hard in the chest. Pels drops to her knees, rubbing at the ache.

It’s just frisbee, but she really hopes it isn’t also a metaphor for anything else right now.

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