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tenskittens · 3 years

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Not Enough - Part III.

Part 3

Warnings: Smut, threesome, john x ten x y/n, ass play, john x ten sex, fingering, dominance, cum (everywhere, ew), angst.

Words: 2.8k.

Read part 1 & part 2 first!

It’s been a week since you contemplated changing things in your relationship. As of now, nothing has changed. In fact, things have been sort of chaotic in the NCIT house this past week - you’ve been mostly hanging out with Jaehyun working on a coding assignment you were set over the summer. Ten went away for a couple of days - he said he just wanted to spend more time with his other close friends in the WayV house, who you were all pretty close with, but you suspect he also needed a bit of time away from you and Johnny. And Johnny - well, he’d been pretty distant too, and that hurt the most. You usually spend your rare moments of free time hanging out with him, snuggling on the sofa snacking on popcorn and crisps, having a low-key smoke and binging FRIENDS or comedy movies. This week, though, he hasn’t been here as much for you - in fact, you’ve probably spent more time with Jae, even Doyoung and possibly even Jaemin and the other freshers, than you have with Johnny or Ten.

“Ah, shit, watch it! Fucking arsehole” you yell as you walk directly into your boyfriend and drop your freshly-popped corn all over the floor. “The fuck, y/n, it was an accident. Chill.”

Johnny looks at you with genuine hurt, and you’re sort of embarrassed by the way you snapped. You didn’t want him to know that you weren’t feeling great about the whole ‘being abandoned for the whole week to stress about your work with Jae whilst your boyfriend and best friend fuck of and have fun’ situation.

You are pissed off. But you remember what you’re wearing - the little pair of shorts that perfectly hug your arse, and your hair tied back just how Johnny loves it. So you bend down to scramble and pick up the popcorn from the floor, ignoring Johnny but moving yourself in such a way that you’d gain his attention. Johnny watches you from his distance, and your plan begins to work - he feels himself getting hard at the sight of you bent over on the kitchen floor. Your silence was only turning him on more - he had no idea what to say, and felt at your mercy in that very moment - an unusual feeling for someone who was the dominant one in most scenarios. You stand back up after scraping together most of the popcorn. You stand slowly, looking Johnny up and down as you do, pausing to focus on how the veins in his arms have started to show - a tell-tale sign that he must be horny for you, despite not talking to you all week.

“So?” you ask him, a stubborn and demanding tone in your voice. You’re still pissed off - he literally hasn’t spoken to you about anything, leaving you in the dark about what the plan was and forcing you to seek comfort in Jae because he wasn’t there to hang out while you’d been stressed. Anyway, fuck all of that, you think to yourself. You firmly place the popcorn tub onto the countertop next to you and cock your head slightly, looking at Johnny’s face this time, but avoiding eye contact.

“So, are you going to like… tell me what’s going on?” you ask, frustrated now, trying to hide your emotional vulnerability by holding yourself in a powerful stance, sitting into your hip and casually leaning back into the countertop. You know you look fit, and Johnny knows it, too.

He sighs, now too turned on to even play his little game of piss y/n enough to get her to start the conversation first. He practically launches himself on you, keeping you pressed against the counter top and using his knee to hold your torso firmly in place. He locks his hand into yours and holds it firmly, too. You’re suddenly well and truly held down by John Suh, at his complete mercy and most-definitely not able to escape from his grasp.

“Y/n, Ten’s in my room literally right now. We’ve been waiting for you to break the silence because we thought you were the one mad with us. We thought you didn’t want to talk to us, so, we just sort of left you some space... for a bit...”. His voice is low, frustrated and tense.

Why was he being like this? He sounds genuinely annoyed, yet he’s acting like he wants to fuck me right here? And why’s he being so touchy?

“John, I’m literally pissed that you’ve been ignoring me. How are we never on the same page?”

Johnny doesn’t even reply, and you don’t really care. Stood over you, he’s one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever laid eyes on - you never fail to forget this. His hair is falling slightly over his eyes, textured and dark, complimenting the deep brown colour of his irises. His muscle tee reveals his broad shoulders, dressed in a bold, dark tattoo on one side. Nothing about Johnny Suh screams “innocence”. He is dark, intense, experienced, and always ready to show you a good time.

“What I mean, y/n, is that Ten’s waiting for me in my room”.

Oh.

“No problem, Johnny, I’ll be alright down here” you tell him, your voice tight, wondering whether this was an invitation to follow him, or a request for him to leave.

“No, y/n. Come on”. Johnny’s eyes are dark and serious, as they so often are when he’s turned on. You’re suddenly hyper aware that you’re in

a communal space - Jae could easily be slumped in the corner of the room, listening to the tension between you two as he so-often was - but you still don’t want to make nice with Johnny, so you shake him off you and somewhat stomp your way to his room, the man following you closely and quickly.

You barge open his door, pushing your weight onto it, and sitting in a leather armchair, leaning out of the window, is Ten. Shirtless. Oh shit, he’s hot.

“Oh, y/n, sorry fuck- hi” Ten sputters, reaching for something to cover himself up and eventually just wrapping his arms around his torso.

“Baby, you still up for trying this?” Johnny asks. Both you and Ten respond quietly and quickly with a tentative “yes”. .

“Hah, I was talking to Ten, but sure y/n I know you’re okay with it”, responds Johnny sassily, walking past you towards Ten. “Hot”, he assesses, looking at Ten just as he’d looked at you earlier.

Knowing that Johnny was checking him out like that turned Ten on, his cock growing harder under his lazy cargo pants. He hadn’t long been at the gym with Jae and Haechan, and the post work-out effect had left him slightly tired but, visually, incredibly attractive. His abs were tight and defined, even as he was leant over the window frame.

“Heard Ten was really good at fingering when he was dating that girl in first year. Not to make this weird or anything”.

Neither you nor Ten replies to this. So like, does Ten actually want this? I don’t get it, you think to yourself. And, honestly, you don’t know that Ten is only really doing this for Johnny. In the moment, he seems pretty damn into you. He stands tall, despite being the same height as you, shirtless with his hair slightly wet from just having showered, carrying the scent of sandalwood and sweet floral undertones. He moves towards you, and your heart pounds, your hands trembling slightly as you become hot and wet for him... Confidently, the man sits on the edge of the bed, a slightly playful and teasing smile spreading across his lips, and he pulls you by your arm so you end up falling next to him. You’re surprised by the sudden action, causing your heart to race faster.

“Mm, he’s right, you know, I’m pretty fucking good in bed” Ten teases you. You and Ten locked eyes as he placed his hand around your waist and pulled you close to him. He wasn’t sure about this, but he felt a compelling urge to kiss you. Ten feels Johnny place his hand on his thigh, squeezing gently, and it gives him the confidence he needs to lean in, chasing for your sweet, tender lips.

As Ten’s lips meet yours, you feel your heart murmuring, beating like it never has before. You take his kiss deep - although it feels sexual and intense, as opposed to passionate and loving. His tongue is greedy, chasing for yours and playing with your lips with gentle nips every so often. Johnny stands behind Ten, softly playing with his long hair, almost reassuring him. You feel Ten move his hands from your waist down to your thigh.

“Well, aren’t you two both such needy and horny, little things” Johnny teases, his voice dark and dominant. “Ten, honey, you know you don’t have to fuck her tonight, but she seems to want more than just a sweet kiss from you”.

Disappointing. Of course you didn’t expect that Ten would actually go all the way with you - although he has been with many girls in the past, you guess he just doesn’t actually enjoy that. But you can feel his fingers dancing up your thigh, altering their pressure as they skip across your crotch, brushing with gentle pressure over the crotch of your trousers and making their way to your opposite thigh. He is so careful and coordinated with his touch, different to Johnny - more thought-out, almost. Johnny bends down closer to Ten and kisses the back of his neck, whispering to him with a firm tone; “Ten, you need to be rough with her, she’s a dirty slut. You need to rip her panties off and fill her with your fingers and -”. You stop listening to Johnny’s instructions, becoming distracted by your growing wetness, pulsating as you feel the blood rush through your body. All you can feel is how Ten pushes you down onto your back, moving on top of you so he has full access to your delicate, glistening folds. As he does so, Johnny follows, teasing Ten’s upper thighs but not yet removing his cargo pants. “Ten, pleaasee” you beg, slightly moaning when you feel his slightly cold hands work at the button of your trousers, pulling them down awkwardly. You arch your back at the cold, slightly ticklish sensation. The arching is enough to grab Johnny’s attention - “damn, babygirl you’re sensitive tonight, does our slut need more attention?”. You whine in frustration, arching your back again to allow ten to remove your trousers all the way. As Ten does so, Johnny leans over him from behind and grabs his pants and pulls them down - he’s commando, so Johnny immediately grabs his hard, throbbing cock, releasing a moan from the man who is largely preoccupied with you, teasing your clit at a constant, steady pace. Johnny slowly pumps up and down Ten’s cock. “Listen, sweet baby, I want you to make y/n come all over us. I’m going to do to you what I want you to do to her - follow my lead, and you’ll make her come”. You heard that part - fuck, i just want to come, you think to yourself.

Johnny cocks his head. “Sound okay, babies?” he asks you both, receiving two half-confident moans in response. He’s definitely in charge of you both.

Johnny tightens his grip on Ten, prompting him to slip two fingers immediately inside of you, taking you deep without a second thought. It was intense, but so necessary. You respond with a sharp intake of breath, once again arching your back. When Johnny speeds up his movements around Ten’s pulsating member, Ten quickens his pace with you. He’s moving his fingers in and out of you at a rushed pace, desperate to bring you to orgasm. Ten was genuinely horny, enjoying playing with you and chasing your upcoming orgasm, and although he had some limits, this wasn’t beyond his boundaries. He was so incredibly attracted to you. Your little, desperate breaths quicken, becoming deeper and longer as Johnny tightens his grip further, slowing down on Ten’s cock, and Ten responds in the same manner. He begins to slowly, but deeply, insert his fingers inside of you, pushing deep and steadily against your G spot.

“She’s actually so beautiful” Ten mutters quietly and breathlessly. Johnny responds, once again quickening his pace on Ten’s cock, planting kisses along his shoulders. This encourages Ten to quicken his pace, using the “come here” motion to hit your g-spot successfully with every repetition he makes. “And she’s such a slut” Ten adds, as you now whine quietly, high-pitched moans leaving you every time he hits your g-spot. He places his lips on yours, swallowing your moans with his deep, warm kiss. His lips are sweet and slightly swollen, making them gentle and exciting enough to continue kissing him, despite how close you were to your oblivion, and how distracting Ten’s fingers were. Johnny finally releases Ten after edging him for way too long - but doesn’t let Ten come just yet. Ten takes this as his cue to focus purely on you, tipping you over the edge. You’re moaning deliriously as Ten slips in a third finger and, with his other hand, wraps around your ass, playing with your sensitive skin around the entrance. Ten’s very good at this - he presses a thumb against your ass, gently but with enough pressure to change the sensation deep inside of you. You feel your pussy tightening, grabbing onto Ten’s slender fingers as he continues desperately chasing your orgasm, waiting patiently for his own. But Johnny is becoming fed up of waiting, so he drops his own pants and presents his cock in front of your mouth. “Work for your orgasm. Be my cumslut” Johnny demands strictly. You take his cock as deep as you can, feeling your pussy tighten as Ten drives you closer to orgasm. You suck Johnny deep and hard, using your tongue how you know he likes it. The sight of Johnny’s cock, dripping and filling your mouth, drives Ten insane. He isn’t even being pleasured, but he, too, feels so close to his orgasm, dripping presum from his tip. You’re still panting and moaning into Johnny’s cock when you finally reach your orgasm. Ten reaches one hand from your ass to Johnny’s, again pressing his finger into Johnny enough to send him over the edge. He explodes into your mouth, causing you to gag and splutter as you immediately come over Ten’s fingers. Your eyes stream with tears as the intensity of your orgasm sweeps through your body, weakening you head-to-toe.

“Y/n, you’re not finished, baby” says Johnny, standing. “Y/n, suck Ten’s cock while I fuck him good”, he tells you. And you do exactly what he says. Johnny is so gentle with Ten - so tender and loving. You can see now, despite your mouth being stuffed with Ten’s dripping, pulsating cock, that the love between these two is different. It’s intense, it’s passionate, it’s inherently sexual but yet so nurturing and tender. What you have with Johnny is fun - but you know you were friends first, friends now, and will always be friends. But you also know that this might be the last time you fuck John Suh as your boyfriend, and you didn’t even actually end up fucking him. The thought saddens you, but it passes quickly as you continue to pleasure Ten whilst sat on your knees. It doesn’t take long before you release him, and he lets his come spill out over your swollen breasts. Just a few moments later, Johnny follows, adding his cum to the sticky mess dripping on you. Johnny leans over you to kiss Ten - and in this kiss, there is so much love. You realise that he has chosen Ten in his moment of vulnerability, not you. But lying there, barely awake and covered in their come, you don’t mind. Ten flashes you a sexy smile as he kisses your belly, covered in Johnny’s come. Johnny pleasures your nipples, cleaning them up with his swollen lips before leaning down to kiss you, and moving back to kiss Ten, forcing him to taste his own mess. “Okok”, you say quickly. “I’m going to wash up in the bathroom”.

Your back is aching, you’re covered in come, and your whole body is weak and trembling from the intensity of working so hard for these two men. And Johnny was right - Ten was very good in bed. But you expected nothing less of the man who is good at everything.

Within 15 minutes, the three of you were asleep in the bed together. And within a few hours, you woke up, noticed how Ten wrapped his leg over Johnny’s, and how Johnny held his arm out for you to lean into. Feeling disgusting and tired, your heart sort of aching, you decided to slip back into your own room. You know you have to leave.

Thanks for reading! I’m sorry I didn’t go into full angst detail about the end of the *situation*. There will be a short follow-up sequel, mostly just angst, that will deal with the end of the relationship, just so this story doesn’t end up with no proper resolution. I hope you enjoyed how the situation unfolded, but more importantly - I hope you enjoyed the smut. I’ll be releasing follow-ups set in the NCIT frat house in the future, so please follow and interact!

~tenskittens~

#nct 127 #nct smut #wayv smut #johnny smut #ten smut #johnten #nct reader insert #nct frat #x reader #nct 127 angst #nct

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withoneheadlight · 3 years

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ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

#harringrove #d+mb sh+t i write #but #i had fun!#writing max bc she's my fav <3<3<#and also #dumbstrucklovestruck billy? MY FAV TKVM #also #mixtaping IS an art #xharringrove

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lady-of-the-lotus · 3 years

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Xuexiao Goes to the DMV

Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen go to the DMV (aka Where Hope Goes To Die) and share a kiss.

That’s it. That’s the fic.

Xuexiao - T (just for some cursing) - Read on AO3!

“If you hear about someone going berserk in a DMV on the news, that’ll be me,” the mechanical text-to-speech voice reads aloud, and Xiao Xingchen turns to Xue Yang questioningly.

Xue Yang reaches over and turns the volume down on Xingchen’s phone. “Meant to send that to A-Qing.”

“Are we going to be escorted out? Again?”

Xue Yang grins and looks around the room. They’ve already been at the DMV for over an hour. Dozens of people are draped limply over the hard orange seats, eyes glazed, going down for the third time in a sea of government bureaucracy.

“Ticket 4352, now being served at window thirty-three,” announces the robotic voice over the loudspeaker.

“It would take an alien invasion to wake these people up,” Xue Yang says as a man in overalls shuffles past. “You should see these people. This must be what a lobotomy post-op recovery room looks like.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Like the world’s most incompetent deli, filled with zombie customers waiting to eat the brains of whatever the opposite of employee of the month is. Well, ‘brains.’ They work at the DMV, after all.”

Xiao Xingchen adjusts his sunglasses. “Let's not be mean.”

“And we can all hear you,” adds a woman on his left. “Not that it made much sense.”

Xue Yang makes a face at her and turns back to Xingchen. “If they make me come back a third time, I’m going to go postal. You know, going postal should be called ‘going DMV.’ It’s catchier, for one thing, and I’ve never so much as stepped foot in a post office—”

“I’m keeping you far away from post offices. Those poor people have suffered enough.”

“How so?”

“Well, there must be a reason they go postal, right?”

Xue Yang rolls his eyes. “If the post office has the same taste in music as the DMV, I don’t blame them. Who picked this station? If it’s not Justin Bieber it’s whoever inflicted ‘Kiss Me Through the Phone’ on the world. I’d like to do something to them through the phone, and it won’t be a kiss, I can tell you that much.”

Xiao Xingchen takes a Snickers bar out of the fanny pack Xue Yang has vainly begged him not to wear. “According to the television commercials, this will improve your mood.”

“My mood?” Xue Yang takes a bite. “If I have to hear ‘Baby’ one more time—”

“Ticket 9753, now being served at window fourteen.”

“ ‘Served.’ Ha. As if.”

Xiao Xingchen feels around for another Snickers bar but comes up empty. He should have planned this better. He’d sensed Xue Yang’s mood coming on last night as Xue Yang went through his documents. He’d been cheerful enough until he found his birth certificate in the bundle of papers he’d been given after leaving his last group home.

Then he’d grown strangely quiet, and wandered aimlessly around their apartment for an hour, carrying his phone around with him and switching between a half-dozen different YouTube videos before deciding to bake brownies at 1am and burning them when he got distracted playing video games. He wasn’t paying much attention to the video game, either, going by his cursing as he got repeatedly blown up by what Xingchen suspects was a twelve-year old somewhere in Japan, and eventually gave that up to go take apart their toaster in the interest of “fixing” it.

Now he sits beside Xingchen, jiggling his leg. Xiao Xingchen wants to ask him about his birth certificate, but he hadn't dared to last night, and doesn’t dare now.

“Ticket 9755, now being served at Window 26.”

“Weren’t you 9754?” he asks Xue Yang.

“Oh, crap—” Xue Yang jumps to his feet and rushes to Window 26, brushing past a mohawked man holding a ticket marked 9755. “I’m 9754.”

The woman behind the glass may as well have been carved from wood. “You missed your number.”

“There was no announcement!”

“Or your number isn’t working. It’s not showing up on my computer.”

“What the hell does that mean? I’m on the screen! Look!” Xue Yang jabs a finger at the screen above the booth. At the bottom of the list it reads Ticket 9754 – Window 26. “9754! Window 26! All you need to do is take my picture—”

“Get back in line. Get a new ticket. Window 13.”

“Get back in line?” He looks over at the line for Window 13. It wraps around the entire room. “I already have a number! I’m on the screen!”

“Back. In. Line.”

“Just take the damn photo—”

Xingchen lays a hand on his arm. “Thank you, ma’am. We’ll get back in line.”

“Like hell we will! I’ve been here since 5 o’clock—I made an appointment! I even brought my own pen! You ever watch Monsters Inc.? You know Roz? Are you her evil older sister? Because you look exactly like—”

“Back of the line.”

“Younger sister, then. Happy?”

The woman doesn’t bother shrugging. “You’re blocking traffic.”

Xingchen begins to move, heading in the wrong direction. Xue Yang has no choice but to follow or else let him walk into a column plastered with posters emblazoned with, Make your visit easy - download the forms at dmv.gov! , Streamline your visit - make an appointment online today!, and We’re here to help!

“Let’s just go home,” says Xue Yang. “The gray, water stained walls are starting to close in. At any second I expect a giant ball to roll towards us. Well, wrong movie—whatever. I’m sick of this place. It’s cursed.”

“We’re just going to have to come back, and you’ll have wasted the hour we already spent here.”

Xue Yang groans and gets in line behind a woman with three small screaming children. “This whole thing is stupid. We can barely afford rent, let alone a car."

"We will, one day. Besides, it's good to have a license."

"We’ll just take trains and buses everywhere, or you can learn to drive. We'll fudge the vision test."

Xingchen laughs. Xue Yang relaxes slightly at the sound. After a moment, Xingchen slips his hand in his. He’s not one for public displays of affection, but there’s an edge in Xue Yang’s voice that has nothing to do with his return to Window 13.

Xue Yang’s hand tightens in his, and Xingchen rubs it reassuringly with his thumb.

“You again?” says the woman at Window 13 when they finally make it there, twenty minutes later.

“That power-mad dictator at Window 26 wouldn’t take my picture.”

The woman tilts her head at Xue Yang. “She wouldn’t?”

Xue Yang tilts his head back at her, as if to say, I know! Who wouldn’t want to photograph me ?

She smiles, a synthetic smile that reminds Xue Yang of his friend Lan Xichen’s dimpled little fiance. “Strange.”

“ ‘Strange’? I knew she could have just done it had she wanted to—”

The woman blinks at him, her smile growing faker by the minute. “I’m sure what she told you was accurate.”

“Sure, and there is no war in Ba-Sing-Se—”

Xiao Xingchen squeezes his hand, and Xue Yang stops talking and passes her his form. She stamps it a second time and hands him another ticket.

He and Xingchen return to the waiting area. Xue Yang puts his boots up on the seat next to him, resting his head on Xingchen’s shoulder.

“Describe the room to me again,” Xingchen says, trying to distract him from his brooding and, with any luck, keep him from taking out his Swiss army knife and carving his initials into the seat and get them kicked out again. Xue Yang has a talent for describing things, and Xingchen has been trying to encourage him to start writing.

Xue Yang begins to play with his long sleek ponytail. “Purgatory’s antechamber. Humanity’s lost-and-found. A void where time has no meaning. Pit of despair and industrial cleaner.”

Xingchen chuckles, making sure it’s loud enough for Xue Yang to hear.

“If their posters were honest, they’d all be in Comic Sans font, with things like, Where hope goes to die; This is your home now; Nothing escapes our pull, not even time; Human sacrifices while you wait—”

“Human sacrifices?”

"Yeah, I think so."

A crackle of static over the speaker as a new song comes on. “You know you love me, I know you care...Just shout whenever and I'll be there….”

Xue Yang starts up violently, but Xiao Xingchen gently pulls him back down beside him. “Some kind of cannibal conspiracy?” he asks, hoping Xue Yang’s knife has remained in his pocket and is not seconds away from being embedded in a blaring loudspeaker.

Xue Yang settles back against his shoulder. “I’m positive Overalls Guy never returned from Window 17. He’s probably in the office barbecue pit.”

“This must go all the way to the top. Shift supervisor too, I’d guess.”

“Baby, baby, baby oh….Like baby, baby, baby no….”

Xue Yang stops playing with his hair and starts picking at his black nail polish. He’s feeling a bit better, Xingchen’s shoulder warm and solid. “I swear that Roz lady put a curse on me. They all probably dance in a circle around a stack of burning Social Security cards every night, chanting.” He squirms, suddenly bored. “You got any more food? I’m starving.”

Xingchen rummages in his fanny pack. “Just a burned brownie.”

“I swear I set a timer!"

The timer had gone off while Xingchen was in the shower last night. Xue Yang had simply ignored it, too absorbed in trying to virtually blow up his twelve-year-old nemesis. He tends to ignore timers while cooking, usually followed by a mad rush to the kitchen to salvage dinner. “You know dinner is ready when the smoke detector goes off,” he likes to say.

Xue Yang sniffs the crumpled foil surrounding the charred black brownie chunk. “Is this the same foil I wrapped your tuna sandwich in yesterday?”

“We only have one earth!”

“Xingchen, I swear—” Xue Yang stops, rolling his eyes fondly. He’s never met anyone who can be so annoying and endearing at the same time.

Xingchen takes the brownie back. “I'll eat it. I like the burned bits.”

"It's all burned bits."

"Exactly. Perfect."

“She knows she's got me dazing, 'cause she was so amazin'....And now my heart is breakin', but I just keep on sayin'....”

“Who wrote this? I swear I won’t hurt them. I just want their address.”

Xingchen knows he shouldn’t laugh at that, but he can’t help it.

They sit there for another half hour, talking. Xue Yang has succeeded in denuding the nails of his left hand when his number is finally called. He gets his photo taken by a man with glazed eyes and no chin, and is shuffled off to the next waiting area.

“They refused to show me my photo,” he says as they settle back down. “I swear the camera stole my soul and is using it to power the fluorescent lights. I feel at peace now. Kind of floating.” He discovers a piece of gum in his jeans pocket and begins to loudly blow bubbles, making full eye contact with the annoyed Bluetooth Guy and irritated Woman With Facial Tattoo Of Bugs Bunny. “I am one with the DMV demigods, part of something larger than myself.”

“Like joining the army.”

“Or drowning in the ocean.” He lays down with his head in Xingchen’s lap, boots on the edge of Bluetooth Guy’s seat. “Why does your fanny pack smell like patchouli? Have you been burning weird hippie incense again? You promised you’d stop after you set fire to your curtains.”

Xingchen would rather Xue Yang didn’t semi-cuddle him in public, but Xue Yang’s energy is calmer when he’s touching Xingchen, and he lets him stay. “It’s that new candle you bought me, remember?”

“Right. Bought you.”

“What do you—”

“I thought it was peppermint.”

Xingchen bites his lip. Xue Yang is…well, he can read well enough to pass a driving test, but his education was…slipshod at best. Next on Xingchen’s list is encouraging Xue Yang to get his GED.

“You smell like a music festival,” says Xue Yang. “I must have grabbed the wrong one in the store. I sniffed all of them. My picture is probably hanging beside the register of every Bath & Body Works in town: ‘Beware the Candle Perv’—”

“At least someone was willing to take your picture.”

Xue Yang laughs. Xingchen rests a hand on his chest, heedless of the people around them. He likes how Xue Yang feels when he laughs, his whole body shaking, making no attempt to hide his feelings. Xue Yang makes him laugh so often, it’s a special joy for him to return the favor.

They’ve been there almost two and a half hours when Xue Yang’s number is finally called. As if the DMV curse is kicking in again, the loudspeakers creep up another few decibels.

“Like baby, baby, baby no, like baby, baby, baby oh, thought you'd always be mine, mine….”

“Xue Yang—” Xingchen starts before Xue Yang can say anything.

“I know, I know. This is penance for my putting that egg in Song Lan’s shoe last week. The DMV knows all. The DMV was here before us, and will be here after we are gone. The DMV—”

“—The DMV will make us wait in line again, if we don’t hurry.”

Together they go to Window 10, where a drab little man sifts through Xue Yang’s documents. “Fifties, balding, completely dead inside,” Xue Yang whispers to Xingchen.

“I’m thirty-nine,” says the man in a monotone, not looking up, “and you’re missing a birth certificate. And what’s this stain on your Social Security card?”

“Definitely not blood.”

The man stares at him with eyes that, had his life force not already been sucked out of Xue Yang by an afternoon at the DMV, would have done the job. “Current passport, or birth certificate.”

Xue Yang hesitates, then slips a folded piece of pink paper under the glass partition.

The man unfolds it with the sterling speed of a drugged snail and spreads it over the counter. He lines up Xue Yang’s Social Security card, bank statement, and birth certificate, and examines them line by line as if he’s a Bletchley Circle analyst and Xue Yang’s documents are intercepted enemy transmissions.

He looks up at Xue Yang. “Is this a valid birth certificate? There are no parent names listed, and the date of birth has an asterisk—”

“I know what it has!”

“What’s your date of birth?” The man slowly pushes his chair back. “I’m going to have to get a supervisor—”

Xue Yang slams the counter. Xingchen lays a hand on his arm. It’s a miracle Xue Yang’s knife isn’t out. “Don’t you fucking dare! This is what they do when—just Google it, okay? I don’t know what day I was born, they just put whatever date they thought was accurate—”

Xingchen swallows hard.

He had known Xue Yang had grown up in foster care, but had assumed he had been given up by his parents as a child when they could no longer take care of him.

Not—not abandoned as an infant—

“And change the fucking station!” Xue Yang adds. “If I have to hear that stupid fucking song one more time I will go fucking berserk —”

The man’s dead-eyed stare intensifies. “Sign here,” he says after a moment, pushing a slip of paper at Xue Yang.

“You want my love, you want my heart….And we will never, ever, ever be apart…”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Xingchen asks as they step outside. The words sound hollow, and he wishes he had simply remained silent.

Xue Yang takes a deep breath. It’s almost cool out, a welcome change from the week’s heat. “Well, we escaped. Now we just have to get help for the others. Or do we abandon them to their fates? I vote we abandon them. You should have seen some of the looks I got. It’s like they never saw someone threaten a DMV employee before, something I’m willing to bet happens a dozen times an hour.”

Xingchen takes his arm as he begins to walk. It’s easier than using his stick in the crowded city. “Xue Yang…”

Xue Yang’s muscles tense beneath his arm. “What?”

“Nothing.” He bites his lip. He’ll have Xue Yang feeling better soon enough. “What street are we on? Turn in on 33rd.”

“What’s on 33rd?”

“Just let me know when we’re there. 33rd and 7th.”

“The train’s on 36th.”

“But the restaurant’s on 33rd.”

“The what?”

Xingchen wants to smile, but is afraid Xue Yang might take it the wrong way after what happened at the DMV. For someone who does his best to project an I-don’t-care attitude, Xue Yang is surprisingly sensitive.

“What’s today’s date?” He already knows the date, of course. It’s been on his mind for weeks now.

Xue Yang’s arm grows even stiffer. “Is this a ‘you-don’t-know-when-your-birthday-is-so-every-day-is-your-birthday’ thing? Because—”

“Not at all… Remember the day we met? You made fun of my shirt—”

Xue Yang frowns at this sudden change of subject, but goes along with it. Better than talking about that damn birth certificate. “It was white, and ruffled. You looked like an escapee from a high school production of Hamlet. What was I supposed to do?”

“You crashed a motorcycle not three feet from me. An unregistered motorcycle with stolen plates.”

"I bought you coffee to make up for it, didn’t I?”

“You had them put four sugars in my cappuccino. It was undrinkable.”

“One was a Splenda, and anyway I took you to dinner to make up for the coffee, didn’t I?”

“Pizza at one of those dollar-a-slice places you have to stand at a counter to eat. I paid for it.”

“And I paid for your kombucha, whatever the heck that is.”

“And I paid for the band-aids we had to go buy after you cut yourself after playing catch with your knife.”

“You were distracting me!”

“I was quietly eating my pizza.”

“The light reflecting off your shirt ruffles got in my eyes.”

“Four dollars for the band-aids. You insisted on Hello Kitty.”

“Spongebob was also on the table." He wrinkles his nose. "I've got about three-fifty in my pocket, if you want it. But what’s your point, exactly?'

Xingchen smiles. He enjoys winding up Xue Yang, and it’s by far the most effective way to distract him when he’s in a dark mood. “Just that you better not put extra sugar in the fondue.”

“The what?”

“A-Qing read me the dessert menu. Chocolate fondue with bananas, blueberries, pineapple, and cherries. Strawberries, too, I think, and marshmallows, maybe even non-charred brownies—”

Xue Yang stops walking. “Xingchen—”

Xingchen lets go of Xue Yang’s arm, takes his hand instead. Kisses him soundly, right there on Sixth Avenue.

“Forget your birthday," he says. "We have a new date to celebrate every year." He gives Xue Yang's hand a little squeeze and kisses him again. “Happy anniversary, Xue Yang.”

Liked it? AO3 👉👈

Ruffle shirt reference

Obviously, Xue Yang was simply distracted by how pretty Xingchen was.

#xue yang #xiao xingchen #xuexiao #mdzsnet #I finally write something not cursed that I can put in the tag!#uttterly plotless fluff #cql #the untamed #untameddaily

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writing-in-april · 3 years

Text

Bulletproof

Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: Reader can’t stop staring at Javier in his bulletproof vest and he can’t stop staring at Reader too.

A/N: I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for a while and literally could not stop thinking about fucking Javier while he had his vest on. Also if the Spanish translations are off I’m sorry I only have a small grasp on the language, though I am trying to get better. The translations are at the bottom of the fic. This is the third fic for my 1000 follower celebration!!! Hope y’all enjoy!! Thanks for reading and requests are open!

Warnings: 18+, Clothed sex, Public sex, Unprotected sex, Oral sex (M receiving)

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.7k

These damn vests were going to be the death of me, I swear. They made the humid heat of Colombia feel even more scorching, making my whole body drip with perspiration.

And, it didn’t help that Javier looked so good in them. A different kind of wetness pooled whenever I saw him in the army green vest that was too tight, just like the rest of the clothing he wore.

Today, we were on a raid of one of one of Escobar’s supposed hideouts and the damn heat wouldn’t let up. Part of me wished I had gotten the chance to stay behind with Steve at the Embassy, but then I would’ve missed out on the chance to see Javier wearing the bulletproof vest.

The green vest was a distraction to my work, every time I saw him in it I almost lost my mind in lust. Luckily, for a while I was able to keep my eyes off of Javier, making excuses about the sun being annoying in my eyes so I could stare at his shoes instead. I couldn’t avoid confrontation with the look of him in his vest for long. As soon as we were ready to go I had to pick my head up to meet his eyes so I could properly do my job. I needed to be able to do this without my arousal getting in the way, I needed to do by job.

I kept my mind as cool as possible while we did our jobs, focusing only on the task at hand and the gun in my hand. Whenever I had to make eye contact with Javier I made sure to not let my gaze wander only looking straight into his eyes. His deep brown eyes were almost as distracting as the vest I thought. I shook my head a little to try and refocus on the task at hand.

Thankfully, we were done only a few minutes later and with no major incident, which was lucky when you looked at our track record.

I put my gun away in the front pocket of my vest while I made my way to my car to grab a bottle of water. It didn’t matter to me that the water was probably not much cooler than I was, anything would be better than nothing.

I could feel Javier’s eyes on me like a hawk as I opened up the cap and began the deluge over my head of lukewarm almost hot water. I did make sure to bend over so as to not get any of the water to drip onto my own vest, though I may have had other motives to stick my ass out into Javier’s line of sight. I was hoping maybe he liked me in the green vest as much as I liked him in it.

The look he flashed me after I had finished pouring the water over my head in an attempt to cool off was anything but professional. I smirked to myself in triumph, I had gotten him to show his feelings, even if it was just a little bit. We had both been dancing around the obvious tension between the two of us for a long time, even before Steve had joined us.

Hopefully that tension would break soon, I didn’t know if I could handle looking at him in the bulletproof vest much longer without asking for a taste.

——-

Once we had gotten back to the embassy, Javier followed behind me back to the room where the vests were stored. It was a small little back room at the embassy that had other miscellaneous items the staff used. The tension between the two of us was as thick as the air around us, anyone could tell just from looking at us in passing. If Javier wasn’t going to make the first move, I guess it would have to be me.

“¡Apúrate!” I shouted behind me, prompting him to pick up his pace. He fell in step next to me, putting us on equal footing again. I no longer felt like I was being chased by Javier, I wonder if a woman had ever challenged his dominance before. If he had never been challenged before, he was sure in for a surprise from me.

I slammed the door open and pulled him into the small room. Though I was a little ungraceful I didn’t care, I needed him now. Shutting the door behind me I pushed his back against the nearest wall in the small room. Before I could ask him if he wanted this, Javier turned the tables on me. Pushing himself off from the door, he grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back where his original position was.

“Do you want this?”

“Thought that was obvious.” At my confirmation Javier captured me into a bruising kiss, his lips were chapped, but still beautifully soft to me. I could tell he was surprised that I didn’t give up dominance in the kiss, battling it out with him over who got to take over. Eventually, he unfortunately won when he unbuttoned my pants and put his hands into my panties, causing me to gasp into his mouth. I kicked my pants off as he started to move his mouth down to kiss my neck, I did make sure to sharply warn him about being careful to not leave hickies.

He then started to undo the vest that was still strapped tight to my curves, but I stopped him, bringing his hands to my hips before gasping, “I need you now, don’t bother taking it off.”

My voice sounded pathetically desperate. Normally I would’ve felt embarrassed at how willing I was to beg for a man, but I was too far gone to care.

“Vale, hermosa.” He thankfully obliged my request, pulling my drenched panties to the side and running his thick fingers through my folds. “Te sientes muy mojada, carajo.”

His words stoked the blistering heat in my core, causing me to whine, “I said I needed you now, Javi.”

“So demanding, hermosa.” His eyes rolled as well in response to my command. Thankfully, he did listen to me somewhat and started to undo his belt buckle. Once he was free from the confines of his criminally tight jeans, I realized he didn’t have any boxers on.

“No boxers? Even on a raid?” I got another eye roll directed at me for that comment, plus a little scoff. Though I had teased him, I wasn’t displeased in the slightest. His cock was a rosy brown with the head flushed red and he was thicker than anyone I had ever been with. Maybe, he’d let me take him in his mouth sometime.

“Shush, got to be quiet in here. Wouldn’t want anyone seeing would we?” The smirk he flashed me after he mocked me made my knees even weaker. Before I could think of a retort he had slung my right leg over his slim hips, pulled my panties aside again, and lined himself up to my entrance. He ran the head of cock over my clit a few times just to pull a few whimpers from my lips, of course he couldn’t help but keep on teasing me. He sunk into me finally after I had sufficiently been teased enough for his standards. Immediately he started a fast past, his cock slamming into me hard enough to mix pleasure with pain deliciously. Our chests were pressed together tightly, the thick Kevlar vests that were not making the heat any easier rubbing up against each other. A moan escaped my lips despite my attempts to stifle them by biting my lips, he then captured my lips in another bruising kiss to stifle the moans that were now unconsciously falling from my mouth. Sweat dripped off of both of us as he continued to fuck me, I didn’t care about the heat this time. I could get over any obnoxious temperature if I got to be with Javier, even if it was only for a moment.

My head slammed back against the wall, the pain still did nothing to dampen the pleasure I was feeling as Javier’s cock dragged through my walls at a blistering pace. I was dangerously close to the edge even only after a few minutes of our thighs slapping against one another.

“Cum for me, hermosa.” He grunted into my neck, his pace only faltering slightly as he got closer to his own high. With a few circles of his thick fingers on my clit and a pitch of his hips towards my g spot, I fell off the edge. Javier’s hand clamped over my mouth as he helped me ride out my high, to prevent another one of my moans from alerting anyone as to what was going on in the embassy’s storage room.

“Where can I-“ He spoke breathlessly after I had ridden out my euphoric high.

“In my mouth.”

I fell down onto my knees immediately taking his cock into my mouth, not caring about the sharp sting in my knees or the fact that the floor probably had never been cleaned by maintenance. It didn’t matter much, I was already dirty everywhere else.

He grabbed the back of my head, tugging at my hair hard before pushing his cock as far down my throat as possible. I groaned around him at the feeling, glad that I had gotten my internal wish of being able to suck his cock. It only took a minute until he was spilling himself inside my mouth with a quiet groan from his plush lips.

He pulled himself out of my mouth after he had ridden out his high, then graciously helping me off the ground. After we had cleaned ourselves up as best as we could in silence, that was unfortunately awkward. I guess this was probably going to be a one time thing. I should’ve known, Javier doesn’t do relationships.

“Wait.” My steps away from him stopped as I started to exit the storage room. I turned around to face him, even though I was probably going to just be told that this wasn’t going to happen again. Though, I still opened up my ears to listen, “I wanted to tell you before we fucked, but I wanted to let you know that I don’t just want you for sex. I want you beyond that, hermosa.”

The words he spoke were cloying to me; I never expected someone like Javi to ever say those words to any woman, even during post coital bliss. Though I wasn’t bulletproof against his charms, they snuck under the vest and shot me right in the heart. I didn’t want my vest to protect me from him anyway, I gladly returned the affection.

——-

Spanish to English translations (I’ve only got a little bit of a grasp on the language so there may be mistakes)

Apúrate!- Hurry up!

Vale, hermosa- Ok, beautiful

Te sientes muy mojada, carajo- Oh, you feel so fucking wet

—-

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works:

@shotarosleftpinky

Javier Peña/Narcos:

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña smut #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #1000 follower celebration #1000 followers #narcos x reader

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trivia-bangtan · 3 years

Text

after (jjk) - 005

pairing: patient!oc x patient!jungkook

genre: friends to lovers au, kinda a hazel and gus trope, | lots of angst, fluff and suggestive themes

warning: this chapter gets extremely dark 😭 (nothing new lol)

authors note: omfg im so sorry it’s taken me so long to post 😩 the schedule might change from now on bc my schedule changed 😅 but hope u guys enjoy it 😩😩

there's a phobia called agoraphobia. it’s basically the fear of places and situations that can cause panic, helplessness and/or embarrassment. usually, i can deal with it. but things like cringe worthy scenes and overly cheesy romance is unavoidable.

especially being friends with jeon jungkook.

i knew better than to hand out my phone number to just anyone, but i thought maybe jungkook would be so busy with his own life, he would leave me alone.

for his parents' sake, i hope he had unlimited talk and text for his plan. the boy texted me first thing in the morning and every hour or so. he would call me at night, sometimes even facetime me, just before he went to bed. and even when we would hang up, he would still text me goodnight.

the only other person i would talk to everyday, other than my parents, is hoseok. hoseok was my older cousin, but one of my closest friends as well. but even hoseok gave a break during the day to allow some “me time” for the both of us.

jungkook was relentless. he would always text me “good morning sunshine” and then text me “good night my moon”. what the hell even was that?

as much as it was annoying, it was endearing in a sense. i guess it was nice to have someone other than family constantly checking up on me. but some part of me couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of what namjoon had said and if he felt obligated to have to talk to me.

i knew jungkook wasn’t like that. but a small part of me couldn’t help but convince myself that it could be true.

“so the guy texts you all the time? it’s not a big deal,” hoseok said, sitting across the island in his kitchen. i stuck my fork into my bowl of fruit, impaling a small blueberry in the process.

“i mean, it’s not but it’s weird. hobi, i’ve never had someone crave to talk to me so often. and i swear it has to be because of what our counselor said,” i mumble.

the thing about hoseok is he has an aura that gets you to spill all emotions. much like jungkook. but the difference between the two of them in my life is that i’ve known hoseok a lot longer and can confirm he can keep his mouth shut.

“well contrary to your belief, you’re a decent person to have around,” he shrugs, giving a strawberry in his mouth. i snort at his comment and roll my eyes.

“wow, what a compliment. it’s a wonder you’re single,” i chuckle, shoveling the fork full of blueberries into my mouth.

“i’m single by choice. what about you?” hoseok smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” i asked, laughing at his expression.

“what?”

“the whole thing?” i respond, laying my fork down onto the counter, leaning onto it with my elbows, forearms flat as i folded my hands.

“i’m single because i choose to be. i prefer comforting solitude than forced company,” he shrugs, continuing to shovel fruit into his mouth.

“forced company?” i ask.

“yeah. like, just because we’re together, they feel obligated to HAVE to hang out with me or invite me everywhere when, in reality, i don’t give a damn. i mean, you know me. we both value our solitude and respect that. but it’s hard to find someone that understands that. and then i’m the bad guy for wanting alone time when really, it’s a mental health break,” hoseok explains, his eyes locked onto the bowl in front of him.

his statement surprised me. he was always such a people oriented person. as kids, he was the first to make friends between us and always such an extrovert. it kind of hurt to know eventually his whole personality switched. but maybe being so wrapped up in my world and in my own issues, i failed to acknowledge the people around me.

the atmosphere changed after that. almost as if there was a sad reminisce in the air.

“do you think you’re forced to keep me company?” i blurted. i couldn’t deny, the thought crossed my mind multiple times before. was everyone around me just babysitting to make sure i didn’t hurt myself?

i couldn’t tell. i knew asking would be dumb. hoseok would never tell me the truth. he’s usually a pretty blunt and up front guy, but he would never outright hurt my feelings. which saddened me even more. would he willingly lie to comfort me? knowing what i knew?

“do you think i am?”

“yeah,” i honestly admitted. we both sat in silence, taking in my answer.

it wasn’t a lie. like i said, the thought had crossed my mind. every time he placed his phone down on the table to force himself to give me his attention. the way he seemingly dropped everything immediately if i asked him to hang out with me or pick me up some place. how i never heard of him being with friends.

the more i sat there, the more i threw myself into overdrive, thinking until my head started to pound from overthinking.

“well, you’re wrong,” he sighed. my eyes flitted up to gaze at his face. he looked sullen, almost like my answer had upset him. i released a silent huff through my nose, smirking in the process.

“you don’t have to protect me,” i murmured quietly.

“my mom called me. she begged me to come home one day. i didn’t understand it at first, but she's my mom. i did as i was told. when i got home, she didn’t say anything, just told me to get in the car. i remember thinking to myself ‘what’s got her feeling this way? why is she being ominous with her actions?’ the whole drive, she said nothing,” hoseok said, a distant look in his eyes.

“she ended up pulling over at some park. it was late, so i didn’t recognize it at first. but then i realized what park it was. it was the park we went to as kids. and, again, i kept wondering to myself why she was being enigmatic with her actions. and then she spoke. she said six words and then didn’t speak the rest of the week,” he said, his voice shaken with sadness.

“what did she say?” i asked softly, my voice a mere whisper. hoseok looked up at me, his eyes glazed red.

“your cousin tried to kill herself.”

i felt like the air had come out of my lungs.

it’s funny, people like to talk about your attempts, but nobody ever tells you where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. nobody tells you the pain they feel or the hurt. the anger or the betrayal. they pretend like what they felt didn’t happen to convince themselves it wasn’t real and they could move on. because it didn’t work and you’re alive.

but hearing hoseok tell me about his experience, it stirred something in my heart and i hadn’t felt in a long time.

regret.

“she didn’t even mention if you survived or if you were okay. that’s all she said. and because she was crying, i assumed the worst. i had assumed you died. and it felt like everything in me… stopped working. like, i forgot what it was like to not have you by my side. every… every memory, every laugh. every inside joke. it was like a corny ass film playing at 2x speed in front of me. my mind kept telling itself this can’t be real. she wouldn’t do that to me’. but the longer we sat there and the harder she cried, i couldn’t take it. i jumped out of the car and just started running. i didn’t know where i was going but i just had to run because the car was so suffocating, i thought i was gonna pass out. and i kept asking myself ‘why her? why couldn’t she just talk to me? why didn’t she tell me she was hurting? does she know how much i love her and that i would do anything to keep her here?’ and then i was pissed because i thought you had abandoned me. that you didn’t care about me or your parents or my mom. but then… once i stopped running… i felt bad for you. because i could never imagine the amount of loneliness you must’ve felt thinking the only way to solve this was to end it all,” he said through his compendious recount of that night. i could feel the hurt and regret make its rounds in my heart, forcing my body to follow. it physically ached to hear hobi recall every moment of that night. “i’m sorry,” i cried out, crying into my hands.

“that’s why i hang out with you. that’s why i talk to you. because i don’t want you to feel that kind of loneliness ever again,” he admitted, sniffling. the hurt and regret only further festered and made me cry over hard to the point where i felt like i couldn’t breathe. hoseok stood from his spot, making his way around the island. he stood in front of me, pulling me into his chest, my arms wrapping around his waist. i hadn’t hugged anyone in years, and the amount of care and love hoseok had emitted through his hug made me cry even more.

“and that’s why i’m so glad you have jungkook. because when i can’t be there, at least he is,” he explained, rubbing small circles in my back.

though my doubt was still heavy, and i felt as if he had an ulterior motive, hoseok’s words comforted me in a way.

jungkook had been nothing but kind, never intrusive or inquisitive about my history or my feelings. he spoke to me because he wanted me to know that he cared.

and for the first time in forever, i felt something else too.

hope.

#bts #kpop #bts jungkook #jungkook #bts angst #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook

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bard-llama · 3 years

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Hello again! May I request Rorveth for the ship game again? Maybe prerelationship 2, General 1, 5, Love 2, Domestic 9? Have a good day

Always! Rorveth owns my heart and I can always talk about them lol.

Pre-Relationship #2: What was their first impression of each other?

Hmm. I mean, there was definitely some hate, lbr. But I think there was also a lot of admiration? Well, I guess it depends on what we count as first impression. When they first learn of each other or when they first meet?

Because Roche found Iorveth long before Iorveth knew he existed. Roche had a crush worked intelligence, analyzing data and putting together who their targets in the Scoia'tael were. So I think he and Thaler and other intel folks would have come up with code names for each unit commander that they knew of (probably something lame too), but as we see in the game - the Scoia'tael are PROUD of their commander. They cheer Iorveth's name as they go into battle. It would not take many confrontations to start to put names to positions. So Roche's first impression of Iorveth would be one of someone recognizing a skilled opponent. But it would also be heavily countered by the details of what exactly Iorveth is using those skills for. Because they probably have an office somewhere in the Temerian royal palace that's full of pictures stuck to bulletin boards and string connecting them lol. So he'd have front and center in his mind exactly how brutal Iorveth can be.

So when they meet, I think Roche expects to appreciate Iorveth's ability, but hate him as a person. But then Iorveth introduces himself playing the fucking recorder flute!? Like, that had maybe been shared in intel, but it was the kind of meaningless detail that Roche had never really paid attention to. Which was a mistake, as it turns out, because Iorveth is every bit as much a musician as he is a soldier. But Roche only learns that later.

On Iorveth's side... well, he'd first hear of Roche when Roche and the Stripes, on their first day, slaughtered an entire unit of Scoia'tael. So I think Iorveth's first impression would be fury and hate, but also, as time goes on and it turns out that wasn't just a fluke, he'd come to respect Roche as an enemy commander. Then they meet and Roche is so full of hate for killing his king and Iorveth wasn't expecting that to hurt, but it really actually does. And he tries to shove it down and ignore it, but the feeling lingers long enough that he ends up seeking Roche out post-W2.

General #1: Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Following the thread above... I think Iorveth did, but semi on accident. So he goes searching for Roche after Saskia has established Vergen and doesn't need him quite so much and this longing just won't stop nagging him. So he seeks Roche out and basically manages to say something along the lines of "I can't stop thinking about you and I'm going to make it your problem". Then he proceeds to follow Roche around and criticize his attempts at guerilla warfare as the Temerian partisans kicked off. Roche finds this absolutely baffling, but like, Iorveth is more experienced with this sort of thing, so why not take his advice? After arguing about it extensively, of course. Ves thinks this is all a Scoia'tael trap and keeps a very close eye on Iorveth. So close, in fact, that she notices the way that Iorveth looks at Roche over the campfire in the evenings. And once she notices that, suddenly the signs that Iorveth adores her Boss are everywhere. And she doesn't really know what to think about that or whether to tell Roche.

Not sure what she decides, but she definitely threatens Iorveth. And actually, I could see that being the first step in them coming to like, actually respect one another beyond "wow, you can kill a guy pretty efficiently". Like, maybe Iorveth begs asks as nicely as he can that Ves not tell Roche, because he's certain that it would only ruin things. And yeah, the longing is still there, but it's not so bad now that he has Roche in his life at all. He is grateful for as much of Roche as he can get.

i think Ves would be perfectly fine with that at first, but as she grows to appreciate Iorveth more as a person, she starts to feel bad. Because like, he very clearly loves Roche. And yeah, he probably has complicated feelings about loving a human, but like...he so clearly does and it's kind of pathetic but in a way that tugs at her heart and she HATES feeling sympathy for an elf, but...

I don't think she tells Roche directly. But she basically tells him that Iorveth is always staring at him and he should ask why. (Roche: because we're enemies, duh??? He's watching to see if I make a move to shank him, isn't he?)

General #5: What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Oh man, okay, this one is fun to play with. So, Roche is shorter than everyone most people and he is resentful about it. That whole thing about shorter people being closer to hell? Yeah, he is that 100%.

Iorveth, of course, enjoys very much that he is taller and will 100% grab Roche's paperwork or something and hold it out of reach just to enjoy Roche attempting to climb him to annoy Roche.

For age difference, I hc Roche as late 40s and Iorveth as around 1300, so it's a pretty big difference lol. I go back and forth on what elves think of such age differences, 'cause like... 40 is the age of majority for elves, so I could see them pointing at tired and wrinkled Roche and going, "that is a baby!"

But also, realistically, if they live so long (which they don't in canon, oops), i think they'd be a little more blase about age differences, as long as they're over the age of majority for their culture. Especially considering that they lost basically an entire generation of elves with Ailerinn's failed uprising + other pogroms like the cleansing of Loc Muinne, so like, the only elves left are either really old (pre-Conjunction) or really pretty young (200-300yo max, I think). So even if they don't already not care that much about age differences, I think they'd have to learn to, because there's not a lotta other options left.

(Not to derail, but Isengrim being torn up over being so much older than Eldain could be really, really fun, so I might ignore this lmao)

Love #2: What are their primary love languages?

Ooooh, Roche's is definitely touch! Just soft, casual touches, like a hand on the back or the shoulder, or just brushing their arms against each other or knocking their shoulders together to show that he's here. I think his receiving language might be more words of affirmation than touch, though. But that could be due to trauma/the fact that everyone in court does one thing and says another. So like, Foltest will clap him on the shoulder and then also go send him to torture someone. But then he'll also say 'good job' when Roche gets the intel they needed. So he has... kind of a fucked up relationship with both ideas, honestly.

Okay, I couldn't remember all 5 love languages, so I looked them up and fuck, Roche is very much acts of service, too. But in a self-sacrificing way.

Iorveth... hmm. I could see maybe receiving gifts just because it was such a rare and exciting thing when he was young. But along the same veins, I think quality time would mean a lot to him, because his family never made time for him. He always felt like he was in the way/bothering them while they're busy and hasn't fully yet come to understand that they should have made the time for him. So when Roche does things like call off work for the day to do something with Iorveth? Iorveth absolutely melts. I don't think he previously understood that time together could be precious, not because it's limited, but because it is special.

Domestic #9: Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Iorveth is a night owl. And very much NOT a morning person. Roche is also not a morning person, but he doesn't even get the exchange of being a night person, he's just eternally Tired. So I think Roche tries to encourage Iorveth to come to bed during the night, but is rarely successful, because Iorveth feels inspired. Fortuntely, Roche has ear plugs/enjoys music when he sleeps.

But when one of them gets really fixated on their work and loses track of the time? It's almost always Roche obsessing over some ig or small problem, and Iorveth will try to get him to come to bed, but usually he has to resort to physically sitting in Roche's lap/getting between Roche and the fixation. But once he's gotten Roche distracted, he can get some nice cuddles and/or sex out of it and Roche falls asleep afterwards.

But when they wake up in the morning and need to get up and go to work? It's always Iorveth who tries to persuade Roche that if he can't get 30 mins more sleep, then he could at least offer some morning sex.

#rorveth #a mention of #isendain #iorveth x roche #the witcher #ask game #fic planning #idk why i'm tagging these as fic planning #but i feel like i should read them again when i go searching for ideas/inspiration #longpost

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icollectyoursins · 3 years

Text

Kishibe Rohan x Reader SFW + NSFW

Anon said: “Consider Rohan sfw and nsfw hcs? And in nsfw Rohan could be a top,,? Prrtty pleade hhh, since there is only one work of Rohan ;;”

I hope these are good, not too familiar with Rohan, so I hope you like it!

Wanna know what I’m willing to write? Rules here!

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Making out, stands used in inappropriate ways, fingering, voyeurism, dildos, fucking machines, spanking, hand jobs, blow jobs, oral, face fucking, cock warming, nipple play, nude modelling.

Word Counts: 2201

SFW

Rohan is a jackass who cares. In the beginning, he’s very private and stand-offish, but he does warm up to you eventually, though he’s still nicer in private than he is in public. He claims this is because he’s a “celebrity” and can’t have his fans see you too close together yada, yada. It’s bullshit and you know it, but you have the feeling it’s because he’s not used to people being close to him.

Yes, he does have a binder dedicated to paintings, drawings, sketches, etc. all for you. Some are a little on the artistically lewd side, but most of them are of your hands holding something or your smile, your face and shoulders. Some of them he asked you to model for, others he quickly sketched down while you weren’t paying attention and then finished later.

When he’s not holed up inside, he enjoys walking down to either parts of Morioh where he can people watch or down to the park where he can study wildlife (and maybe draw you playing with ducks).

You are literally never bored in his house. He has every book under the earth and so many loose painting supplies that he painfully lets you use to fool around. (Though let’s be honest, He likes that you take an interest in his job and would be more than happy to give you tips.)

You know what? Rohan is a backseat artist. He watches every stroke you make over your shoulder and tells you maybe you should move the hand this way to make it more natural or add some light shading here to make it dynamic. It may come off as a little pretentious at first, but if you keep with it, he’ll notice the improvement and (occasionally) tell you how good you’re doing while being a total blushing mess.

You sat in the window seat, knees up with your back against the wall. Resting on your thighs was a sketchbook. Currently, you were just idly drawing lines of shading onto a face. Rohan himself was also busy colouring in his most recent page, though every now and then he would catch himself looking up at your silhouette, lit up by the light in some kind of halo effect.

Finally, he caved in to his curiosity. Setting down his pencils, he strode over to you. You didn’t notice until his face manifested itself over your shoulder. Startled, you jumped, causing your pencil to make a long line on your artwork.

“Jesus, warn me next time.” You said, grabbing your eraser.

“Have you been struggling with the nose?” He completely ignores you, still staring at your drawing. The paper was clearly marked up by the eraser with deeper marks from where the pencil was.

“Yeah, actually. It’s either too big or too small. Kind of just gave up.” You carefully tried to erase the long line but wound up taking away parts that you were actually happy with.

“Be more gentle with the pencil, it’ll make it easier to erase.” He suggested with a monotone.

“I tried-”

“And then you got frustrated and pushed harder. I admire your persistence, however, if something isn’t to your liking, walk away and come back. Remember to look at the picture as a whole, not just the nose.” You rolled your eyes, gently tossing your pencil onto the window seat. As much as you wanted to appreciate the advice, you had heard it all before. You were getting sick of it, frankly.

Rohan took note of your agitation, studying your face carefully. “You’ve improved, though!” You looked up, a little shocked. What? “The eyes are well done and your shading is very even. Good job.”

What? Your cheeks grew hot. That was the first bit of praise you had heard from him. About your drawing, at least. He looked down into your eyes, then felt his own face getting hot. He turned away. “Go take a break. I’ll help you when you get back in an hour. I’ll be timing you, don’t be late.”

Like I have said, he’s not overly fond of affection in public (in the beginning), but he can’t deny that holding your hand or feeling you on his arm makes him feel pretty good. The first few times, he’s internally a mess, though he won’t show anything other than a light tint of blush on his cheeks. But when he’s relaxing at home, he enjoys having you under his arm, leaning against him or with one of your heads in the other’s lap. He’s not used to people and even less so used to affection, but can be worked up to being more comfortable with stuff like kissing in front of the Morioh gang and the like.

When he’s comfortable, he is so cocky. Like, boarder line makes out with you in front of literally anyone just to prove you’re his S/O. This always makes you blush so much (unless you’re into that.) More often than not, he’ll have an arm around your shoulders, hand in pocket, looking so smug and proud and cool.

Pet names? He can either go one of two ways, depending on his mood. Either it’s just your name or babe OR it is every teasing name under the sun. Oh, darling can you do this for me? Oh, baby, oh, honey, oh, my love, oh, my flower. It’s usually used to get something from you or to get you to do something a little out of the box.

I can see Rohan as being the kind of person who is very strict about his bath time and hates when people interrupt him. On the rare occasion, he’ll let you in with him with the promise of either massaging him or something else *wink, wink*

NSFW (Dominant specifically)

Rohan literally does not shut up during sex. Praise, degradation, mocking, you name it! As a writer and an artist, he knows how to stitch words together in a masterful way that never fails to make you hot in the face.

Uh, yeah. He’s used Heaven’s Door on you before. Did he do it to learn your kinks? Maybe to put some kind of loose control over you in certain situations? Looking for people you find attractive for potential erm... art inspiration (voyeurism)? The world will never know.

Staying-on brand with HD, he absolutely uses it to learn everything that you enjoy in the bedroom. He knows how to make you squirm, where to push to make you scream, how to make you beg. He knows everything.

Particularly enjoys using this “power” to finger you, pressing into every sweet spot (that he made more sensitive with HD), licking over the edges of your hole in a way that just makes you dumb (either hole, not picky!)

A delicate finger was trailed up your twitching hole, making you shiver. Rohan had already stretched you open enough for it to easily slip in again. You were so sensitive from being teased over and over again, but with no relief that you cried out, tears threatening to burst forward.

He curled his finger up into a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves, slowly pushing into it more. You groaned and whined, blabbering out his name along with various ways to beg. He shushed you carelessly, sounding annoyed by your desperation. God, you wish you could move! You would give anything to be impaled by him right now. Or anything for that matter.

He removed the digit quickly, then promptly smacked your ass with a flat hand.

“Quiet.” You had no choice but to listen to him, involuntarily shutting your mouth and stifling your whimpers. “If you want something, be polite about it. Do you know how to be polite?”

You nodded your head, a single tear trailed down your cheek. Your hole was teased again, repeating the same process as before. Rohan was such an asshole, but god if you didn’t love it.

If you have established a relationship where he has complete control over everything you say or do, he will abuse it so much. Just, tells you to sit still, turns on a wand or vibrator and just tortures you to the point of tears. You can talk, he didn’t take that away (mostly because he wants to hear you beg), but the position he put you in on top of the order. It’s too much for you.

He’ll do the same with a dildo, a fucking machine, his own dick, does not matter! Once you give him that power, RIP to your organs.

Alright, now. Voyeurism. This man is a freak and does not try to hide it when it’s under the guise of “art.” Again, if established, he will hire random people to do whatever he wants to you. If you’re okay with it, he’ll record it for later research.

Rohan is a weird jealous type, so he checks out every person you meet and makes sure they’re perfect (ie. not competition and someone you’ll enjoy). Very rarely does he let you pick out the people. Like I said, he’s a weird jealous type. Likes to see you with other people, but not with other people, you know?

There is only one person who he considers competition that he wants you to fuck at least once and it’s Jotaro. Are we surprised? No. Dude is built like a god and has the goods to match. Even Rohan can’t deny it. He would probably want to join in as well, but Jotaro would never do anything like that.

Mmmm, punishments for being bratty? Ooooh, yes. Smack my ass like a drum! Makes you count, absolutely. If he’s in a bitchy, lazy mood he’ll use a paddle or something like that, other than that, he uses his hands.

As you’ve probably surmised, he likes having control over you in the bedroom, so it’s no surprise he also enjoys tying you up and has a particular fondness for swings where he’ll hang you up and tease you until you can barely walk.

I mentioned baths in the SFW section, now let me elaborate. Doesn’t like sex in the bath, he hates when the water gets everywhere, but loves when you worship him while scrubbing him down and will allow you to work him up with a light hand job. This usually leads to a blowjob of some kind whether it’s gentle or rough.

Speaking of! His favourite part of sex is probably oral. From sucking bruises into each other’s necks, rough kissing, right down to holding you against the wall and choking you with his dick. Or a dildo, if he wants something a little more adventurous like mirror sex with him taking you from behind and making you watch yourself choke over and over again.

Cock warming is only ever used as punishment for being too needy, but he will keep you in his lap until you’re in tears. He is absurdly patient when it comes to sex.

You whined, grinding yourself onto Rohan’s dick. He chuckled before letting out a theatrical sigh. Your grip on his shoulders got harder and you buried your face into his neck more.

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” He trailed a soft, teasing hand up your thigh. “You wanted attention, yes? Then, why are you complaining? Now, up, I need another look at my reference.”

You sighed, tired and riled up at the same time. With new vigour, you sat up, leaning back to show your artist his latest obsession. He hummed in appreciation, taking a minute to admire his muse before licking a warm stripe up your sternum making you gasp. He stopped, giving you a look of warning.

“Don’t move.” You gave him a curt nod, trying your best to follow your command while he returned his tongue to your chest, exploring your skin’s taste. He flicked over your nipple with the tip, testing your resolve before wrapping his lips around it, sucking harshly. A moan fought its way through your throat as he became more feverous with his suckling.

Rohan hummed with you, theatrically mulling over the saltiness, then switching to the next one. Satisfied with the redness around your nipples, he pulls back, looking you over once again. A lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he reaches for his sketchbook which only made his cock shift inside you, rubbing against your walls in a delightfully painful way.

“Rohan-sensei,” you moaned out. Admittedly, you didn’t like calling him that, but he insisted you call him sensei during times like this.

“Stop moving, you’re ruining the picture,” he chided. “Go back to the way you were, darling.” He leaned back, rolling his hips into you to punctuate his words as well as tease you.

Model nude for him. Whether you like it or not, he will ask you to do it and, if he’s in a sexy mood, you will be asked to do uncomfortable positions that will definitely leave you sore the next day. “It highlights how the muscles work for a new character I’m drawing” or so he says. Other than that, he’ll just let you pick somewhere comfortable and sexy to lie down.

#kishibe rohan not sfw #kishibe rohan n/s/f/w #rohan kishibe n/sfw #rohan n/sfw #rohan not sfw #rohan n/s/f/w #kishibe rohan x reader #kishibe rohan x reader n/sfw #kishibe rohan x reader not sfw #kishibe rohan x reader n/s/f/w #rohan prompts #not sfw #sfw

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bluebellwriting · 3 years

Text

Love Me Tender part 1

An Alastor x Chubby!Reader in which you are Angel Dust’s older sister

You were in the middle of baking a cake when your little brother and the two girls dead-set on helping him walked into the hotel. It was supposed to be a celebratory-post-interview cake/congratulations-on-Angel-being-clean-for-two-days cake, but after you heard the interview from the little radio you had set up in the kitchen, it was now a condolences cake. Also Angel was no longer receiving any cake, which would probably be the only thing to motivate him to stay clean for a few days.

You love your little brother with all your heart, as you do with all of your siblings, but you had to all but force him to come to this hotel because you were sick of watching him kill himself for shits and giggles... well, not “kill” himself, but you get it. And he just wasn’t taking this seriously. It’s not like you wanted him redeemed, even if you did believe in it. The best part about being in Hell was that you were finally reunited with your siblings and dad. But if these girls could at least get him to stop putting himself in precarious situations and therefore cause you a little less grief, you would be eternally grateful. So you stayed at the hotel with him, just to keep him in check and also to take break from the drama that was Hell’s respective mafias. Charlie had also begged you to stay because you were an excellent cook and baker from years of making meals for your hopeless siblings.

You poke your head out of the kitchen door to see Charlie sulking and Vaggie scolding your brother. Sighing, you return to your cake, deciding to have a little chat with Angel afterwards. You couldn’t handle any arguing right now. You had just had a rather annoying conversation with your other brother regarding Angel’s progress, how you should give up on him and just come back to work with him and your dad:

“He’s a lost cause, (Y/N),” Arackniss had groaned.

“He’s our baby brother, you prick. Besides, I’m getting a little sick of mob-business. I need a break.”

“Dad’s not gonna like that. You’re his favorite.”

“Just tell dad I say hi and that I’ll see him for family dinner.” You slammed the phone down.

So yeah, you really just wanted to shove your face in the bitter dark chocolate confection as soon as possible. Now that they were all home and somewhat safe, you took this moment to turn the volume up on your radio, letting some Ella Fitzgerald and Doris Day drown out the arguments. You also apparently drowned out the arrival of a red-clad overlord.

“So tell me, what do you have here in way of a staff?” Alastor scans the lobby of the hotel, quite unimpressed with the choice in decor and the dust. Honestly, there was dust everywhere, it was disgusting.

“Well...” Charlie motions towards the glowering moth demon and he shakes his head. How did the young princess expect to get this place off the ground with a less than welcoming manager and a debauched patron? Speaking of...

Alastor makes his way over to the lounging spider and gives him a curious smile.

“And what can you do, my effeminate fellow?”

“I can suck your dick.” Oh dear Lord, who raised this creature? It takes everything within Alastor not to cringe and to keep his smile up.

“Ha! No.” Angel shrugs then points a finger towards the closed kitchen door.

“There’s also my sister.” Alastor’s ears perk up and he strolls over to the door. As he nears, his sensitive ears pick up the sound of Ella Fistgerald, the distinct sound of radio static, and another feminine voice singing quietly along. Alastor’s grin widens as he slowly opens the door so as not to make a sound. Revealing you, an incredibly small and ample young lady making frosting. He leans against the doorframe, watching your fluffy (h/c) hair bounce around and your ample hips swaying to the melody of “Dream A Little Dream of Me,” a song from before his time but not too much later. He takes a whiff and smells the familiar bitterness of dark chocolate, the only sweet thing he can remotely bear. Well, this establishment is just full of surprises, isn’t it?

He’s not quite sure how much time passes, in all honesty he’s perfectly content watching you shimmy your way around the kitchen, which is strange for him. He can count on one hand the number of people he enjoys spending more than ten minutes with. Well, maybe he’ll just have to add you to the list, if your taste in music is anything to go by at least.

“Hey sis! Ya got a secret admirer!” The shrill voice of Angel rings in his ears and causes you to whip around and brace yourself against the counter. You wrap both sets of arms around yourself like a shield and frown at him briefly. Alastor freezes at the hard glare, even if it’s only on your face for an instant before it softens to a confused stare.

You recognized the Radio Demon immediately because, unlike your brother you actually kept up with politics. You made it your business to know who was worth knowing and who was dangerous enough to avoid, and thankfully up until this point you were able to avoid his path of carnage. But the man before you isn’t smiling wickedly like you had always imagined. There isn’t blood in his teeth nor is he invading your space with the intention to strike. No, this man is just standing idly in the doorway with a wide, friendly smile. And he’s tall, like really tall. And way too thin. Goodness, when was the last time he ate?

“Um... hello,” you say quietly, still keeping your arms around you, a habit when you’re around strange men. He lurches forward and you flinch, not just because you’re scared of him specifically (you are a bit though), but because you have a... complicated history with men rushing you.

He leans down slightly but makes sure to tower over you still, and grabs one of your hands before you even know what’s going on.

“Alastor, darling. A pleasure.” His voice is oozing static and glee, but he’s not as loud as you thought he would be. He leans down and kisses your hand like a proper gentleman, something you haven’t experienced since you were a young girl.

“And who might you be, darling?” You catch your brother passing by the doorway, snickering at you and you realize that he still hasn’t released your hand. You tug it away from him and give him a polite but small smile.

“(Y/N). Very nice to meet you, sir.”

“Sir! Why I haven’t been called that since, well, since the last time I had a wretched soul cowering before me!” He laughs hysterically and you shiver at the thought.

The smell of cooked chocolate invades your nostrils, and you briefly wonder if saving your cake is worth turning your back to this man. He seems to decide for you.

“Why that smells delicious, dearie.” He strolls over to the oven in only two steps and plucks your cakes out of the oven with a bare hand. You gawk at him, because he seems completely unbothered by the scorching metal in his hands. He crosses the kitchen back to you and places the pans down on the counter, flashing you a proud smile like he’s showing off.

“Can’t say I’m a huge fan of sweets, though. But this smells so good, I’ll just have to try.” He goes to snag some of the cake from a pan and your older-sister instincts take over before you can even stop yourself. You smack his hand. You smack the Radio Demon’s hand. His neck snaps towards you at a painful angle at an inhuman speed. His eyes turn into radio dials and his smile is just vicious. But you don’t seem to care in this moment and just shoot him a stern glare.

“You can’t have any yet. It’s hot and I still need to frost it. You can have some when it’s ready with everyone else,” you tell him simply and bump his rigid body to the side with your hip to begin frosting.

Alastor is stunned. Because he hates being touched when he doesn’t expect it or initiate it. Because years of being an overlord means that you have to keep your guard up for any sort of attack but he doesn’t seem to mind when it comes from you. Because you weren’t actually attacking him you were just... protecting your cake? Because you didn’t seem to really care who he was in that moment and he kind of liked that, that you weren’t afraid to defend what was yours, even if it was a cake. Because you weren’t just a shy little spider anymore. You were spunky.

He wills his eyes to return to normal and smirks at you. He reaches on long arm over your shoulder and attempts to steal some frosting but one of your arms smacks his hand away again. He continues, his attempted assault on your cake and each time one of your arms smacks him away while the others focus on frosting the cake expertly. You’re quite annoyed by his mocking. Alastor is the most entertained he’s been in years. He loves the way your eyebrows crease together as you concentrate on piping, and the wrinkling of your nose when he gets too close to ruining said piping.

When you’re finally done you whip around and glare at him.

“Are you done?” you ask. He just gives you an innocent smile in return and shrugs his shoulders. You roll your eyes and push past him to carry the cake out into the lobby for everyone to enjoy. He stays in the kitchen a moment longer, watching you march away and taking in the tingling felt on the spot where your small form brushed against him. He’s shocked, completely and utterly shocked at how much he wants to hold on to that tingling feeling.

The radio continues to play as the song finishes

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries far behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Alastor decided then and there that he was going to make it his mission to get you more comfortable around him, if it meant he’d get to see more of the spirited young lady with excellent music taste.

Dream a little dream of me

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #x chubby reader #x chubby!reader #they say write the stories you want to see

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giowritess · 4 years

Text

Dull — Michael Corleone

masterlist. | michael corleone.

Pairing: Michael Corleone x fem!OC Tatiana van Doren

Plot: Tatiana and Michael have always been pushing each other’s buttons. One day, when confronting him about a deal that went south, their relationship takes a different path.

Warnings: cursing, sexual themes — choking, vaginal fingering, intercourse, unprotected sex, edging.

Word-count: 2,555

Kinktober: prompts — • 4. begging • 10. against the wall • 11. hatesex • 12. fingering • 13. edging • 32. choking

Author’s note: Wassup people!!! Sorry for taking so long to write something. I finally wrote something about one of my all-time favorite characters, who doesn’t have a big fandom but should. If you don’t know what The Godfather is about, all you need to know is that they’re gangsters and this man is perfect. This lovely piece I wrote alongside the most precious being on universe that’s @pacinorose! I love you so much and I can’t thank you enough for entering my life. I haven’t written smut in four years and this is my first attempt at it. This is also my 1st official post for kinktober. About the banner/gif: @littlefreya‘s inspired me to do one. The gif edition is mine, but I don’t know who the gif itself belongs to (let me know if you do). I really ope you all enjoy it! Also, not beta’d. xoxo

Tatiana van Doren was not a force to mess up with. The van Doren family and the Corleones had always been on each other’s bad side. Their mutual hatred transpassed the invisible strings of time and, all that despise, disdain and hostility towards each other carried on through generations and generations. It definitely hadn’t missed out on Tatiana van Doren and Michael Corleone, the oldest children to take over the two businesses.

Interaction between the two of them was always hard. The only exceptions were when both had to attend any kind of social gatherings, where they had to maintain politeness and grace. Usually, they were always at each other’s throats like cat and rat, always pushing each other’s buttons to nothing but pure and inexplicable rage. Michael always made Tatiana turn into an angry beast who wouldn’t keep quiet, and she did the same thing to him. He couldn't even recognize himself when he was around her. Michael always tried his best to suppress his emotions and stay indifferent, but with her, he just couldn’t do that. He brought out the worse in her, and she did the same to him.

So, that meant that business between them was nearly impossible. They'd joined forces against a common enemy and that involved mastering a hazardous business deal which included exchanging weapons imported from the docks. Of course, it hadn’t been easy to find something both agreed on.

“Miss van Do-”, Michael’s secretary started to speak, standing in a flash from his chair in a futile attempt to try and stop her.

Tatiana was on a warpath as she blasted through his office door and almost took it off its hinges. She didn’t give a damn about discretion and was ready to take out the revolver from her thigh holster and shoot any bastard that dared to stand in her way.

Michael’s eyes were wide from the action as he snapped his head up from his work. His eyes soon narrowed when he saw exactly who had interrupted him and caused such a scene. Her dark, doe-eyes no longer had that sparkle full of mischief and teasing. Instead, they held complete and utter anger as she pierced holes into him, her chest weaving up and down in an erratic rhythm.

“I tried to stop her, Mr Corleone. I’m sorr-,” his secretary started. Michael interrupted him putting his hand up, a gesture for him to be quiet before he silently dismissed him and he left both alone.

Michael took a deep breath and finally brought his eyes back to the brunette girl. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with her day-to-day teasing and uncontrollable annoying mouth, that just wouldn’t close without spurting snarky comments about how he conducted his work.

“Do you not listen, princess?” he asked with a calm voice, his brow arching in question. He clenched his jaw so tightly he thought his teeth might crunch under the tension of his frustration, .

Tatiana’s face completely fell in disbelief at his audacity, and her eyes soared into his so intensely the Corleone almost took a step back. Him calling her like that made her blood boil, and he knew that.

“I’m sorry? I don’t fucking listen?!” the words started to violently fall from her lips, like bullets hitting their targets. “I told you not to move the contraband under a fucking full moon! We agreed on that! And what do you go and do?!” she asked, prodding her index finger towards him as she spoke. Her eyes were wild with fury as she looked at him.

While she did her small angry speech, Michael couldn’t help but notice how well that floral-print summer dress hugged her body, leaving little to the imagination. To his imagination, that would happily fill in the gaps late at night, both when he couldn’t sleep and when he’d dream of her. Of course, his dark desires were well hidden as he kept a stern look and averted his eyes back to his desk. He moved his hand to align a piece of paper that fell as he stood up to confront the intruder in his office, shrugging her comment off with an emotionless glance.

This only pissed her off more.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” she continued, striding in front of him so she'd force him to make eye contact. She was fuming. “My men could’ve been caught because of you. Because you’re so fucking dull.”

Her fast breathing matched his clenched body, and she couldn’t help but feel a shiver run right through her while he looked down into her eyes. He seemed to be staring right through her. They'd never been so close before and, by how he was staring at her, she couldn’t help but feel like a prey, about to be devoured by its predator.

“You’re a dull fucking bastard,” she mumbled, not even a bit intimidated by him.

He inhaled so quickly and sharply before he brought his hand up to her throat, she had no time to register what had happened. Tatiana winced as she felt the impact of her back hitting the wall, her eyes immediately locking onto his. She wasn’t surprised by his action. Instead, it surprised her with the effect it was having on her. Her body was tingling everywhere, sending shivers through her spine and sending a fire straight down to her core. The feeling of Michael’s strong hand clenched around her throat, not hurting but still strong enough to keep her in place, was doing more to her than she wanted to admit. That she would like to admit. He could squeeze the life out of her if he wanted to — the predator could easily devour his prey. But by the look on his eyes, she knew those weren’t his plans.

She gathered her posture back up, that mischievous glint that he so much hated returning to her eyes. Even though she wanted to be devoured by him, she couldn’t help the words coming out of her mouth.

“What are you going to do, Michael? Kill me,” she asked, her voice slower than usual, “or fuck me?” she rolled out the last words with the pop of her tongue, sounding almost like a purr.

Unsurprisingly, he slammed his lips down to hers, pressing her further against the wall, his hand still strong on her throat. Then, he pulled away abruptly as his hand loosened its grip around her neck, uncertainty making its way to his mind. As Tatiana slowly opened her eyes, he thought that she was the most beautiful woman on Earth at that moment, without the ice wall she had built around herself. He knew that doing what she did, she had to protect herself, but she was even prettier when she didn’t need to hear that mask. And she definitely didn’t have to wear it around him. Michael could see straight through her without any effort.

Tatiana could see his jaw clenching as she brought her hand to his neck, slowly dancing her fingertips over his skin. As they reached his face, her eyes repeatedly travelled from his lips to his eyes, which were following every single one of her movements with attention. His chocolate eyes softened at the look of longing in hers, but then it was gone as fast as it came as she smirked up at him. Her fingers finally reached his lips, tracing a line in them before moving her hand to the back of his neck and entwining in his soft hair as she stood on her tiptoes and brought her lips to his, pulling him closer by the neck. It was slow and sensual, giving each other to explore that uncharted path that they had been longing to discover for a long time now. His hand left her throat and travelled down her back, while the other found the back of her neck. Their kiss got needier and hungrier by the second, the mutual desire finally coming to light after being repressed and ignored for so long. They kissed until both couldn’t breathe, pulling away and kissing again, letting their tongues dance together in a harmony they could only find in each other.

She could feel herself getting flushed, her skin hot, as if she could make fireworks explode every single time that sinful mouth of his made contact with her skin. He was kissing a path down her neck and her collarbone, quickly pulling down and exposing her breasts, begging for his attention. The shape of his erection pressed against her felt like hard marble, and it only made her even wetter than she already was, feeling her panties soaked.

A moan left her lips as his hot mouth sucked on her breast, and Michael felt his cock twitch in pain at that heavenly sound. He hadn’t even touched her where she needed him the most, but she was already a panting mess from his kisses alone. He knew he was going to leave marks on her body as he sucked, kissed and bit every piece of skin available to his reach.

Her heart skipped some beats as he started kneading on her thigh, her whole body tensing with expectation and anticipation as his hand went up slowly. She knew he was doing that on purpose — he wanted to torture her, and it was working. Michael finally found the hem of her underwear and stole the air out of her lungs when one of his fingers dipped down her cunt, meeting no restrain.

“So wet for me,” he whispered in her ear, watching carefully every reaction that crossed her beautiful face.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

Tatiana had to cling to his white shirt as his finger swiftly entered her, moans and sighs leaving her mouth as they pleased. Her eyes fluttered closed as he started moving up and down, his finger soon joined by another, while his other hand remained on the side of her head.

But his torture wasn’t going to end. When her heart started beating faster and her breathing got unstable, he slowed down, only to speed up again when her breathing went back to normal. Over and over and over again, lever letting her chase her high. He could see the eagerness and irritation on her face. The fact that she was entirely at his mercy and under his control only made him harder, if that was even possible.

“Michael…” she moaned. He could hear the exasperation in her voice.

“Yes, princess? he replied in a mocking tone, never stopping his movements.

He knew how impatient she was growing.

“I… I want you,” she admitted, making a smirk appear on the corner of his lips.

God, how ironic it was for the roles to be inverted.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, darling,” he said, his hot breath against her neck.

“I want you,” she repeated, this time staring into his eyes. Her voice was nothing but a desperate plea. “Your cock, buried deep inside me. Please," she muttered, almost whining. "Please, fuck me. Please!”

Her raspy voice full of desire and need turned a switch inside of him. Having her beg for him was exactly what he wanted, and now he just couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted her too, badly, and he couldn’t wait to be inside her. Pulling his fingers out, he held her by her thighs as he picked her up and placed her on his desk, throwing its contents to the floor and not giving a fuck about it.

Tatiana watched impatiently as he unbuckled his belt and finally released his cock, painfully hard. She couldn’t help but lick her lips as she wondered how it would feel on her mouth, against her tongue.

And then he thrust into her, and she felt like her brain had short-circuited and stopped working. Was she even alive? Was she breathing?

"Like this?" he asked, but she couldn’t even reply. "You like it when I fuck you like a whore?" his voice was almost aggressive, his hands holding tight on her hips where he knew would be purple tomorrow.

A breathy "yes" left her lips, followed by a series of moans that only made him even closer, feeling the way her velvet walls enveloped him with perfection.

"I bet,” she started to say, but a loud moan interrupted her, “you've… you’ve dreamed..." it was hard for her to finish her sentence, getting harder and harder to form coherent thoughts, "of this."

Even with his cock thrusting in and out of her and hitting every right angle, making her roll her eyes with bliss and see stars, she still managed to be snarky.

“All the fucking time," he growled back, and one of his hands found its way to her throat, squeezing lightly, testing the waters. His other hand was busy, rubbing circles in her clit that made her feel as if she was going to explode.

He knew he was in good waters when his name left her ajar lips in a scream, Tatiana shutting her eyes closed, overwhelmed with the pleasure building up inside of her. Quite satisfied with himself, he applied a lot more pressure around her neck, and he felt her getting tighter around him.

"Fucking you on my desk until you couldn't speak was all I wanted when you wouldn't shut up," he said, punctuating his last words with some particularly hard thrusts.

"Michael," she moaned, almost begged, and his name on her voice could've made him come alone. It could easily turn into one of his favourite sounds, and he could get used to hearing it all day long.

Well, he had fulfilled his goal — she was nothing but a moaning mess under him right now. She couldn’t form a sentence even if she wanted to, her brain simply wasn’t working. The only word that came out of her lips in-between moans and sighs at that moment, the only word she knew, was “Michael”, chanting his name like a prayer as if he was a god meant for her to praise.

He admired her as she threw her head back in complete bliss, her eyes clenched tightly and her mouth agape as the pleasure overtook her. Her hands were gripping the edges of his mahogany desk so firmly that her knuckles were turning white. No one could say this was the mighty, feared Tatiana van Doren, cheeks red and flushed, out of breath and eyes out of focus, her breasts exposed, spread out on his desk while he impaled her with his cock, each time sending her over the edge and into oblivion. To him, she had never looked prettier.

Michael was completely enthralled by her, mesmerized by the way she moved, her face, her expressions, the way she grasped his cock and made him see stars. It was as if she’d cast a spell on him, making him feel like no one had ever done before. Now that he finally had had a taste of her and her ferocity, he couldn’t let her go anymore. He couldn’t even understand how he’d gone so long without her, but now he knew he definitely couldn’t keep on without her.

Who would have imagined all it’d take to tame a beast was another beast?

#giowritess #pacinorose #michael corleone #michael corleone smut #michael corleone fanfic #imagine #fanfiction #smut #writing #the godfather #michael corleone x oc #collaboration #kinktober #kinktober prompts #kinktober writing

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vaire-gwir · 3 years

Text

I’ve run out of my words

Post-mountain incident, Jaskier is a heart broken mess. The last thing he needs is an unexpected visit from Geralt.

I have accepted that it’s never going to be the same amount of words as I Find you all Unwoven, cause I re-wrote this three times and it just doesn’t happen.

Again, I was sad, that’s my excuse. English is not my first language, hope it doesn’t terribly suck!

***

It hurt a great deal when Jaskier sold his lute. He was attached to it for more than just sentimental reasons. Sometimes he felt like his life truly started the day he got that lute.

He was used to pain by now though, pain was just another thing creeping under the surface, it came and went in waves like the ocean, sometimes threatening to overwhelm him with memories and sometimes resting among the broken pieces of his heart, hissing like a snake waiting to strike.

It was always there, he just perceived it in different ways: some days it was like being on the edge of an empty abyss of nothingness, about to fall but never really tipping over, just going through the motion. Other times, there were the long nights when sleep refused to visit him and he'd get this urge under his skin, to move, to do something, anything to not feel trapped in his own flesh, caged by his own mind.

He tried to fight insomnia with the ink, but he proved a terrible fighter. He couldn't write anything anymore. When he tried to play, his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, and he'd get even the simplest of melody wrong, resulting in endless frustration that kept him up until dawn.

As much as he tried to outrun his ghost, he always ended up running right into it, and if he managed to keep his waking hours relatively Geralt-free, the dreams were always there. His journals paid the price of waking up for the hundredth time, after a nightmare that leaves him choking and incapable to stop the tears from falling down his cheeks.

He thought he'd feel relieved after watching it crackle and burn to ashes, as if destroying the evidence of his time with the Witcher could also destroy the heartache that came with it, but it doesn't work like that. Nothing he ever does stops him from being hollow.

Jaskier walks around the Academy like a shadow, trying to keep himself busy between lessons or at least trying to keep Geralt out of his thoughts. This simple task proved to be more complicated than he anticipated. He doesn't want to be here, he's not made for teaching and his students get on his nerves all the time. To be fair, most things get on his nerves since the mountain incident, but he doesn't have many options.

Sure, he could go home to his family, beg their forgiveness and implore his father to allow him back into court. That sounded as promising as jumping off a bridge.

Compared to that, even the room Madame M. offered him at the brothel looked like a golden palace. At least he had some talent for sex, he managed to convince even a Witcher to sleep with him, that hadn't been easy.

Jaskier stirs his mind in a safer direction, cause thinking about those nights will not do him any good. He still blames and curses himself for coming up with that stupid arrangement, cause why not Geralt, I'm here all the time, and I'm obviously very willing, besides you don't have to pay me, looks like a win-win situation to me. Looks like you're a special kind of idiot, Jaskier, that's what you are. Why did Geralt even accept anyway?

Jaskier blinks the memories away and focuses on trying to have lunch, cause that's what sane, normal people do. He's still struggling with normal though.

His plan flew out of the window when someone started to sing. Jaskier froze in his spot when he recognized the song. He wrote that. He should be pleased to hear it, but it's not pride he feels when he glances in the direction of the curly-haired boy in green velvet.

He will never play or sing another song again, and people will forget him sooner than Geralt did. The folks in this tavern don't know him, they don't know he wrote those lyrics to distract himself the first night Geralt didn't come back from a hunt and he feared for him every second of that dreadful night.

He spent hours cursing the Gods for making him so useless and prayed to them in the same breath, begging for their mercy. He felt stupid later, when Geralt showed up at dawn saying it took him longer than expected to break a curse. Jaskier told the Witcher how scared he had been and Geralt dismissed him as the fool he was.

He's scared of being forgotten, of being meaningless and unimportant. No one is going to remember Jaskier, the bard that traveled the continent with the White Wolf and shared his adventures.

He left Jaskier on top of that mountain, he's just Julian now, just a teacher, just another idiot that got his heart broken. Geralt left him like everyone else. That's what people do, they just leave and move on with their lives. So why couldn't he move on too?

There's a small shift in the air, and while he tries to regain control of his thoughts, for some unknown reason, destiny, the universe, life or the Gods, make him turn his head toward the entrance.

There is no mistaking the white hair he sees, or the dark armour. Jaskier knows he has to leave before Geralt sees him. The sole idea of Geralt being here is enough to leave him shaking.

What are the chances of meeting the Witcher outside Oxenfurt? There were no contracts in town, why was fate trying his best to mess with his life today, was the song not enough? He feels like his head is swimming and he knows he doesn't have time to panic cause his heart beats so loudly he fears Geralt will spot it in a second.

He puts some coins in the maid's hand and stumbles out of the place.

He can't face him. Not today. Probably not ever, cause he can't imagine he'll ever be ready to face the one that broke his heart without holding any anger or resentment towards him. Why must he feel like this, Geralt never cared for him, so why is he still drowning in his feelings for the idiot?

Jaskier is a poet, he should know a thing or two about heartache. He should also know that he's out of luck today.

"Why did you follow me, Witcher?" Jaskier feels his presence a few paces behind him, still so painfully familiar to him even after all these months.

"How did you know..." There's a puzzled expression on Geralt's face. Jaskier knows he's not prepared for this.

It takes him a second to realize that no matter how angry he is at the Witcher, how deep his sorrow runs and how broken his heart is, a small part of him is almost glad to see him. It's the same small part that decided to talk to a stranger and follow him on a dangerous journey, the one that figured out first that what he was feeling was more than a crush, and that accepted every scrap of affection Geralt showed him like he was being handed the world on a silver plate.

Geralt is exactly how he remembers him, and his betrayer heart jumps in his chest when their eyes meet.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." I love you, I'd recognize your steps everywhere, the cracking of the leather in your gloves and the click of the metal of that buckle in your armor you always forget to fix after a hunt, I know them as if they were my own. I love you, and you broke my heart. That's what he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat, they're no use now.

"I... You were not singing." Jaskier knows it's not surprise he sees on Geralt's face when he answers "I don't do that anymore." but he can't figure out what it is.

It hurt when he realized he couldn't bring himself to sing or play anymore, it left him feeling even emptier than before, cause he always thought he'd have his music to console him, to defend him from the things life was throwing at him, to build a wall around himself and protect whatever was left of him. How wrong he was.

"Why not?" Jaskier wishes he could explain that when they parted on top of the mountain, when he forced himself to say "See you around Geralt" knowing he'll never see him again, when he tried to process those heavy words that rolled off the Witcher's tongue, his love for music, for poetry, for life, rolled off too and hid somewhere he couldn't reach anymore. But Geralt never cared for his music.

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Keeping his tone even and preventing his voice from breaking is hard, harder than any performance he ever had to do. Ten months ago feel like a lifetime away now, it doesn't even seem real. The ache in his chest is always there to remind him that it is.

"That's not true." Jaskier sees how he clenches his hands as if those words meant a great effort for him. The Gods know how many times he looked into Geralt's eyes after singing, desperately seeking his approval and finding only a mild annoyance, like this was just another thing he had to endure.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Jaskier wants to be annoyed, he should be furious for what Geralt did to him, for leaving him like he meant nothing, but these days being mad is a lot of effort. He doesn't have it in him anymore, it's easier to let go of the anger. It doesn't make him feel less empty or less broken anyway.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier laughs bitterly.

"Really Geralt? That's rich coming from you. Now you want to talk? You know what, no. No, you don't get to come here and tell me you want to talk after I spent ten gods forsaken months trying to forget you. Don't you fucking dare. Not like this. Now if there's something I can help you with, do say so. If not, spare us both this conversation, I'm not sure I'm in the mood to have my heart broken again." Jaskier is not even sure there is something left to break.

He'll never admit it but deep down he knows there's no forgetting Geralt. And he curses that small part of him that wants to listen to him, to let him talk and explain, cause he knows that he'd go back to traveling with the Witcher right this second if he so much as says he'd take him back. Stupid, stupid Jaskier. A Witcher apologizing, as if.

"I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier." Saying goodbye, even knowing that it's for the best, doesn't make it any less painful.

"You were right." Geralt looks at him in a way he has never seen before, for a second he thinks it's hurt that he sees flickering in those golden eyes, but it lasts a second. He should know Geralt doesn't care about him enough to be hurt by something he says or does.

"You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands. But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

His voice breaks at the end, he feels the tears stinging his eyes and he turns to walk away before Geralt notices it. Pain comes in waves, and today he's drowning.

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic #the witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher fandom #the witcher fic #geralt/jaskier #sad jaskier #heartbroken jaskier #fanfiction #quarantine writing

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butterflyinthewell · 3 years

Text

So I’m working on a fanfic about Hannibal being diagnosed with early onset Alzheimer’s and Will struggling to come to terms with that.

I’m realizing it’s really a commentary on how society treats people whose brains work different.

There is no point where Will loves Hannibal any less and he never sees him as less than human, but doctors and other people do.

Most of the story is from Will’s POV, (I start each chapter in Hannibal’s memory palace as it’s crumbling) but I have Hannibal’s perspective running in my own mind too when we watch him through Will. So when Alzheimer’s causes Hannibal to act weird, I know exactly what he thinks he’s doing or where he thinks he is in place / time, and his behavior makes perfect sense according to where / when he thinks he is. Will and the readers won’t have that side of it, so to them it seems Hannibal doesn’t know how to behave. He has his lucid moments where he’s acutely aware that “I have Alzheimer’s and my brain is failing me”, though they diminish as his brain deteriorates. But he really doesn’t know what he’s doing when he’s not lucid, though sometimes he can remember it later and tell Will what happened. Those moments are heartbreaking.

So as an example of visible behavior vs what I know and don’t tell you: Will sees Hannibal smashing a rolling pin against the kitchen counter, but Hannibal thinks he’s cleaning up to prepare for a dinner party the next night and he’s frantic because there’s a lot to do and not much time, and he can’t get the counter clean. Once Will figures out Hannibal is trying to clean, he trades the pin for a sponge and helps him “clean”. Hannibal forgets why he was so frantic once they’re done, so now he can go to bed and sleep instead of keeping Will up by banging on the counter for hours.

You can’t reason with a confused person with Alzheimer’s once they’re past a certain point. It’s easier to just step into their reality and guide them gently in the direction you hope they’ll go. (Will is very hit and miss at doing this initially, but will get good at it later!)

Most people would suggest take the rolling pin away, but that would get in the way of the need Hannibal is trying to meet and lead to a fight. From his side it looks like Will is preventing him from getting ready for esteemed guests. Will trading the pin for a sponge is meeting Hannibal where he is, calming the anxiety he’s feeling and gently nudging him where he actually should go (to bed). Hannibal is happy with that because his need was met.

There’s another scene in a grocery store where Will doesn’t pay attention to Hannibal’s signals that this isn’t working, and it leads to Hannibal causing a bit of a ruckus. The store is restocking and there’s boxes and chaos everywhere. Hannibal can’t handle that, so he starts taking things out of the cart and putting them on the shelf like he’s at the checkout counter because that’s what you do when you’re about to leave the store. But Will misses that signal and puts things back into the cart, and suddenly a very angry Hannibal flips the cart over and hollers that “this isn’t correct” because he can’t access the language to explain he’s afraid.

Will has to talk him down from a panic attack and help him out of the store. Later, Hannibal is able to explain to Will that disarray frightens him because it looks like his memory palace, and when that happens he can’t tell his inner world from the outer world and doesn’t know which one he’s “speaking” to. But small bits of disarray become something Will can use to calm Hannibal down by giving him messy things to organize. (Hannibal is obsessive about organizing stuff, it’s soothing for him.)

Their love language evolves too. From speaking in metaphors to just speaking, then they progress to actions and finally end on touch.

Will needs to realize it’s less about what Hannibal is losing and more about what’s still there.

Hannibal is going to lose who Will is, but he never loses the fact that he loves him. Some days, he will look at Will and fall in love with him over and over like the first time he saw him in Crawford’s office, because in those moments every time is the first.

And that is what Will needs to realize. Their love hasn’t been lost.

Btw, Hannibal doesn’t stop being dangerous till the final stages of Alzheimer’s. He’s about midway through it when he almost mauls the staff at a hospital because they’re being nasty to him when he’s confused! (They chemically restrain him with Haldol and are super shitty liars about it). That experience is actually what gets Will to see that people are going to treat Hannibal like he’s not really a person anymore. Let’s just say the doctor who ordered the Haldol isn’t gonna survive. It’s Hannibal...that means people get eaten! 😌

Also, the fanfic starts after they’ve been married for 10 years, so the year is 2030 at the start of the fic. I’m writing this pretending the story of Hannibal began sometime in late 2010, Will pulled them off the cliff in 2015, they got some aliases to disappear and moved around America dodging the FBI for another five years.

The pre-story post-fall timeline goes like this:

December 2019: Will and Hannibal have been on the run for a long while, but they stop in Hawaii to have a nice, tropical Christmas. Hannibal can’t remember the volcano’s name is Kilauea.

January 1: 2020: They get married on the beach. It’s sort of spur of the moment, but they took the time to buy tuxedos and rings. Their tuxes are white with silver accents. Hannibal has a silver vest and bow tie. Will has a silver bow tie and cummerbund. They say their vows at sunset by the water.

Late February 2020: Will and Hannibal leave Hawaii for Cuba just as Covid-19 is hitting. They’ve already bought a house, so they move in. Both test positive for covid. Will stays asymptotic and never gets even a tickle in his throat. Hannibal gets the whole deal without getting sick enough to end up in the hospital, but recovers. He has some long covid issues, like shortness of breath and fatigue.

2022: Hannibal survives the widow maker heart attack and it’s discovered he had the heart attack because covid damaged his heart. He gets quadruple bypass surgery and spends a lot of time in ICU recovering. As he gets better he realizes his memory isn’t what it should be. Doctors tell him his heart stopping from the heart attack and the bypass surgery can sometimes cause some memory loss. Hannibal starts relying on his phone and GPS more and more. Will begins to suspect something is wrong, but the doctors reassure him that it’s temporary, so he lets it go.

(Fanfic begins here.)

2030: Hannibal is making mistakes in cooking, cleanup, paying bills and just everyday stuff, but he doesn’t think it’s weird. He blames “kids” when questioned about why he put dishes away dirty or burned dinner. Will is noticing things aren’t right, so he begs Hannibal to see a doctor. Will thinks it’s something solvable, like encephalitis or some other organ. But no, Hannibal gets looked over from head to toe, inside and outside, sent to a neurologist and finishes with his diagnosis of early onset Alzheimer’s. (He’s 58 at the time of diagnosis, but the disease process started when he was 48 and it was missed for so long because of the heart attack.)

As soon as he’s diagnosed, Hannibal starts making plans for Will to be his medical power of attorney, in control of their bank account, in charge of his advanced directives, etc.. He sort of drops it all onto poor Will, who barely gets time to absorb the news before he’s signing stuff. Will is in a tailspin of emotions.

It’ll take Alzheimer’s 20 years to chew through Hannibal’s brain. It’s not always gonna be pretty or easy to watch. At the end it becomes clear Hannibal is waiting for something, and he passes as soon as those final needs are met. Hannibal always has to have control of something, right? Right!

I’m gonna throw all your feelings into a washing machine and spin them. It’s what I’m good at with fics like this.

Anyway...

I have very specific images of how Will and Hannibal look at the start of the fic. Will is still pretty af, but a lot less friendly looking, and Hannibal looks like a scruffy Norse dad.

The most beautiful part about writing this (for me, anyway) is watching how Will learns to understand Hannibal’s communications as his language abilities deteriorate. He will continue to see and hear him even when most other people won’t try to watch or listen. He learns to be less “stop that, it’s annoying” and more “what need isn’t being met and how can I meet it? How can I step into his world to be with him where he is?”

Finally, their wedding song is important to the story. This was their first dance song. It’s their song. Will sings it to Hannibal a few times in the fic, and if he plays it on his phone it can break through the Alzheimer’s fog and take Hannibal back to the bank safe in his memory palace where he keeps their wedding day. Yup, he keeps that memory in a safe and it’s the last thing to go. ❤️

youtube

#hannigram #Alzheimer’s #tw medical abuse #tw hospitals #tw chemical restraint #eye contact #long post #Hannibal #Will Graham #Cyndi is writing

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whenihaveyouromione · 3 years

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 31

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

Posting early due to me travelling :)

A/N: The 400 Galleons mentioned in this chapter equates to about $2000 US, for reference.

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Chapter 31

When Ron woke the following morning, the feeling of giddiness that had consumed him for the remainder of the party returned immediately. He had a plan now, and as he’d drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning, the plan had taken hold in his mind.

He could almost see every detail clearly. He could see the type of place he’d like to take her so that he could ask her. It would be romantic, and just the two of them. They’d be alone. He could see the type of ring he was going to get her. He had always had a vague idea, but it had taken a clearer shape right before he fell asleep.

Diamonds. Lots of diamonds. And he was going to get it engraved with something. What, he didn’t know yet, but he hoped it would come to him soon.

But the most important part was that he didn’t even feel nervous. Just excited, happy… he’d promised her months ago that he would ask her, and she’d promised him that when he did, she would say yes.

He knew what her answer was going to be, so all he needed to do was make sure he asked her in a way that she wouldn’t forget.

Rolling onto his back, he stared up at the ceiling and chuckled. Had someone told him even five years ago that he would one day be lying in a bed that he shared with Hermione, in a flat that he also shared with her, happy, relaxed, more than halfway through Auror training and planning the moment he’d ask her to marry him, he would have laughed at them. Not only was Voldemort causing destruction everywhere, he’d been utterly convinced that he and Hermione were never going to happen. Hadn’t they had many chances to get there, and something always went wrong? Lavender Brown, his own lack of confidence, wars, timing…

He laughed again, just as Hermione came into the room, still in her pyjamas, and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Something funny?” she asked.

Ron propped himself up against a pillow, watching her as she got herself ready for a shower. “You’re up early considering we had a late night last night.”

“You’re up late considering you insisted you have a lot of work to catch up on today.”

Was it just him, or was there something in her tone that suggested she didn’t believe his story about having work to finish? Harry — the idiot — hadn’t helped much when he had stated he thought Ron had completed everything.

“I need to be refreshed so I can concentrate,” Ron told her. He thought for a moment. “Let’s have dinner next Saturday.”

“What?” Hermione stopped rummaging through the wardrobe in search of something to wear and turned to face him.

“You and me, next Saturday,” Ron said cheerfully. “I’ll organise it.”

For a moment, Hermione didn’t answer. Then, she said, “Why are you trying to organise dinner for next week now?”

“Just agree, would you?” Ron said.

Hermione sighed. “Okay. Next Saturday.” She turned back to face her wardrobe, but Ron didn’t miss the smile that fell across her lips as she did so.

This was exactly why he needed to surprise her with a very nice ring.

When Hermione took herself to the bathroom, Ron pulled himself out of bed, groaning as he did so. He'd rather enjoyed the Muggle wine offered last night in the end, and it had all been free.

But he couldn't let that stop him from his plans today. He had three hours at best, based on previous lunches with Hermione's parents. Maybe four if his dad decided to ask ridiculous questions about kettles or refrigerators.

He had never shopped for a ring before, and he didn't know of any places that might sell one. Engagement rings weren't common in wizarding society, though he did know they existed. But where, he would have to find out.

He didn't recall any in Diagon Alley, but perhaps Hogsmeade had a shop. He hadn't really paid attention to what else was there when he'd been at school. Jewellery hadn't exactly been at the top of his list when he'd visited with the school, nor had he contemplated one day proposing when he was thirteen years old.

But he'd check Diagon Alley first, and if that failed, then he'd Disapparate to Hogsmeade and see what they had to offer.

A short while later, Hermione emerged from the shower and returned to the kitchen where Ron was dressed and making himself breakfast.

"Is there anything you want to do before you have to do your work stuff?" Hermione asked.

"What?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking amused rather than annoyed. "It's lunch, Ron, so I'm not seeing my parents until midday." She paused, suddenly frowning. "Should I have given your parents more detailed instructions about arriving at Mum and Dad's?"

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, Summoning toast to his plate.

"Well… I mean, I told them to Apparate to the garden, but I forgot to mention it had to be precisely behind the hedge so as not to be seen…"

"They're not idiots, Hermione," Ron said. "They've been Apparating for longer than you or I have."

"I know that, but they aren't familiar with my parent's place. They won't know there's a hedge."

Ron looked at her for a moment and then shrugged. "I'm sure they'll figure it out. If not… well, what are the chances of someone watching the front garden at that precise moment?"

"There's always a chance!" Hermione said.

Ron shrugged again, biting into his toast. "Maybe you could go and get them right before?"

Hermione was thoughtful for another moment and then nodded. "I think I will."

"So that means you'll be leaving a little earlier?" Ron asked.

Hermione's eyes snapped to him, then narrowed. "It sounds like you want to get rid of me. Are you planning on inviting your secret girlfriend over?"

"What? No, I don't have —" He paused, now noticing the smile that had crossed her face. "Ha, ha."

“Well, you seem very keen to get me out of the house. I’ve never seen you more excited to kick me out. Normally, you beg me to stay.”

Ron stared at her for a moment, wondering if he’d been a bit over the top. Then, he said, “I just have a lot of work to do and want to get a head start on it. That way I’m all yours in the afternoon.”

“Well, I’ll leave by eleven-thirty and try to be home no earlier than two o’clock. Is that enough time?”

“Yes!” Ron said. I hope.

Hermione smiled. “Good. Now, back to my question: is there anything you want to do before I go?”

Ron returned her smile. “Just be here,” he said. “I love you.”

…

Ron had never been keener for Hermione to leave the house. Considering she’d already questioned him about practically being kicked from the flat, he didn’t say anything for the remainder of the morning. But he couldn’t help clock watching as the seconds ticked by much slower than usual. He tried to steal quick glances at the time when he thought she wasn’t watching, but she caught him on more than one occasion.

But finally, eleven-thirty came, and Hermione was ready to leave.

“Enjoy your… work,” she said, kissing him goodbye. “I can’t wait to hear all about it when I get back.”

“Won’t be anything exciting,” Ron assured her. “Have fun! Say hi to Mum and Dad for me. Love you.” He returned her kiss and all but pushed her out the door.

He hurried to the window to make sure she was on the street and he could see her Disapparate. When she was gone, Ron also left the flat.

He hurried down the stairs and into Diagon Alley himself. He had absolutely no idea where to start looking, but decided to turn left. He could at least come back and go the other way if he came up short.

Diagon Alley was very crowded, which was to be expected for Sunday at midday. People from all over Britain chose the weekend to do their shopping, and they all seemed to like to come here. Ron and Hermione found other things to do — most of the time visiting her parents, doing something with Harry and Ginny or visiting the Burrow, which then led to staying for dinner. It was a downside to living so close to the main shopping place for witches and wizards in London — they got sick of seeing too many people.

Ron ignored them today, however. In fact, he didn’t even feel irritated by them. What was there to feel irritated by? Nothing. He was deliriously happy that even bumping into George, who emerged from the joke shop, didn’t bother him too much.

George waved Ron over, who pushed through the eager children lining up to get through.

“Good business today?” Ron said.

“Always,” George replied, smiling. “May I ask where you’re off to?” he then asked. “If I remember correctly, last night you told Hermione you had work to catch up on.” He raised an eyebrow. It was as if he knew. Did they all know?

“Just having a break,” Ron said, as casual as he could.

“Before you’ve started?”

Ron looked away.

“You’re not sneaking off behind Hermione’s back, are you?” George’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“What? Why do people keep… no, I’m not.” He turned his eyes back to his brother. George’s eyebrows were raised in a way that suggested he’d been joking, but there was still an element of genuine curiosity in his expression.

Ron sighed. “You don’t know anywhere around here that sells…”

“Sells what?” George asked.

Ron hesitated. He’d really had no intention to tell anyone about this — not even Harry.

“Engagement rings,” Ron said, lowering his voice as if the passersby actually cared what he was doing. Well, he reasoned, it actually was a possibility these days.

George’s eyes widened in surprise as Ron felt his face go red. Then, George grinned. “Well, that’s exciting!” he said.

“Is there a place around here?” Ron pressed.

George thought for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Right near the entrance to Knockturn Alley. I don’t know what they sell exactly, but I’ve seen some things in the windows at times. The old wizard who runs it has been there for years. I sometimes hear my customers talking about it. He offers reasonable prices.”

“Alright,” Ron said. “Thanks.” He made to continue on his way towards Knockturn Alley, then paused, turning back to George. “And don’t mention this to anyone, alright?”

“My lips are sealed,” George said, grinning. “Good luck!”

“Thanks,” Ron muttered, suddenly not feeling anywhere near as confident as he was a few moments ago. What if this place didn’t have what he was after? What if the owner tried to sell him something dodgy, yet charge him a fortune? Ron wouldn’t have a clue whether or not he was being robbed of his money. But he was sure Hermione would be able to tell.

He reached the entrance of Knockturn Alley and looked at the shops surrounding it. There was a small apothecary reeking of unusual smells, a secondhand spellbook shop, and to the right, he found what he was after.

It was a dingy little place, right on the divide of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, and as he entered, he knew immediately that he’d not find what he was after in here.

Nonetheless, a smiling old wizard greeted him.

“What can I do for you today, Sir?” he said. He barely reached Ron’s shoulders and craned his neck to peer up at Ron.

“Er…” Ron looked around the tiny shop, his eyes scanning for any sign of rings. The only thing he saw was a gold one with a giant red ruby in the centre. He didn’t want ruby. “Just looking, thanks,” he said, and hurried away to a corner to peer at some bracelets.

They were nice enough, but he definitely didn’t want them.

He stayed as long as he thought possible so as not to appear rude, and then left. Once back out on the street, Ron wasted no time in Disapparating to Hogsmeade. It had been in his plans, and he had such little time.

Hogsmeade was also bustling with witches and wizards, many emerging from The Three Broomsticks a little drunk.

As it was a relatively warm day, many were stripped of their wizarding cloaks and lounging on seats or steps.

Ron wandered past them quickly, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of rings in shop windows. There had to be something somewhere. Whilst not a necessity, many wizarding folk still had engagement rings. Someone had to sell some somewhere.

After a little while of searching, he finally located a spot up a side alley behind Honeydukes. It was so discreet that he almost walked past it entirely had it not been for the diamond necklace that sat in the window.

His nerves were bubbling as he entered the shop, knowing that this was the exact place he was looking for. The Sparkly Stone had so much jewellery he simply stood there, entirely lost.

“May I help you?”

Ron jumped at the voice, turning to find a middle-aged witch with greying blonde hair standing behind him. She wore deep purple robes and a kind smile that told Ron she really did want to help him.

“Er, yes,” he said, now feeling extremely nervous. “I’m looking for an… engagement ring.” He flushed red, and he didn’t know why. There was something very real about saying it out loud in the shop that would give him the ring.

“Oh, I have many to choose from!” the witch said cheerfully, and she beckoned Ron to follow her over to a cabinet.

Ron immediately saw a large selection of rings, all different colours, shapes and sizes. Some sparkled, some even changed colour. Some were clearly enchanted, while others looked like plain old rings he’d seen Hermione’s parents wear.

He tried not to gape.

“Are you after anything in particular, Mr Weasley?” the witch asked. It really didn’t come as a shock to him that she knew his name; Ron had long gotten used to random people knowing it over the years.

“Um,” Ron said, staring at the cabinet. “Diamonds.”

The witch nodded and withdrew her wand from within her robes. She tapped the cabinet with it and all the rings that contained diamonds appeared on top of it.

“This is what I currently have. Does anything catch your eye?”

Now that Ron had far less to choose from, there were two that drew his attention. One contained three small diamonds, while the other was one large diamond.

“Those two,” he said, pointing them out.

The witch used her wand again and the others went back into the cabinet.

Ron studied them, but he already knew which one Hermione would prefer. The one with the single diamond was too big and too clunky and he knew she would hate wearing it (even if she never said so to him). But the other one with the three smaller diamonds was absolutely perfect.

He was about to tell the shopkeeper this when a thought occurred to him. This felt too easy. He’d been in the shop for all of five minutes. He’d only really looked at two rings.

“Can I see the other ones, too?” he asked.

The witch happily obliged, taking out each ring containing diamonds for him to look closely at. The others were nice, but he kept coming back to the three diamonds. That was the perfect one for Hermione; he knew it.

He swallowed. “That one,” he said pointing to it. “How much is it?” He’d have to go back to Diagon Alley to get money from the account. Hermione would notice, he knew, but again, his plan wasn’t to surprise her with a proposal. He’d surprise her with the ring. “And can you engrave it with words?”

“That one is four hundred Galleons. To engrave, it’s an additional fifty.”

Ron’s mouth fell open. That was an awful amount of money, and it was something he didn’t think he’d be able to afford. Not right now and probably not with Hermione coming at him with her wand for taking out so much money at once.

His heart sank. That one had been perfect for Hermione. Well, everything except for the price.

“This one is one hundred Galleons,” the witch said, taking out a much uglier ring, with much smaller diamonds. He’d passed on that one immediately. “Perhaps much more in your price range?”

Ron flushed. “What about that one?” He pointed to the one with the large diamond.

“Six hundred Galleons.”

Ron stared at her.

“We do offer the opportunity to pay off our items,” the witch continued, and Ron could tell she was taking pity on his dilemma. “Gradual, smaller payments over the course of an agreed amount of time.”

As quickly as they’d sunk, Ron’s spirits lifted again. “I can do that!” he said.

The witch nodded. “I can offer a repayment of eight Galleons a week for a year.”

Ron nodded. Eight Galleons a week was doable. “I’ll take it,” he said, beaming.

“I do have just one condition,” the witch continued. “Whilst I allow gradual repayments, I’ll not part with the item until it is fully paid off. I simply put it aside for no one else to buy.”

“What?” Ron said. “But I need it for next week!”

“You may pay for it upfront,” the witch said. “But I’ve had far too many people take off with items in the past having not paid for them, so unless you want to sign a magically binding contract — which does not make me look good as a business owner, forcing my customers into magical agreements — I will keep the item until it is paid off.”

No, he couldn’t pay for it upfront. He simply did not have four hundred (four hundred and fifty if he wanted it engraved) to part with. But he couldn’t wait for a year to get it. He was going to ask Hermione next Saturday. He’d already told her he had plans.

He looked back at the other rings. They were all hideous now. Uglier than they had been when he’d first laid eyes on them. Nothing compared to the one he’d chosen. It was the perfect one. He’d simply be disappointed with giving her any other one.

“Mr Weasley?” the witch asked.

Ron looked up at her. He so wanted to marry Hermione, he wanted to ask her. He wanted to call her his fiance. But the ring was important to him. He wanted her to like it.

He sighed.

“I’ll do the eight Galleons a week.”

The witch smiled. “Wonderful. I’ll require a ten Galleon deposit initially, and then eight from next week. You may send the money via owl post or directly from Gringotts.”

Ron nodded, all his excitement diminished. He’d have to cancel his plans for next week. He’d have to delay it for a whole year. He’d thought he’d be married to Hermione in a year, not just getting engaged to her.

As the witch hurried to the back of the shop with the ring in her hand, Ron couldn’t help but think bitterly about how Harry wouldn’t have had to worry about this. He would have just handed over four hundred Galleons like it was nothing.

Why couldn’t that be Ron? He was better off than he ever had been growing up, now with a great job, but not four hundred Galleons better off.

While he waited, he stared at the other rings again. He couldn’t bring himself to change his mind. They just weren’t right. This one was — even if it was costing him more than just money to get it.

…

When Hermione returned later that afternoon, Ron was sitting on the small bench Hermione had placed by the window, looking down at Diagon Alley below. He felt completely miserable. He had the ring, but he didn’t have it. And it was all because he couldn’t afford to pay four hundred Galleons straight up.

Why were the rings so expensive anyway? At least the good ones?

“Did you get all your work done?” Hermione asked, coming over to kiss him. She paused, seeming to notice his expression. “Everything alright?”

Ron looked at her, unable to even pretend to be happy. They were supposed to be less than a week away from becoming engaged. She probably knew that was where he went today and was expecting it. Instead, they’d have to wait another whole year. Because Ron was an idiot. And he couldn’t afford to get her a ring that she would like. Maybe he should have just gone with the cheaper one. It would have looked awful, and Hermione probably would have hated it, but at least they could get married.

“Ron?” Hermione said after Ron didn’t respond. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he said, and he sighed. “It’s just… I love you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do,” Hermione said, kneeling in front of him. “Ron, what’s happened?” She sounded worried.

“Nothing,” Ron said again, and he looked away from her. “I just… things didn’t really go according to plan today. We can’t do dinner next Saturday anymore.”

Hermione watched him for a moment. Even though Ron couldn’t see her, he could tell she was trying to figure out what exactly was going on.

“That’s alright,” she said after a while. “We can change it to the weekend after. I don’t mind.” She rested her hand on his back. Her touch was gentle, soft… loving. It warmed him, and when he looked back at her, he couldn’t help but smile just a little bit.

He’d marry her one day, at least. And in the meantime, did it really make much difference? A ring wasn’t going to change anything except perhaps stressing them out with trying to plan a wedding. It wasn’t going to change the fact that he loved her more than life itself, and that he would continue to love her, ring or no ring, married or not married. And she didn’t know for sure what he had done today, so when he didn’t ask her to marry him, she’d just assume she was wrong.

No harm done, except he felt like a complete buffoon over the whole thing.

“I love you,” he said. “And one day soon… we can have that dinner, alright?”

Hermione smiled back and nodded. “Whenever you’re ready,” she replied softly.

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we-always-hit-our-ass · 4 years

Note

I don't mean to bother you, but could you do hate to love headcanons for Bill Guarnere please?

oh you’re not bothering me at all! this is a NICE request- im into this idea and i loved writing hcs about this! thank you for requesting this lovely idea, it’s amazing!

Taglist: @floydtab, @deldontplay, @thatsonefishyboi, @noneofurbusinez, @meteora-fc, @hufflepuffpancakes, @hihosilvers, @rayleighshughes

Hate to Love HCs with Bill Guarnere

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you were generally well-liked and respected in camp toccoa and always hung out with george luz and perconte

these two were your best friends-

so you thought you would be fine with bill guarnere-

you didn’t really dislike bill guarnere at first because you two never really talked and you always conveniently left when he came in

you two avoided each other, and you were fine with anything as long as he doesnt bother you

but oh boy- shit started to change as the days went on

oh so you thought that you and bill could get along at first? i’m sorry to say that you were wrong-

somehow, bill is just now actively pursuing you just so he can insult you or poke fun at anything you do-

of course you tolerated at first cause like, you thought it was just a one time thing and iTS BILL GUARNERE-

his insults and snarky personality is one of the biggest things that he’s know for-

sooo you let it slide and never paid much mind to it

then bill turns around and decides to prove you wrong

but fortunately he never went that far, he’d only say his run-of-the-mill insults-

it wasn’t that that annoyed you though

it was how much he did it that annoyed you-

everywhere you went or whoever you hang out with, bill would never fail to poke fun at you

whether it was his vulgar insults, his pushiness, his bold personality, or his shit-eating grin??- you didn't know

you knew that was just his brand, but holy shit- you couldn’t take anymore of it

bill would constantly pester you until you snap and just straight-up leave

but even when you would leave to not interact with him this man will still be there-

and i dont think thats a coincidence

but bill would only purposely annoy you because this poor boy doesn’t know how to express his affection but you sure as hell didnt know that-

so when he sees you get mad after his teasing, he’s just a little bit confused-

but like even though you thought it was funny at first, he just kept doing it

this pissed you off and you always try your best to keep calm and ignore him

like you aint giving him a reaction, youre too stubborn-

but then he’d always flash a cocky smirk once he sees you leaving after he annoyed you just a little too much that day

and when he does that you cant help but like a teensy bit annoyed,

cause like who wouldn’t??

you swore that you could punch him and i swear you almost did

thank god the easy boys were kind enough to literally keep you from knocking out guarnere

seriously, this man does not know when to stop and you just couldn’t stand him

like god forbid you two being next to each other for 1 second

but then shit turned around once more- but for the better this time

while easy two was out in the field, bill literally pushed you out of the way and shielded you from a nearby grenade you didn’t see

you were very thankful but first of all you were SURPRISED that this man actually saved your life

the man that you hated- saving you?-

lEMME tell you- as cheesy as it is, words really couldn’t describe how you felt

confusion? relief? shock?

fuck it man, it was all three of them-

as you’re just staring in shock at him, he’ll just act all nonchalant about it

you just kind of watch him walk away with your mouth wide open and your eyes wide fucking open-

your thoughts on him immediately start to change after that day

and you no longer found yourself disliking him

like you didn’t know exactly when your thoughts on him started to transform but it was somewhere after the incident-

of course, he also clearly changed his attitude after that day too-

like then suddenly he’d stop his teasing?

like, yeah it still happens from time to time now, but like it wasn't as overbearing as before

but then bill actually starts to hang out with you more without actually outwardly teasing you anymore

and you are just completely

like he’d sit then next to you and after a few moments of silence he starts to talk to you about random stuff

it was awkward and first but then you guy would actually start to talk and you think it’s a miracle

it was slow progress at the beginning but small talk quickly turned into long conversations that were full of laughter

this man who seemed unapproachable and harsh who was actually nothing but a big softie

you slowly warmed up to him and you even found yourself welcoming bill guarnere’s quirks and unique personality

as you opened up to him, he also opened up to you and soon most of your free time was spent talking to him

your relationship grew stronger as the war raged on and you couldn’t help but feel a certain way towards him

like it started with small things, but those small things led to STRONG ASS FEELINGS- i mean, can you imagine?

you started to notice things you haven’t ever noticed before, like how cute his smile was, how nice his voice sounds, or how caring he can actually be-

aND BILL NOTICED THINGS TOO-

i mean, he already noticed them but bill just started to appreciate and love them even more than before-

like the way your eyes light up when you get excited, when you laugh at his stupid jokes, and when you’re just existing-

bill refuses to admit that he’s getting sappy for you, but he knows that he does-

tension soon builds up between you two guys and its a wonder how easy company hasn’t caught on-

i mean, the longing and adoring looks you cast each other are precious and you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world

bill wouldn’t also trade anything in the world for those smiles and happy expressions of yours

bill also seemed to be hiding his feelings behind his personality pretty well, but he’s actually struggling-

after a few days of thinking, guarnere just decides that he couldn’t wait anymore and he also decides to shoot his shot

and he’s so GLAD that he did-

things couldn’t have turned out better for the both of you

if you already haven’t ascended when he took your hands into his- then you definitely ascended when he confessed

for someone who had a very bold and brash personality, bill was surprisingly soft spoken and tender during his confession

the confession was short- BUT SWEET!

you almost died when you heard bill apologize and explain why he treated you so badly when he first met you

you were just in awe at this man. this beautiful, snarky, bastard made your life 10000x better and a world without him was not a good world at all-

immediately you would say how you felt, your hands still in his and you decide to intertwine your fingers with his

bill instantly kissed you as you finished and the warm sensation that you shot straight into heaven and it could only be described as euphoric

even that is still an understatement

when you stopped, bill raises his hands to cup your face and the feeling you got was aSTOUNDING

he just looked at you with such soft eyes that were full of love and you could help but melt

you were still breathless, but you begged for more of his touch

more kisses were shared privately among the two of you, and you wouldn’t want to have it any other way

but believe when i say that easy company had their mouths dROPPED to oblivion when they found out that the two of you were dating-

they had to admit it, you two did make a surprisingly good match and they were living for every single second of it

while you two got off on the wrong foot, you couldn’t be any happier to be with him

you and bill would also sometimes find it impossible that you two even hated each other in the first place

but it was all worth it, because you two ended up in each other’s arms in the end anyway

and for you and bill, that was all that mattered

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

im sorry if i took too long to answer your request but i finally posted it! i really liked writing this and this was just such a nice request!

hopefully you enjoyed these hcs and i also hope that it’s good enough! 💞💞😊

btw im sorry for any mistakes of any kind!

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers headcanon #band of brothers fanfiction #bill guarnere #william guarnere #bill guarnere x reader #bill guarnere headcanon #william guarnere x reader #william guarnere headcanon #hbo war #hbo war headcanon #hbo war fanfiction

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revan-posting · 4 years

Text

Dying stars

Summary: “It was pointless to think about the past, they both were suffering and now the rush of emotions washed them over, captured in a searing kiss. Death or fear had no place in the room, not even the time have a meaning, an abyss collapses and consumes their solitude. What about the war? What about the conflict? For them, for now there's no factions nor reasons to fight, the moment has vanquished the war. There's nothing else around.”

Pairing: Rex and Ahsoka, Rexoka, Rex x Reader-Ahsoka (let’s say whatever be your age is Ahsoka’s).

Warning: During Order 66, angst, tenderness/fluff, some lemmon or smut (I am not sure, honestly) tragedy, death, and my tired broken heart.

Word count: 6.2k wow

a/n: Well, this was requested by @bitch8901 <3 I truly hope you like it and I apologize this took too long to be shared.

This Rexoka prompt was inspired by Sarah Connor’s romance in Terminator because of this post. It hasn’t been easy, it’s my very first fic written in English, so I apologize if there are grammar errors or spelling mistakes. Yeah, the title isn’t great as well, I’m not good naming things lol but all this was made with love. And others who might read it, hope you like it as well <3 criticism will be well received.

The Siege of Mandalore has finished. All that chaos has stopped, flames still burning and is raining ashes, blood and corpses everywhere, just for Maul to get the attention of Master Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi. It seems such an obsession. What a waste! It was necessary all this? He wanted something else after killing Skywalker?

Ahsoka and the rest inside the Venator already, she couldn't stop to think if she did right to not mention to Master Yoda all those crazy things Maul said. Within her, something started to ache, her chest feels like it's burning gradually. Maybe it was the recent battle, the fear and darkness sensed because of Maul caged on that mandalorian device. That shouldn't happen.

Still, those words he said about the Republic, justice and order, she couldn't forget them:

"The Republic already has fallen, and you just can't see it! There is no justice, no law, no order, except for the one that will replace it!"

Those damn words, his scared voice screaming, begging to be left to die, echoing on all her way to the bridge.

Rex was already there, looking at her, smiling until see her expression through his helmet, sad and worried. Every one salute her with respect and joy. Noticing this, Ahsoka tries to left behind her thoughts and salutes them back a bit happier for the welcome. She really missed them but also realize there are many less on board, incluiding those who weren't in the beginning of the reunion, like Fives. Where are his jokes, imprudence and laughs?

Ahsoka approaches to Rex with no words but a smirk for him; he take his helmet off to see her better. Looks so tired and of course there's something annoying her. Rex knows her so well to realize she's not entirely ok.

"Hey, Rex" the former jedi feels the need to hug him after all this chaos and losses, but she resists the temptation. Rex's chest started to pound so hard once his name was released from the lips of the togruta close to him.

He tries so hard to not rise his hand to her cheek, feel her skin, hug her and comfort her. So much to say, still, so much to hide.

Regs must be obeyed, they both have a code to be followed, emotions to bury alive, even if they don't know what they feel for each other.

It was irrelevant, Ahsoka wasn't a Jedi anymore but Rex is still being a soldier, and a good soldier follow orders, despite what he considers is wrong or right.

"It's been a while" Rex responds with such a low voice, a delightful tone for her ears.

"I know, my friend. So much has happened, so much...", she hesitates to keep talking. Her eyes try to look at any other point instead of those golden eyes. Ends to look at her feet while one hand grip her elbow.

"Hey, are you alright?" Rex rub her forearm with his to get her glance again. "Let's hang out of the bridge, do you agree?"

"Sure. It would be good for both", nods while lift up a shoulder.

The couple of friends leave the command center and the ship jumps to hyperspace; far enough of the rest of the clones, Ahsoka snag her arm with Rex's and keep walking through the hallways.

His body shudders as she gets closer to his side, both upper arms together. Gladly, the trooper armor hides his shivering body but the recent sweat on his forehead couldn't be hidden, and would be weird put his helmet on again.

Ahsoka sighs, distracted, distant. It took the attention of Rex, forgot his shyness and fear, and finally dares to speak.

"'Soka, what's wrong? You look... troubled. What is it? It's about Maul?" his face changed after name that murderer. Thinking about all the mess he provoked, all the pain caused to his men: Jesse felt so guilty and sick 'till the point he would prefered to die instead. Sure Rex was tortured with the Force once, and being choked wasn't an experience he would like to remind. Neverless, Jesse took the worse part.

"I'm sorry, Rex." she stopped sharp without releasing his arm. Drove a hand to her temple, like feeling a headache. Rex's eyes were looking for hers with no luck. "I should tell them about what he said. About that vision of him. And I must control my emotions, block this fear inside of me, but for now seems impossible to do so." Finally, the togruta takes her arm away from his. Cross both arms pressing her tummy and the self-distrust starts to invade her.

Like ignoring her friend, keeps walking. Feels suffocated, afraid, lonely and desperate; she needs to cry out to the sky for some reason. Seems that all the lessons learnt are gone, all those years in the Jedi Temple vanished. Felt so empty and confused, her eyes started to water and flick because of that. She wanted to run and hide, above all, hide her sorrow from Rex. She didn't want him to see her crying or being weak or-

"'Soka...". The togruta hears and feel a hand on her shoulder stopping her from behind. She turns around and Rex looks at her for a moment, drops his helmet and hesitating tug her from her shoulder to his body to finally hug her.

Rex tight his hold, sinking his temple on one lekku, caressing it carefully. Whilst Ahsoka stayed shocked for seconds until feel a warm in her chest wich was heavily pounding and her hands didn't know what to do, if surround him or keep them away. Clenchs her fists for a while trying to avoid the urge to hold him, such flames burning her chest to the point she cannot resist it anylonger and disposes to place both hands on his back.

The soldier was afraid to be not reciprocated until he feels her arms leaned on his body. Kept his eyes closed afraid to open them and see it was just a dream, but no, he actually was holding her as close as possible that could even feel her heartbeat through his armor. 'No more nightmares, no more pain' he was thinking. Something alike Fives said before he died on his arms. This moment feels like that: compassion and relief.

Ahsoka feels the same, exactly what she needed, relief from all pain and the compassion of a friend. It was no pity nor shame, it wasn't a negative comfort, it was a selfless act from a good heart of a great man.

The embrace dies slowly full of calm like an expected departure. She was ready to release him from her arms, so he was. She sighed deeply, feeling her cheeks turning into red, smirks because of it. Rex takes a hand to his head and trails it to the back of the neck with the same red colored cheeks on his face, made a beautiful combination of colours with that tan skin he posses.

At the same time, Ahsoka and Rex rose their faces to look at each other and smile. Ahsoka giggles to see him blushing, that laughter melted the Captain's heart. Within him borns the want to feel her face, caress her cheeks, touch her lips; he cannot stop to admire her. Ahsoka wonders what's going on his mind right now? Longing to place her hands on his chest whether he's using an armor or not, or maybe take his hands.

She looks at the dropped helmet and bends to take it to its owner. Before Rex could take it back, she draws the marks and patterns the helmet has with her thinny fingers; after that, she looked at him again to indicate he can take the helmet.

Suddenly, a tear falls from one of Ahsoka's eyes, she feels it and frowns due the sensation. She was about to dry that it but Rex was faster, so with the thumb of his free gloved hand took that tear away and his heart skipped a beat. By the stars! Even wearing gloves, Rex could feel how warm and soft her skin was. A burning desire appeared from nowhere to feel more and more of that sunset skin. He clenched his jaw to suppress those thoughts, shocked his head in denial and stepped back.

"I apologize, Commander. Such an offense I have committed, it won't happen again, ma'am", said nervously with no idea where to look at now.

Ahsoka confused and a bit worried, parted her lips thinking of something to say to make him stay. "Rex! Please wait!". She could reach him taking his forearm and then his hand with both of her hands. She tugged of them to force him to return where they were, even going further back.

Rex obeys her demands intentionally like she was stronger than him to keep him under her power and submission.

"Please, let's talk, okey?" Ahsoka asks as it could be the last time they could talk.

"Lead the way, Commander" Rex answers back with that deep and sensually calm voice that gives her goosebumps.

She keeps holding his hand afraid of lose it during their way to somewhere more... private.

Rex indicated a way to her quarters, he thought Ahsoka would need a place to relax after all the mess it was to come. It was well settled and equiped with the necessarly, incluiding more pillows that usual. A refresher and new clothes, a jedi robe placed on a table close to the refresher, takes the fabric for a moment, the nostalgia hits her for a second, until heard Rex's sweet voice.

"I thought you would like to take a nap or something. I know is not as big as you use to-" the nerve betrays him, his voice started to cut off. For the very first time they're comepletly alone in a room, Ahsoka looks so tranquil and quiet. Rex felt like an idiot. Why he's so nervous? Being at the bar and sober wasn't that hard, surrounded by his brothers and girls they invited wasn't a big deal, nor even drunk. Now he's alone with the woman he cares to the point would rather die before losing her. Such an attachment, such bond they have created, should be forbbiden. It is forbbiden!

"Rex, it is okey, I didn't think I could need it, actually. I just, please, let's talk" she sighs again and takes sit in the bed. Rex didn't know what to do or where to go. There weren't chairs or anything else, Ahsoka invited him to sit next to her on that bed. That made him blush again, she giggles. Rex leaves his helmet on the table with the jedi robe and doubting to sit yet. Ahsoka takes his wrist and tugged on it to make him fall aside her. She laughs again, such a beautiful smile on her face, those blue cristals shining like the first time he saw them. 'Yeah, it's been a while' he thought, 3 years being partners, saving each others life, having each others back, 3 years of friendship. 3 years and couldn't do enough for her when she was accused of sedition. Yes, he also said he knew her perfectly to know she wouldn't murder another clone, anyways he hunted her along side her Master and others. She must have felt betrayed. And then, thought in Fives. What if... what if he was right about all he said of the Chancellor and those inhibator chips?

His laughter stopped and the torment showed off on his face. His wrist was safe and sound on Ahsoka's hands yet, looking at him with tender and a smirk. Until see the new expression he had now. In shame, Rex looks away and removes his arm from Ahsoka's grip. Stands up and just walks around, took both hands to his temple. He gets to the door, Ahsoka fears he leaves the room but Rex turns around to look at her again. Lained on the door with crossed arms and downcast eyes, he sighs, thinking well his next words, but it seems his mind doesn't want to speak but his heart aches ready to voice itself.

"Where you've been all this time, 'Soka?" Rex downhearted alleges to her, he denies to watch her face but Ahsoka stares to him worried due his change of tone. "Rex?" she wonders. "Tup died, Fives died, we found Echo almost brainwashed and tortured, where were you?", he sounds angry but weak. Never meant to blame her but, guess he needed her there with him, maybe, just maybe, Ahsoka could help Fives to survive, who knows? Maybe all he needed was her support, her presence to comfort him like she used to do in the darkest days, in the harderst missions.

"You know what he said? Fives. He said..." Rex hardly swallows and continues, "Fives said the Republic implanted inside us an inhibator chip to control us. A damn chip ready to use it against the Jedi", there were anger and pain on his glance, clenched his jaw like it could help him to control the incoming tears. "We tried to stop him, he was scared, desperate, we had no choice and... and Fox... Fox..." his voice broke down making it harder to keep talking. Ahsoka rose up as fast as she could and ran straight to him.

Took him by the shoulders seeking for his eyes. Rex tried to evade her, ignore her glance but failed. She placed both hands on his face, Rex with eyes wide open plunges on her soft touch.

"Rex, there was no day I didn't suffer to be far from you. Believe me, I would give anything to go back in time to mend all that happened. My days on the lower levels of Coruscant might be over, I don't know, but I learnt so much being there. The Jedi are not the heroes I thought they were." she trailed her hands on his shoulders again.

"Wait, you've been in Coruscant all this time?" Rex asked while taking her wrists down. "Yeah, it's been a mess, but I saw what people think about us, and I kind of agree with the-" Ahsoka shrugged and Rex cut her off "No, wait... You've been there all the time and never saw you." Rex said hurt and dissapointed of himself for some reason.

"Maybe you should take me to that famous bar you all frequent someday" Ahsoka bantered to ease the the mood taking his hands carefully to not take him by surprise. Rex notice this, with both thumbs caresses the back of her hands. He smirks by the idea of taking Ahsoka to the bar with the boys. He focus on the ceiling of the room thinking about it between laughters, Ahsoka sighs admiring the man close to her. Such a delightful view to see her man laughing after all... 'My man?' she thought. Yes, my dearest friend, my beloved partner.

While Rex kept holding her hands, she took them to her lower back so he could hug her again. He got it and placed his hands on her middle, Ahsoka gazed at him one last time before embracing him again. Rex, again, felt like an kriffin' idiot for being so rude towards her. 'How could I blamed her about Fives? Damn it'. Rex's eyes wide shut because of that while tugged her closer, Ahsoka had no idea what's on Rex mind but could feel him troubled.

"Rex, what's going on?"

"I...I apologize for all I said, I don't know what I was thinking of"

Ahsoka stared at him and standing on tiptoe, kissing him close to his lips to interrump him. Rex swallows nervously and the blush started to burn his skin. "You don't have to apologize, there's nothing to be sorry about", Ahsoka caresses his top cheek softly, her fingers travel to his lips like her eyes.

She wonders what was that stir inside her chest, that burning flame warming her body, she wonders if Rex feels the same way, if there is the chance... She took both hands to the back of Rex's neck to pull him closer with no objection, their lips were almost together. Both hearts racing, there's nothing else around, nothing to think about. That until Rex stopped her sharp:

"Ahsoka, wait" Rex set her aside. The togruta almost lose her balance because of Rex moving her. "Wha... What's wrong?" she asks hurt. Rex walks around of the room trying to escape maybe.

"'Soka, this can't be."

"Why?" her eyes started to water again.

"'Soka..." Rex approaches to her, "Ahsoka, I..." heavy breathing being released from his mouth, his chest aches as hell, holds her by her upper arms firmlly.

"We can't!"

"Is there someone else?"

"No, Ahsoka, no!" his hands go cupped her face carefully, "Ahsoka... I'm a soldier, you're a Jedi. It is forbbiden, you know that!"

"No, Rex, I'm not a Jedi anymore! I-" she holds his hands without take them away.

"No, you're a Jedi, whether you like or not, you can't deny what you are." removed the tears on her cheeks. "Remember all those missions together, all the lives you saved, the lessons you have learnt and taught... Doesn't matter how I feel, I'm not gonna break the code, you're not gonna-"

"Do you feel something for me, Rex?", her eyes wide open, shining like two kybers newly found, the pounding heart in need of answers. 'Can it be? Is it truly happening?' questions inside her mind, anxious to know if all those beautiful moments, whether they endured or not, whether they were private or not, meant the same to him like they meant for her. The laughter, the jokes, the protection, the journey. The moments they healed each other wounds, telling stories, training together, do all those days matter for him?

"I shouldn't told you that" his hands released her face. Went to the table where his helmet was, ready to go cursing his words. 'I'm sorry, but I can't stay with you' he said to himself. "Forgive me".

With the Force, she manipulated the control panel to ensure the door. "What the... Commander, what are you doing?" he quarrelled her through his helmet nervously.

"I'm sorry, Rex, but I need to know, please" tear drops kept falling from her eyes. "I care for you, Rex. Days after leaving the Order, I realized I might not see you again, possibly ever. The thought of that broke my heart. I knew what happened with Tup and Fives. The thought of that could be you instead broke my heart. Watching Maul murdering every one of you, torturing you, and that I could lose you in my turn... Rex", Ahsoka getting closer to the soldier looking for his hands. "Have you ever fall in love, Captain? Have you ever met someone you would give your life for? Because that's what I feel for you".

Rex couldn't believe what he listened, elated and surprised under the helmet. His heart pounding violently that thought it would escape from his chest, he wanted to stop arguing with the desire dwelling inside. Maybe this is the time.

"Rex?" Ahsoka takes his helmet off one more time.

"I still remember the day I met you on Christophsis, naive and eager to fight. The sparkle in your glance, the fire in battle was nothing compared to that light of yours. Every mission I feared it might be the last one, it wasn't until I arrived to the base I could breathe knowing you'd be okay. Every night I tried to sleep without dreaming, having the picture of you always in my mind didn't help. When you left, I used to draw your skin marks in any area I had in front of me, wondering where were you? If you were safe, if you were... I'd cross a thousands systems just to ask if you're happy now and if have you ever thought of me, at least once. I love you, Ahsoka, I always have, and because of that I'd give my life for you.

Rex held her hands caressing them again, Ahsoka couldn't feel happier. Hopped to embrace him and wraped her arms around Rex's neck. Whatever was aching his chest it stopped, felt like breaking chains to breathe again, the taste of freedom. That's what he thought until Ahsoka got off her grip and pulled his shoulders down to kiss him. Holding him again around his neck this time glenter in case he tried to escape again. Such a impassioned kiss made Rex tug her closer by her waist, unfortunately the armor was damn nuisance to enjoy the moment. Rex pushed away for a bit to breathe, Ahsoka gave him the chance to recover himself but in no time approached his face to hers to keep kissing him with the same passion.

"Ahsoka, wait" he breathed. His hands went to her jaw and neck, joined both foreheads like a Keldabe kiss, it helped to keep breathing, though.

"What is it, love?" she smirks heavily breathing.

"I... think, I think my chestplate is leftover, don't you think?" he sighed and smiled. Ahsoka gave a mischievous glance, Rex looked kinda scared.

"I think, more than the chestplate is leftover, Captain", trailed her fingers all the way of his arms. Rex swallowed and Ahsoka moved aways to give him the chance to remove not just the chestplate, she expects.

Rex was shivering, it made harder to put everything off of hi body, trying to breathe steady didn't work for now. 'Trained to work under pressure, yeah sure' he thought, not like this was a kind of work to do or something alike. His mind was a mess. Ahsoka came closer and surrounded his waist with her arms from behind. Leaned the side of her face in his back on blacks and sighed, rocking as slow as possible, "Do you need help?" she offers. "Don't worry, I'm almost done" he gazed her with his peripheral.

Chestplate, shoulder pads, upper and forearms bands, gloves and belt removed; Ahsoka couldn't wait for him to put off the legplates and greaves, almost gave him chance to remove his boots. She turned him around, the embrace were more pleasant than before, by far! His chest softer and warm, those strong arms covering her perfectly. Ahsoka rose her sight up looking for another kiss of her man, Rex didn't need words for it, cupped her face with his hands and kissed her, this time with no hurry or despair. His hands felt like heaven, Rex could feel this as well, for the very first time his bare hands caressed her skin and they were looking for something else.

The kiss were turning deep gradually taking the same rhythm it had firstly, the passion through their tongues, sucking each others lips, their breathing increasing with difficult, Rex barely could remain standing so he drag her mate with him to the closest wall and his hands went to her hips to pull her body against his. The excitement was noticeable, it seems Rex didn't realize of it but it pulled a moan out of Ahsoka among their kiss while she tried to get closer to him to keep feeling that sensation down there.

Their kiss grew deeply, even more every time like it wasn't enough for both. Rex trailed his hands down to her asscheeks, squeezed them and spread them a bit. Ahsoka lifting the head stopped sharp the kiss to murmur his name, that gave Rex the chance to kiss her chin and jaw, lick her neck, trailed his mouth to a part of her collarbone. He couldn't kiss her further or bow lower, so he lift her up enough to Ahsoka wrap his waist with her legs and held her against the wall making Ahsoka to moan again. Rex felt the goosebumps again after that, breathed on her throat and kissed her gently. Her body started to feel hotter, like burning inside, something in him felt as hard as the beskar she's wearing, something Ahsoka could feel between her thighs while Rex kept kissing and sucking her neck carefully, she hummed in response for every kiss, tugging the fabric of his blacks. He missed her lips and the taste of her tongue and so did she.

"Take me to the bed... Rex" she begged.

"Are you sure?" he asked frowned.

"That's all I ask" she breathed. "Unless...Do you... do you want to...?" she asked as well, maybe he wasn't ready.

"You needed to ask, cyar'ika?" he drew a wide smile.

"Okay, then put me down".

Rex wondered what she was thinking of, whatever it is, he was eager -and nervos- to see. Ahsoka moved him back until his legs hit the edge of the bed, she push him by his bare tan chest to make him lay down. She stared at him for a while and started to take of her clothes, the blush on her face was burning her cheeks, shivering and giggling. Rex couldn't help but smile admiring her from the bed.

Ahsoka disappears for a moment to place the beskar pieces on the table, Rex takes advantage of her absence to remove the legplates and greaves that couldn't take off earlier, put kept the tight black pants on, for now...

Ahsoka shows off before his beautiful golden eyes with nothing but her headdress, crossing her knees and one arm barely covering her breast, blinking flirty. With his jaw dropped, Rex stared at the woman in front of him: his eyes were shining like dying stars, breathing between laughters, posing both elbows on his knees. He wished he could freeze the time just to preserve the current picture: the women he loves looking impressively ravishing and gorgeous. Nothing else mattered for him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Ahsoka bantered.

She crouched to the bed, Rex's legs were between Ahsoka's and then she sat on his lap. What kind of man had in front of her now? The narrow and precise soldier she met on Christophsis, the man made of regs and stone, honest and experienced, gone for now, for her. Ahsoka thought about the times when Rex was distant, quiet and even angry. Nothing could turn his mood easily, nor his brothers or the General Skywalker. She tried to be there, in all those bad moments or mostly of them, being an incorrigible chatty, weird and brisk, talking about silly shit she learnt from Fives or joking about any thing related to Kamino and its tall people. Sometimes it worked, some other times, it was useless, causing the beaming 'joy' of the togruta vanish 'til death thanks to his monotonous tone of voice.

It was pointless to think about it, they both were suffering and now the rush of emotions washed them over, captured in a searing kiss like there’s no tomorrow. Ahsoka took away that tight t-shirt of his and touch every inch of his bare torso softly like she'd been afraid to rip his skin with her fingers. Rex's hands cupped her breast while licking her collarbone, could sense the vibrations from her throat that her moans were causing. His tongue were going lower and lower to kiss the middle of her chest, lick and suck each bosom, the sweet sound of hers just made his excitement increase and Ahsoka knew it. She stopped again, lay down his body for a better posture and travels her hips on his, Ahsoka started to grind down against him, Rex moaned with such a deep voice that made Ahsoka crumbled inside. The sensation was so electric, so addictive, Rex couldn't help but rock his hips up against hers, her entrance getting more wet due the rub they were doing.

"Rex!" she gasp, the massage tingles her inside her lower abdomen, meanwhile Rex caresses her breast and squeezes them. Travels his hands to her waist moving her a bit harder against his hips. His fingers tightens her bottom manipulating it because of the touch of her entrance with his erect member. It seems that Ahsoka was getting close to the peak of pleasure, her legs were starting to lock up, shivering, Rex notices this without knowing what to do but enjoy the view clutching at the sheets, relishing her taste, the taste of her tongue, her body. "Rex" she cries out again, the man holding her small waiting for orders of her commander.

"Rex, I... I want you, I want you inside" she begged out of breathe.Rex heed, rose up to embrace her and switch positions, carefuly placed her body in the bed. One arm held her shoulders tugging her closer to his chest, his free hand posed in her tummy feeling her heavy breathing. Such a want in her eyes, a burning desire glowing on her countenance, Rex trailed his fingertips to her bottom lip, the top of her cheek, her jaw. Placed his hand on the curve of her neck and kissed her again.

Seduced by the blaze, their bodies intertwining, being like a whole, rolling on the bed. There's a point that Ahsoka wraps his waist with her legs to immobilize him, Rex buries his arms under the pillow letting his body go down taking over Ahsoka's skin. Rex rubbed his hips against hers, both gasped loudy in the moment he gets inside her. Ahsoka opened her eyes as wide as she could due the spiral of rushing pleasure she was experiencing, Rex smirked looking at her expression and kept planting kisses over her temple and going down her jaw. Ahsoka sank her fingers over the heaving back of Rex as he was thrusting against her hips a slow rhythm, overwhelmed by the passionate pleasure burning inside of him; Ahsoka licked his neck while Rex squeezed her breast, releasing heavy groans by his part. The vibrations from his throat were exciting, erotic. Such stimulation provoked an increased rhythm on his movements, taking her hands above her head, Ahsoka closed her eyes letting being drift by the satisfaction and thrill.

"'Soka" he mumbled, she could barely hear him. His thrust were going faster and forceful every time, she was about to explode out full of passion and-

"Rex... Oh, Rex! I am... I-" whimpering weak until the burning pleasure dwelling inside of her core reached out to the highest point. A loud moan escape off of her lungs, but Rex wasn't done yet. Ahsoka was trembling and moaning, Rex still enjoyed her captivating body. Lied his head on the crook of her neck with his fanned breathing over her chest, his hips meeting hers insistent, faster thrusts until he finally came... Rex was labored breathing, his limbs were shivering, despite his current fatigue, his hips gave another couple of thrusts releasing a low groan after each one before pull out his erect member of her body.

"'Soka... I-" he breathed. She stared at him with tenderness and a quiet passion.

"Rex..." Ahsoka announced softly, looking for his eyes. "I love you". Rex gift her a wide smile over her confession and caresses her hot flushed face.

"Mesh'la," Rex kisses her, "Cyare," kisses her again, "I love you, too" kisses her one more time, "and my life is yours".

Even being tired and weak, Ahsoka found the strength to get up enough to embrace him, forcing him to lay back. Both gave into another passionate kiss to culminate their love. At the end, death or fear had no place in the room, not even the time have a meaning, an abyss collapses and consumes their solitude. What about the current war? What about the conflict? For them, for now there's no factions nor reasons to fight, the moment has vanquished the war. There's nothing else around.

* * * * *

Exhausted as hell, they sleep cuddled to recover energies. As expected, Rex is a man of light sleep, because of this, wakes up hearing his device was receiving a message. Carefully he abandons the bed trying to not to wake Ahsoka. Before taking his holo device, Rex puts on his blacks again to answer the call.

Rex watches the hologram, he's receiving new orders from a dark robed figure: "Execute Order 66".

"Yes, Lord Sidious", Rex responded.

Ahsoka was awaken already.

"Rex? What is it?" Ahsoka feared the worst, not because of the message, but the nightmare she had about her old master Skywalker and forced her to wake up.

"Find him... Fives, find him!" Rex looked chaotic, desperate. His voice was different, threatening.

"Rex...?" Ahsoka tried to approach him.

"FIND HIM!"

Rex started to shoot. Ahsoka evaded the blaster shots but is not enough, with the Force stopped him against the door. Unlocked it and pushed him out. She was scared, confused, her heart was racing as hell. The nightmares returned, she closed her eyes to concentrate about those dreams she just had. No doub it was about Anakin, something went wrong; so much suffering, chaos, anger... And now Rex is against her, why?

"Why he wants me dead if... He said he loved me, why he...?" her chest was aching so much, but she needs to calm down, she must know what just happened! She went for her clothes and lightsabers, got ready and the first thing she had in mind was Maul. He said this would happen, he must know something more.

Exiting the room, Rex wasn't there, looked everywhere to ensure the hallways were empty. A door opened and there he was with a bunch of clones by his side aiming her, ready to kill her.

"No, all of you go to the prision area and kill the sith. I'll take care of this, personally", Rex commanded.

Ahsoka couldn't understand but wonder what's going on and how she's gonna stop this maddnes? She knew about Tup and Fives, she knew something went wrong with them and died. Rex said "find him", and that's what she's going to do.

"Rex, what are you doing?", Ahsoka begged for an answer.

"The Jedi commited treason against the Republic, all of your kind must be executed", Rex said with conviction and coldness. "No exceptions".

* * * *

It's been a couple of weeks after the massacre against the Jedi Order, it's been a couple weeks the Venator crashed onto the surface of that moon. Rex and Ahsoka buried the bodies of the fallen clones found among the debris. Rex equipped the Y-wing bomber he piloted to escape from the Star Destroyer alonside Ahsoka.

She was mourning the soldiers, Rex watched her from behind drop her lightsaber on the ground in front of the fallen. Maybe to make it seem she died with them, maybe 'cause she couldn't do enough for them as a Jedi. Maybe she dropped her saber because she wasn't a Jedi anymore. Who knows.

She turned around to Rex and started to walk, Rex was approaching to her as well.

"Ahsoka?", like a man that used to have an strategy all the time and now has no idea of what's next since everything went to shit, tried to find some answers from his partner.

"We must go" Ahsoka couldn't watch him to his eyes. Her voice sounds so empty and scattered.

"'Soka...", Rex held her by her shoulder, took her upper arm and pulled her over him. "C-Cyare..." his voice were almost broken.

Rex embraces his mate from behind leaned his head on her montral. Ahsoka was hurt and hopeless that she couldn't be afraid even. What is the point of the Dark if it cannot control what's teared into pieces. Forsaken and broken, what else she could be? What else she could do?

Felt her legs too weak to keep standing up and just slipped down to the ground. Rex tried to keep her up but was useless. He ducked in front of her to see what's going on. Her intense blue kyber crystals started to cry, quietly sobbing took her hands to her face to cover her shame. Rex couldn't see her crying, he would do anything to stop her tears from falling, but for now, he comprehend she needed to let it out, all the frustration, the sadness, the failure.

"Forgive me, Rex. I-I can't... I can't for now", she sobbed. Rex didn't say a thing. He had no words to share, however, even if he didn't know, his presence was everything for her. It was a gift that the man she loves had survived, still, as a Force user, could feel the chaos and death provoked by the clones. It is such a wound inside that seems can't be healed. But now, she has to learn to live with that wound and the pain it causes to her. She must find a new way live, a new path to follow, and Rex would be there with her. Nothing matters now.

Ahsoka stands up, Rex helped her carefully. Look at his sad golden eyes for a moment and Rex caressed her cheek. Embraced her once more and said "Thank you for saving my life once again, cyar'ika". "You would have done the same for me, dear", she retorded.

Rex smiled her weakened, dried a tear from her cheek with his gloven thumb, and both aboard the Y-wing ship ready to go wherever the Force take them from now on.

#rexoka #rex x ahsoka #order 66 #fic request #captain rex #clone trooper rex #ahsoka tano #lady tano #darth maul #formely maul #maul #the clone wars movie #rex x reader #rex x reader ahsoka #yeah thats weird #took me a while but Im proud

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camillemontespan · 4 years

Text

her one constant [part fourteen: the human shield] [drake the bodyguard AU]

Master List

Warnings: Mention of blood/violence

A/N: Hey guys. I’m sorry for taking ages to write this chapter. Some of you know that I’ve been going through a shit time right now and writing hasn’t exactly been top of my priorities. I just can’t bring myself to do it. I guess I just want to roll up into a blanket and do nothing.

I didn’t want to post this until I was 100% happy with it because you deserve a well thought out chapter, not just a shit post. I hope you enjoy this. I’ve got about 2/3 chapters left of this to write. Thank you to everyone who has commented and enjoyed. Your feedback means a lot.

I also see that I’ve lost some followers recently - all good, I’m not mad. But I have been posting a lot of BTS/Jimin content instead of Choices stuff, so that alienates a lot of my followers. Sorry if all the BTS content is annoying - I’m finding that they are helping me calm down. Something about Jimin’s smile makes me feel better. But as a result, my blog is now a hot mess.

@ibldw-main @jovialyouthmusic @katedrakeohd @moonlightgem7 @pug-bitch @princessleac1 @burnsoslow @notoriouscs @dcbbw @saivilo @rainbowsinthestorm @marshmallowsandfire @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @gardeningourmet @kingliam2019 @nomadics-stuff @kimmiedoo5 ****************************************

Lou had his hand wrapped tightly around Olivia’s arm as he dragged her through the chaos of the ballroom.

‘Let me go!’ she shouted. ‘I can handle them myself, I’m armed!’

‘I don’t give a shit,’ Lou said fiercely. ‘I’m getting you out of here.’

Olivia let out an exasperated shriek but Lou ignored her, pulling her through the crowds. He knew Olivia was fierce and could look after herself; but he wished she would let him protect her without objection. All Lou wanted was to keep her safe and give her no reason to use her favourite dagger.

His eyes scanned the room for any more threats.

He saw the Duchess of Valtoria on the floor. He couldn’t see Drake.

Lou changed direction and raced towards her, his hand still gripping Olivia’s arm. ‘Lou, the exit is that way!’ Olivia protested.

‘Give me a minute!’ Lou said.

The two of them reached Camille. Lou noted with horror that while she was on her knees, Drake lay in a crumpled heap beneath her. She was protecting Drake from the carnage around them, bent over him with her arms on either side of his body, cradling him close. She blocked Drake from view, keeping him safe, like a lioness protecting her cub.

Camille was a human shield.

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

‘Drake, stay with me!’ Camille begged, keeping her body over his. ‘Stay with me!’

Tears were blinding her vision as she pressed down on the bullet wound embedded in his shoulder, trying to stop him from losing even more blood. Blood was everywhere; on his shirt; on his neck; on the floor; on her hands; on her silk dress. Camille’s hands shook as she tried to work out what to do. She pushed her hair back, not caring that Drake’s blood was now streaked across her forehead.

Drake’s face was ashen. He was looking up at her with heavy, drooping eyes and breaths pulled from his throat, breaths that were ragged and strangled.

Camille let out a sob. Everything had been so good, everything was working out.. when Drake had jumped in front of the bullet, all that was good in the world shattered.

All she could hear was screaming, shooting and Drake’s strangled breaths. She could feel her throat constrict and her heart pound in her chest as she tried to make sense of what was happening.

Breathe. Breathe.

Another assassination attempt in the same ballroom. Another experience that Camille would wear like bruised and damaged armour. Another reason to feel fear. Another reason to feel vulnerable.

But as she looked down at Drake’s ashen face, she felt fire in her heart and she knew that she would have to stay strong for him. Camille held him close as she promised herself that she would never let him go.

‘Camille..’ Drake croaked.

‘It’s okay,’ Camille said, her voice shaking. ‘It’s gonna be okay. I’m keeping you safe-’

‘Camille!’

Camille looked up to see Lou and Olivia standing above her. Lou was staring down at her in shock while Olivia’s eyes, usually hard and narrow, softened as she took in the scene before her.

‘H-He got shot,’ Camille stammered. ‘He jumped in front of the bullet to protect me-’

‘Shh, it’s okay,’ Lou soothed her, crouching down. ‘I can help. I’ll get him off the ground.’

Lou reached out to get Drake off the floor. ‘Don’t hurt him!’ Camille screamed, her voice hysterical. ‘Be careful!’

‘Olivia, take the Duchess,’ Lou said firmly. ‘Camille, Drake is gonna be okay-’

‘But what if he loses a lot of blood?’ Camille sobbed. ‘Or he- he dies-’

She looked down at Drake as the reality of a life without him - literally- flooded her thoughts. Her hands clenched his bloodsoaked shirt, unwilling to let go. She couldn’t let him go.

‘Camille, let go..’ Lou murmured, his green eyes meeting hers. ‘I’ve got him.’

Camille felt soft hands take her by the arm, guiding her to her feet with some resistance from Camille herself. ‘No, no!’ she pleaded, reaching out to try and grasp Drake by the hands. She was pulled back gently by Olivia.

‘Why are you helping me?’ Camille whispered.

‘Because you look like you’ve lost the only thing that mattered,’ Olivia said. ‘Come on, let’s get out of this place.’

Camille let Olivia pull her through the ballroom, looking back over her shoulder to check that Drake was safe. He was; Lou was holding him up as Drake lolled against him. Nobles were running to all exits, screaming and crying. But all Camille could focus on was Drake.

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

Lou helped Drake into Olivia’s towncar. Camille clambered in beside him, refusing to leave Drake’s side. Olivia sat on the other side of Camille, instructing her driver to move as quickly as possible.

‘We’ll go to my place,’ Lou said. ‘Nobody will know to look there if they are trying to target nobles.’

Drake’s head lolled against Camille’s neck. Camille swallowed and pressed her hand against his cheek, willing him to be alright. His eyes fluttered as he struggled to look at her. ‘Camille..’ he croaked. ‘Are you okay?’

Her heart cracked into two as she realised that even now, Drake was worried for her safety. Of course he was. He always put her first.

‘Forget me,’ she whispered. ‘We have to focus on you.’

‘Where are we?’ he asked.

‘Olivia’s car,’ Camille told him. ‘Lou is taking us to his place.’

‘Fucking Olivia…’ Drake groaned.

‘Careful, bodyguard..’ Olivia said, her voice like ice. ‘Or I’ll inflict another wound on you.’

Camille’s head whipped around so she faced Olivia. Her eyes were filled with fire. Drake’s blood had dried on her forehead and her hair was knotted down her shoulders. She looked a far cry from the usual elegant and sleek Camille that had been paraded around court all these months. Olivia drew back, realising that this Camille Montespan, the American commoner who she viewed as being weak, was anything but.

‘Don’t you dare threaten him,’ Camille hissed. She turned back to Drake, stroking his cheek. Her fiery eyes softened, turning tender as she focused on the bodyguard. Olivia’s eyes met Lou’s in the car mirror. His eyes reflected the same look as Camille’s.

Olivia quickly looked away.

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

The group arrived at Lou’s apartment. Camille helped Lou guide Drake up the three flights of stairs to his front door while Olivia checked the news on her phone for any updates.

Unrest had broken out through Cordonia. The assassins were unknown but it seemed that they were anti-monarchists. They had encouraged terror to roam the streets, with buildings being set on fire and republicans leaving their homes to join in with the fray.

At least Drake was out of the palace, Camille thought to herself. She helped Lou settle Drake down onto the couch in the living room while Olivia searched for a first aid box. She handed the box to Camille.

Lou watched as Camille broke the box open. She grabbed at a bottle of alcohol and then unbuttoned Drake’s shirt. Her fingers were gentle on Drake’s skin and the love and loss in her eyes was palpable.

‘We’ll leave you two be,’ Lou muttered. ‘If you need anything, give us a shout.’

Lou and Olivia left the room.

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

Camille examined the bullet wound, trying to calm down. She cleaned the wound with the alcohol, causing Drake to let out a cry.

'Take my hand and squeeze it,' Camille said softly. Drake winced as he reached out to take her hand. As Camille cleaned the wound some more, Drake gripped her hand with a steel-like grip.

'There we go..' Camille whispered. 'Getting you all cleaned up.. Now to get the bullet out which I've never had to do before but let's not panic about that right now..'

Her voice was trembling as she coached herself. Drake looked up at her with heavy eyes.

'It's okay,' he murmured. 'Breathe.'

A tear slid down Camille's cheek. She roughly wiped it away and looked through the first aid box for something to use to take the bullet out. She finally found tweezers.

'This may hurt,' she said. 'Do you trust me?'

Drake nodded, pressing his lips together in pain. 'I always trust you,' he croaked.

Camille used the tweezers to locate the bullet. She tried to keep her hand steady as she worked. Drake's blood stained her skin but she didn't care. She had to help him.

She gently pulled the bullet shard out of his skin. Drake let out a hiss but as his head fell back against the couch cushions, he felt relief.

Camille washed the wound with alcohol again before finding a bandage to cover it.

'You should be a nurse,' Drake said, breaking her concentration.

Camille smiled weakly. 'My mom was a nurse.'

Drake squeezed her hand. 'Clearly runs in the family.'

Camille's eyes met his now. 'You saved my life,' she whispered. 'But.. I can't feel grateful because I nearly lost you.'

Drake smiled weakly. 'It's my job to keep you safe. Don't worry about me.'

Camille shook her head quickly and let out a sigh. Tears began to slide down her cheeks again. 'If I had lost you, Drake.. I don't know what I would have done. When you jumped in front of me, time stood still and all I could see was your body falling to the floor. I thought you'd been killed. I can't imagine -'

She let out a choked sob and clapped her hand over her mouth as she tried to hold in her emotions. Drake leaned forward and cupped the back of her head with his hands.

'I'm here,' he murmured. 'I've got you, kid. I'm alive and you're safe, that's what's important. Don't waste a moment thinking about what could have been.'

'But -'

Drake closed his eyes and swallowed. 'When I saw the gunman aim his gun at you, I saw my life flash before my eyes. And that sounds ridiculous because surely, that feeling should only have been felt by you.'

Camille watched him as Drake opened his eyes again to meet hers. His expression was raw, searing and raw. Camille reached out to take his hands, trying to offer support.

‘Before we left for the ball, I told you we needed to talk about us tonight,’ Drake said. ‘So damn it, that’s what we’re gonna do.’

Camille’s eyes widened as she sat back on her heels and waited to hear what Drake had to say.

'My life is you, Camille,' Drake whispered. ‘Before I met you, I was just a regular bodyguard. I worked hard but I didn’t do anything else. My life was dull. It had no meaning in it; I would wake up, protect my charge, eat, sleep, repeat. But ever since I became your bodyguard, you’ve made my life more meaningful. I look forward to waking up so I can see you. I like joking with you, I like playing Rock Paper Scissors in the car. I like our Book and Whiskey club and listening to you read your favourite passages from your books. But more than that, I’ve found myself starting to feel more. Before I met you, I was a loner. I didn’t have friends and I certainly didn’t date. But now, I’m different. You’ve changed me as a person. You.. you make me happy.’

‘Drake..’ Camille whispered.

‘When the gun pointed at you,’ Drake continued, keeping his voice steady, ‘I saw my life with you flash before my eyes. I saw every moment we have ever had together go through my mind like a highlight reel. I did my duty by jumping in front of the bullet, I know. But to be honest, duty didn’t even come into my mind when I did it. I jumped in front of the bullet because I love you. I don’t want to live my life without you. I refuse to live life without you by my side. I won’t do it.’

Camille’s eyes had filled with tears. She let out a deep breath and cast her eyes down to the floor. ‘You handed in your notice,’ she said quietly. ‘So you won’t be by my side for long.’

Drake swallowed hard, preparing himself for what he was going to do next. He looked at Camille for a long moment as she looked down at her hands. Her forehead was smeared with blood. Her silk dress was ruined. But she had protected him in the crossfire. She had tried to keep him safe. To Drake, Camille was the bravest and strongest woman he had ever encountered.

He reached into his suit jacket and brought out the small velvet green box that had been hidden inside. He had wondered if Camille had felt it when her hands had been on his bullet wound but he realised that in the aftermath of the shooting, she would not have been in her right mind. Thank God. At least this would still be a surprise- a happy surprise, he hoped.

‘Camille.’

Camille sniffled and looked up. Drake gave her a smile and cleared his throat.

‘I want to be by your side forever, if you will have me,’ Drake murmured. ‘Not as your bodyguard. Not as your friend. But as your husband. But just know that I would still be all of those things for you. I’ll never stop protecting you.’ Before Camille could respond, Drake opened the box to reveal his grandmother’s topaz engagement ring.

Camille clapped her hand across her mouth. ‘Drake!’

‘Will you marry me?’ Drake asked, trying to keep his pounding heart steady.

Camille stared at the ring. Her hands were shaking and tears were forming in her eyes again as she considered his question.

‘If you marry me, you’ll be a Duke..’ she croaked.

‘I don’t care if I’m a Duke or a bodyguard or a man with nothing,’ Drake said. ‘All I want is you.’

Camille closed her eyes as a smile broke out on her face and happy tears ran down her cheeks. Drake reached out to wipe the tears away, waiting for her answer. Camille opened her eyes and her gaze slid down to the beautiful ring that Drake was holding out for her.

‘Yes, I’ll marry you,’ Camille whispered.

Drake’s eyes lit up and a wide smile spread on his face as he realised she was now his. He slid the ring onto Camille’s finger, relieved it fit her. He was about to reach out to kiss her but Camille beat him to it. She threw her arms around his neck and her lips crashed against his.

'I'm never letting you go again,' Camille whispered, pulling herself away so she could speak into his ear.

Drake chuckled. 'I should be saying that to you.'

Camille pressed her hand on his cheek. The topaz stone of her engagement ring sparkled in the low light, glinting against Drake's skin.

'Promise we'll never let each other go,' Camille said, her voice shaking. 'Promise me, Drake.'

Drake's lips brushed hers gently. 'I promise,' he murmured. His fingers caught in her hair as he kissed her deep, moving down to move the straps of her silk dress so he could lean down to kiss her shoulder.

Camille slowly pulled away and let her mouth roam down his neck, down his collar bone, until she reached the bandage over his bullet wound.

She kissed the area around the bandage gently, close to the place where Drake took a bullet for her.

Not because it was his duty but because he loved her.

#drake walker #trr fanfic #trr au #drake walker x mc

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