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hockeynoses · 2 years

Note

Steve having a pretty messy cold and Eddie catching his sneezes?

Listen… this got away from me. I’m going to horny jail for this. I still have to push myself to write and post things like this because it’s a bit out of my comfort zone, but I really like this community and I have a feeling it will be appreciated!

Length: 2k

Rating: Other than being 18+ due to being a kink fic, it’s not racy in any “below the belt” kinda way.

Tags/Warnings: Very mild D/s, mild bondage (more honor-bondage, really), mess, the sensual application of Vaseline to nostrils. 😅

A note about contagion: I don’t know whether to warn for this or not. It’s discussed in the beginning and is kind of the impetus for the rest of the fic, but I am very particular about contagion and sometimes when I write, I’m under the assumption that the caretaker (Eddie, in this case) is just automatically immune to things. Because that’s the world I want to live in. But you can think about it however you want!

When I started writing this, I was going to have it be kind of ambiguous if Eddie had the kink or not but uh… I doubt a vanilla would be down with doing all that’s going on in this silly little fic.

---

There are many ways that Steve distances himself from his preppy-boy, jock demeanor of the past, but this isn’t one of them. Sure, Steve’s parents had made sure his manners were immaculate in all the appropriate social situations, and yet, when he’s home alone, all bets are off. When it came to being sick, shades of the spoiled, only-child brat start to make their way to the surface.

This is the first time since getting together that Eddie has seen Steve sick. And he’s more than a little surprised to come home and find the supposedly well-mannered man wrapped up in a pile of blankets, openly sneezing into the air, not even bothering to cover.

Eddie, who admittedly may have had some similar unhygienic tendencies, had his manners drilled into him by Uncle Wayne from a very young age.

As if able to read his thoughts, Steve’s breath starts hitching from his corner of the couch.

“Ahh…eh’KSHH! Heh-T’CHHHah!” He finishes off with a thick-sounding sniffle.

“Steve! Cover your fucking mouth, man! You’re not the only one that lives here, you know,” Eddie says with a glare. “I’m sure your royal subjects at Hawkins High were happy to let you sneeze all over them, but some of us don’t want your nasty germs, King Harrington.”

“Sorry, Jesus,” says Steve lifting his blanket-covered shoulder to wipe his face. “And I did nodt ‘sneeze all over’ everyone.”

“I was there dude, I’ve seen how bad you were at covering.”

“Aww, you were watching bme?” Steve says, teasing. A warm flush covers Steve’s cheeks and the top of his nose, making him look even more adorable than usual. As much as Eddie would love to take credit for that, he knows it’s from the cold, and how bundled up he is in his blanket cocoon.

Eddie narrows his eyes at him and says, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’b… hah…ek’TSSHHHoo! Hih’RSSSHH!” Two more completely uncovered. Steve blinks his glassy eyes, dazed.

“You just don’t care, do you?” Eddie asks, irritated.

“I’mb too tired to care,” he says, nose scrunching up as he sniffs again. “It’s too mbuch work. And I can’t m’bove under all these blankets anyway.”

“‘Too much work’ he says,” Eddie mimics. “Well, if you’re not going to take care of it, I will,” he says as he grabs the box of tissues from the coffee table, pulling enough out that he now has a handful, and setting the box next to Steve on the couch. In a flash, he straddles Steve’s thighs, the combined tangle of the blankets and the pressure of Eddie’s body pinning Steve’s arms even further.

Gently but firmly, he fists his free hand in Steve’s hair, tugging just enough so Steve’s head is tilted back, his mouth hanging open.

“Eddie, wha-?” Steve gets out, before Eddie moves in with the tissues. He manages an initial swipe under his nose before Steve winces away in embarrassment. He doesn’t get far though, Eddie’s hand in his hair pulling him forward again as he finishes wiping from his pink nostrils down to his cupid’s bow.

“Com’b ond man-” Steve tries again. And now the flush across his face is Eddie’s doing, Eddie notes with no small amount of pride.

“Calm down,” Eddie says, surprisingly stern. His gaze is loaded as he looks down at the man below him. “Just let me take care of you.” He folds the tissues in half, cupping them around Steve’s nose.

“Now blow,” he says. Steve can’t believe he’s serious.

“No! Idt’s too gross,” Steve protests, glaring at Eddie above the tissues but not moving. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Just do it, you big baby.” When it’s apparent that Eddie isn’t going anywhere anytime soon, Steve gives in.

“Fin’d. You asked for this,” Steve says, taking a deep breath. Eddie holds the tissues tighter against his nostrils as Steve blows out, keeping his hand firm as Steve leans against one side, then the other. He can hear the shifting of the thick mucus in Steve’s sinuses as the cotton becomes more damp, soaking through the layers until Eddie can feel moisture against his fingers. Giving one final blow, Steve rubs his nose back and forth into Eddie’s hand. When he starts to back away, Eddie pinches the tissues around Steve’s nostrils, capturing anything that might’ve been still clinging to his face.

Steve sniffs, testing his airways. It seems to have helped, he thinks, at least on one side. Eddie tosses the full tissue away and grabs a few more, just in case.

“See? Doesn’t that feel better?” Eddie asks, smirking. The hand that had been clutching Steve’s hair is now softly scritching the base of his neck.

“I b’mean yeah, but…” Steve sniffs again, eyes crinkling closed as he wiggles his nose, trying to dispel a new itch. “Ah…I thigk I have t-to….!” he says breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut, head tilting back. Eddie’s ready for him, cups his big, kleenex-covered palm across Steve’s nose and mouth.

“Hah…ha-ATSCHHOO!” His head jerks forward with the strength of the sneeze, but Eddie’s hand never falters. Steve’s eyes are still closed, and Eddie watches him, rapt. “Heh…eh…hh’RRESSSHH! Ha-ESSHHH!” The harsh spray of them soaks the tissues, threatening to escape, but Eddie clamps down firmly. Steve stills for a second, and Eddie almost thinks he’s done, but then- “uh…huh-gkTSSHHuh!” The last one bursts out, sounding particularly messy.

Steve blinks for a minute, coming back to himself, then sits back a little. When he pulls back, there’s a small, clear string of spit – or snot – Eddie doesn’t know which, that clings to his face from the tissue, and Eddie immediately wipes it up, then tosses the bundle away.

“Oh m’by god,” Steve says, dazed.

“Now wasn’t that better than just spraying the entire room?” Eddie asks.

“Mbaybe.” Steve leans his head back against the couch. It gives Eddie a great view; he can’t help but track his eyes along the other man’s gorgeous neck, Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he speaks. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss against his favorite pair of freckles, right up under Steve’s jaw. “If I tell you yes, are you gonna gloat about it?” Steve asks, and Eddie can feel the low vibrations of his words against his lips.

“Hmm, that depends on how nice I wanna be…” he says, pulling back. Steve keeps his head where it is, and Eddie can pretty much see straight up his nose. His nostrils are so, so pink, and they’re starting to get chapped. He can’t help but lean forward and kiss the side of Steve’s nose, right against the bridge.

“Eddie, stop!” Steve says, squirming away. “Fuck, that ti-hih…tickles…” With his arms still wrapped up in the blanket and half underneath Eddie, he can’t reach up to relieve the itch himself. The best he can do is twitch his nose back and forth and shake his head a bit.

“You gonna go again?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer. He gathers a new bundle of tissues from the box, holding them at the ready.

“Uh….Uh-huh…” Steve manages, eyes fluttering shut, mouth hanging open, nostrils flaring. This time, Eddie places his free hand against the side of Steve’s neck, fingers soft against the tense muscles there. The hitches in Steve’s breath build, and finally hearing one last desperate inhale, he covers the other man’s nose with his kleenex-clad hand as Steve lets loose a powerful- “Ha-ISSSHHoo! Huh…ha-RRSSSHH! et’ISSHH! Eh…huh-gshHT’CHuh!”

Once again, the wetness soaks through to Eddie’s hand. He’s just starting to pull back, planning on grabbing a clean batch, when he hears a breathy, “W…wait…” and he freezes as Steve leans forward to nestle his nose back into the crook of Eddie’s hand.

“Ha-ESSSSHHoo! Oh b’my god. These don’t…hih-… they don’t ever fucging stob- hah-ATCCHHuh!” Eddie holds his hand as best he can against Steve’s angry nose. “Fucgk, I- iiihhh-TISSHH! eh-EESSCHHuh!” The last one scrapes against his throat, and he sits back, exhausted. Eddie cleans him up and tosses the soiled tissues.

“Oh baby, that really took a lot out of you,” he says, cradling Steve’s face in his hands. Steve sniffs and looks up at him through his lashes.

“I told you I was tired,” says Steve, giving Eddie his most pathetic look, the one he knew always worked.

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says, giving in and kissing him on the forehead. “I forgive you for being gross.” He pulls him in for a hug and feels Steve bury his warm face in the crook of his neck. Eddie’s nerves zing to life where Steve scrubs his nose back and forth briefly to kill the leftover itch from his fit. The minutes float by in a haze as they both relax into the embrace, Eddie rubbing Steve’s back every so often.

After a while, Eddie pulls back and says, “Hey, I know what might help.” He leaps off Steve’s lap, inspired.

“Wha-?” says Steve, groggy and half-asleep. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back!” Eddie says over his shoulder as he heads to the bathroom for supplies. Once there, he opens the medicine cabinet, eyes scanning for chapstick and vaseline.

In the midst of his rummaging, he hears an echoing, “ha-TISHHH! Ugh. Hih’RSSSHHoo!” followed by a few frustrated sniffles. As if on cue, his eyes land on what he was looking for. Having successfully pilfered the desired items from the cabinet, he heads back out to his boyfriend.

“Jesus, you can’t even go two minutes without having a fit. Do you need me to sit here all day?” he asks as he settles his weight across Steve’s lap again. This time when Eddie moves in with a tissue to clean him up, Steve lets him.

“You bmight have to,” says Steve, sniffling.

Eddie thinks that sounds like a fucking stellar idea. Trying to play it cool, he says, “Hmm, that could be fun. But first…” he holds up the chapstick and a small tub of vaseline. “I have to fix that pretty face of yours.”

“I’b find’e. You don’t have to,” Steve says, seeing where this is going.

“Well once again, Steve, it looks like you’re not taking care of things, so I’ll have to do it myself,” says Eddie, opening the vaseline. “I don’t want any more damage being done to that beautiful nose of yours.” Covering two tips of his fingers in the gel, his other hand cards through Steve’s hair to gently pull his head back.

A quiet “ah!” of surprise escapes from Steve’s throat, unbidden. “You’re crazy,” he says, eyes on Eddie’s face as the other man’s tongue darts out the side of his mouth in concentration.

“Yeah, we already knew that,” says Eddie, as the first stroke of his finger traces along Steve’s right nostril. It flares under his touch. “It’s so chapped, baby.” He continues smearing the moisturizer under Steve’s nose, running his fingers up the center to the tip. “Looks like it hurts.”

“Itd does, a little.” He sniffs and Eddie feels his nostril scrunch up under his finger as he finishes his application on the other side. “Itd’s sen’dsitive,” Steve says, flushing a little under all the attention.

“I bet,” Eddie says. “Tomorrow I’m buying you fancy tissues with lotion.”

“Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em,” Eddie says, smirking. Reaching down, he finds the chapstick and pops the cap off. “Pucker up, big boy.” Warm fingers grip Steve’s jaw, gently tilting his face up and holding him still. Steve’s so stuffed up that he can’t smell the cherry of the chapstick, just feels Eddie dotting it across his lips. He’s forced to breathe through his mouth, lips parted. Eddie smooths the chapstick in slow swipes across his lips.

Satisfied, he snaps the cap back on and sets it aside. His large hands return to cup Steve’s face, stroking his callused thumbs against the other man’s cheeks. Leaning in, he presses a soft, lingering kiss against Steve’s plush lips. Steve just breathes and watches as Eddie pulls back slowly. He’s staring at Eddie’s lips, now slightly shiny where some of the chapstick has transferred.

Feeling too loved and not knowing what to do with it, Steve says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’b sure I look ridiculous.” It comes out breathier than he intended.

“Something like that…” says Eddie, his warm eyes pinning him with a look that makes Steve’s insides go all gooey.

“Thangks,” is Steve’s low response, accompanied by a soft smile.

“You’re welcome,” Eddie says, unable to stop himself from leaning in for one last quick peck. “Okay now, don’t sneeze and ruin all my handywork.” Steve’s nose seems to interpret that as a personal challenge as a familiar itch springs to life deep in his sinuses.

#snz fic #snzfic #snzblr #Ste/ddie #this was my first and only prompt received so far #and luckily it was....very obviously right up my alley #asks #snz fics #snzfics

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

If I Fell For You (Part 3) - A Moment

Summary: Jensen is away from home for a few days but isn’t having the easiest time being away from the kids for the first time since the accident. When he returns home, he has a gala to attend on Saturday night but a kiss on the cheek and slip of the tongue will snowball into the reader and Jensen sharing a moment...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 6,100ish

Warnings: language, death of a spouse, death of a parent, anxiety, self-worth problems, referenced past harassment

A/N: I love this part so much for so many reasons. Please enjoy!

________

“Hi Jensen,” you asked Monday night when your phone rang. “How was your flight earlier?”

“Same old same old. I just got out of work,” he said with a yawn. “Gonna grab a bite out with a friend. Kids eat dinner okay?”

“We had honey sriracha glazed salmon with brussel sprouts and roasted red potatoes.”

“Really?”

“They had kraft mac and cheese and I had Taco Bell.”

“See this is why I like you,” he chuckled.

“I’ll try the salmon again tomorrow. I was gonna make it but they didn’t have any at the store,” you said, opening the fridge and taking out a pint of ice cream. “Hey can I have what’s left of this mint ice cream?”

“Sure. Pick some more up for me sometime before friday please,” he said. “Also, Taco Bell? You do realize we live in freaking Austin right. There are literally hundreds of places you can go that have better mexican food.”

“Yeah but fake cheese tastes good,” you said. He laughed and your stomach rumbled. “I so should have gotten more than two tacos.”

“You in the kitchen?” he asked. You hummed and you heard him let out an oof in the background.

“Yeah. You alright?”

“This bed in my hotel room is comfy,” he said. “But I was starting to say, go in the drawer at the end of the counter by the table. There’s only five hundred gajillion take out menus in there. Order a treat for yourself. It’s on me.”

“Jensen. I can get my own dinner.”

“True but you’re on call 24/7 until I get back.”

“Well in that case I bet you got a menu for a fancy steakhouse in here somewhere,” you teased as you picked up one for a tex mex looking restaurant. “Does this place really have quesadillas this big?”

“You must be looking at the menu on top. I almost ordered from there last week actually. The food’s great. They do delivery too. Just buzz the guy into the gate when they get there.”

“Any recommendations?” you asked, taking out the menu and flipping it over.

“Quesadillas are good. Loaded nachos are amazing. I’ve literally never had a bad thing from there,” he said. “To be honest I’d rather be getting that than where I’m going tonight.”

“Why’s that?” you asked, reading through your options, surprised to find such good prices.

“I have to wear a suit,” he said with a sigh. “After being poked and prodded all day I literally would rather just eat crap and watch food network.”

“How long have you known this friend of yours?” you asked.

“Twenty years, why?”

“Then you guys knew each other when you were young. It’s not too late out there. Call him, see if he’d rather get some crap food, a six pack and just catch up on his couch or in your room. I’m pretty sure he’s more looking forward to seeing an old friend again than the food,” you said.

“You make very good points. I should pay you more,” he said.

“You pay me plenty and barely let me spend a dime of my money on myself,” you said. “I don’t need more.”

“You got that fancy computer though.”

“You literally have the exact same mac in your office.”

“You moved in like three boxes and two computers,” he said.

“An ipad is not a computer,” you said.

“Debatable.”

“Well I like to draw sometimes and it’s easier on an ipad when you’re laying in bed,” you said.

“Are you any good?” he asked.

“No.”

“I bet they’re really good,” he said as you rolled your eyes. “I see you draw with the kids sometimes and those are good.”

“It’s a hobby is all,” you said, leaning back against the counter, your stomach grumbling again. “Anything else you want me to grab at the store? I’m going to hit it tomorrow while everyone’s at school.”

“Nah. Get the usual stuff,” he said. “The kiddos in bed?”

“Yeah, got the last one down about fifteen minutes ago,” you said. He hummed and you heard the sigh in it. “I got a video of them playing earlier I’ll send you.”

“Thanks. It’s my first night away from them in a long time. Normally I’m able to come back same day. I was kinda hoping they’d still be awake to say goodnight.”

“They’re safe and sound dad. We’ll call again after school tomorrow to talk like today,” you said.

“Yeah,” he breathed out. He was quiet and you pulled the phone away, taking a deep breath.

“You okay?”

“I haven’t been alone like this in a really long time.”

“I know. You check out your backpack yet?”

“No. Why?”

“You didn’t bring a jacket with you so I put that yellow hoodie that’s always on the hook in there in case you got cold.”

“That was Dee’s hoodie.”

“I was pretty sure it was,” you said. You heard him shuffle around briefly before he hummed, much happier that time. “I thought you might like to have a piece of...something-”

“I really don’t pay you enough,” he said quietly. “Thanks for putting this in there. I need something from home more than I realized.”

“Well put it on, call up your buddy and have some fun tonight, Ackles. Nanny’s orders.” He laughed and you felt that twinge in your stomach again, your eyes quickly closing.

“I will. Hey you mind if I call again tomorrow night? I don’t have any plans and sitting in a hotel room by myself isn’t very fun.” You smiled and felt heat in your cheeks, quickly thinking it away. He wanted company for a few minutes was all and you were friends. It was completely normal to talk with friends on the phone everyday.

“Of course. As long as you get a dinner in at some point that’s more than fine with me,” you said. “We can talk about The Bachelor!”

“Oh God no,” he groaned, chuckling after a few seconds. “I’ll settle for Grey’s Anatomy.”

“This Is Us?” you asked.

“Supernatural?”

“I haven’t watched that yet. I’m working up to it,” you said.

“Work faster woman. I only know legit everything about that one,” he chuckled. “But probably not a good idea to watch that one until I get back and you're not alone. First episode is kinda scary.”

“Oh well thanks for that,” you said, watching the clock tick by, knowing it had to be almost seven out there. “I’ll let you go. Have fun tonight Jensen.”

“I will Y/N. Promise.”

Friday Night

“Arrow,” you said after she’d flung her pasta bowl all over herself, covering her hair and face. She sniffled and you forced a smile. “Okay. How about a bath after dinner?”

Fifteen minutes later JJ and Zeppelin were in the movie room watching a cartoon while you had Arrow in the kids bathroom, scooping up some water over her head in the tub.

“Well hello ladies,” you heard behind you. You jumped and spun around, glaring for a moment before you recognized Jensen.

“Just me,” he said, backpack still on his shoulders.

“Daddy I got ziti all over my head,” she said.

“You did?” he asked, dropping his bag and taking off his jacket, kneeling down next to you. You got the last bit of sauce off and squirted some shampoo in her hair, Jensen watching you with a smile. “How was your day?”

She told him all about breakfast and daycare, playing with a few toy boats with him while you rinsed out the soap. You did a bit of conditioner before getting it out as well and putting the spray nozzle back.

“I got the rest if you wanna get the dryer ready?” he asked you, reaching for the soap. You swapped spots with him, Jensen washing her up while she kept talking about her day. By the time he was all done you had the dryer out and plugged in, Jensen picking her up and wrapping her up in a big bundle of towels before he set her on the counter. You went to work drying her hair, Jensen draining the tub and finding some pajamas for her.

“Do you want your hair up or down, sweetie?” you asked. She tried gathering it up and you grabbed her soft scrunchie perfectly fine for sleeping in from the counter. You put her hair up in a soft little bun, Jensen making an adorable sound when he returned.

“Aw, you look so cute, baby. I’ll be right there alright?” he said. She hopped off the counter and got dressed, rushing off downstairs when she was all done. “Survive the day?”

“Somehow we always do,” you said, gathering up the towels. “Kids are in the movie room.”

“Thanks. I’m gonna shower but we’re all good for the night,” he said. “Thanks for watching them this week.”

“You gotta go do your job,” you said. “You working on a movie or something? You never said.”

“Uh gonna be in a show called The Boys,” he said. “I’m gonna be one of the superheroes so I gotta go out and get my suit made all special for me every so often.”

“You’re gonna be a supe! That’s so fucking cool!” you said. He grinned and you blushed, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. That was so not appropriate.”

“I don’t see any little ears around,” he chuckled. “You like the show then?”

“Yeah. It’s great. Like no other show consistently makes me go what the fuck did I just see. That’s so cool you get to be a supe though. Are you a one off or like a main character?”

“I’ll be very present in the next season. Gonna deal with the seven, all that,” he said. “I’m gonna be Solider Boy.”

“I can see that. You have that all American boy thing about you.”

“It’s my adorable face,” he teased.

“Well remember to not stay up too late. You have the gala tomorrow night remember?”

“Yes mom,” he said as you walked out. “Get the kids some takeout for dinner tomorrow and yourself.”

“Sounds good boss,” you said. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Next Night

You froze from where you were mixing up some brownie batter with JJ at the kitchen counter as Jensen popped downstairs. He was in a gorgeous black suit, a maroon pocket square and no tie going on, his hair scruffier looking than normal.

He started to laugh and you realized you were staring, your cheeks feeling hot as you went back to stirring.

“Mmm, you guys save me a brownie or two for when I get home?” he asked, leaning over and dipping his finger in the bowl of cream cheese frosting.

“We’ll spare one for dad,” you said, Jensen going back for seconds. “Ah, ah. No.”

He dipped his finger in and got another fingerful, kissing the top of JJ’s head and the twins at the counter.

“Be good for Y/N guys!” he called as he rushed out.

You whistled and he jogged back, catching you holding up his phone from the counter.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it and pecking a kiss on your cheek. You looked up at him and he froze. “I am so sorry. I…”

“It’s okay. Go have fun and be all charitable,” you said. He shoved his phone in his pocket and ran out, JJ scratching her head.

“Dad’s kinda weird sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, he is. But so is everybody,” you said. “Let’s get this in the oven so you guys can pick out colors for your frosting, hm?”

“I really shouldn’t. But I really should,” you said to yourself, plopping your second brownie of the night in a bowl and sticking a scoop of ice cream on top. You carried it over to the couch and lay back, watching TV on the big screen as you heard the door open. Jensen came into view a minute later, taking his jacket off and groaning as he washed up at the sink. He went to the tray of brownies on the counter and picked one up with a big sigh. “Fun night?”

He jumped and whacked his head against the cabinet above, hissing before he spun around.

“You okay?” you asked. He nodded and left the brownie behind, pushing his sleeves up before taking a seat on the other end of the lounger.

“Y/N I’m really sorry about the kiss on the cheek. That was so inappropriate. You’ve kinda implied that there was some stuff that’s happened to you at other jobs you found over the line and I’m really truly sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I wasn’t...I forgot you’re my employee for a moment. I really am sorry.”

“Jensen if I had a problem with it or you or your behavior I would quit on the spot. I don’t let myself get pushed around anymore. You were happy and busy and you pecked a kiss on my cheek, not reach a hand down my pants. It’s really okay. You’re way too hard on yourself.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Positive. It’s barely ten which means you left as soon as you could. You’re supposed to be out having fun,” you said.

“I was kinda freaking out that you hated me,” he said.

“Dude you gotta relax,” you said. “Have a brownie and some ice cream.”

He got up and after a minute took a seat at the other end with a bowl of his own, smiling as he got a taste.

“This is fucking awesome,” he said.

“I know,” you said, Jensen smirking. “Do you feel better now silly boy? I promise that if you ever do anything I find inappropriate I will promptly kick you in the balls.”

“I can agree to that,” he said. He ate for a moment, watching the TV and laying back. “Do you ever like, want to go do things with your friends on a Saturday night? If you do that’s totally cool. These aren’t normal hours anyways.”

“Being a nanny eats up a lot of your social life,” you said. “Kinda got kicked out of my friend group after I broke up with my ex anyways.”

“Well they sound like they suck,” he said.

“Yes, they do,” you said. “I don’t mind so much. I meet plenty of new people through work. Only person you can depend on is yourself and I don’t tend to let myself down.”

“That’s a very lonely way to go through life,” he said.

“It’s not easy to make friends in your thirties,” you said. “Maybe for someone like you who travels and meets new people a lot and stuff but you have like, real friendships. You know?”

“Well we have a real friendship, don’t we? You’re friends with Jared and Rob and Ruthie and Rich,” he said. “I don’t trust just anybody with my kids. That’s real.”

“Yeah,” you said, taking a bite. “So when’s your friend free?”

“Hm?”

“Blind date guy. Maybe he could be a friend if things work out,” you said.

“Oh yeah. He uh, he actually got a gig up in Canada so you might need to wait like a month or so. But he’s excited to meet you,” said Jensen.

“Can I have his number?” you asked. “Or do you think that’d be weird?”

“No, not weird. I think he just kinda wants to do it old school if that’s okay. Meet you first and go from there.”

“This friend of yours better be like super hot,” you said.

“If it’s a problem-“

“I can respect him wanting to do things like that. But I’m gonna want a firm date soon,” you said.

“I’ll make sure to get you one,” he said. “I’ll get it down tomorrow, promise.”

“He better not mind me eating like this either. I ain’t a salad on the first date kinda girl. He’s gonna need to keep up with my eating while were at it,” you said. He snorted in his seat beside you and ran his hand over his face.

“I will keep that in mind. I have occasionally had dessert first truth be told,” he said.

“This is why I like you Ackles. You get my sweet tooth,” you laughed.

“It’s a good thing your dinners are healthy cause I swear I haven’t consumed this many baked goods in months,” he said. “The kids love it and my stomach loves it though.”

“I’m gonna need to start working out though if I keep this up. Oh hey is it okay if I do laps in the pool in the mornings? I’ll be super quiet and stuff.”

“You don’t gotta ask,” he smiled. “Like I said when you started, you got free reign to use the pool, the gym, whatever, aside from my room. You a swimmer?”

“Not really but I hate running and supposedly it’s a good workout or something,” you shrugged, eating another bite of brownie.

“Anything in the gym you’re free to use. I know you must get a little bored sometimes when I’m gone and the kids are,” he said.

“Not bored per say. Ordinarily I would do more chores but you have like a cleaner and a landscaper and you just...give me more time in the day than I’m used to is all. It’s actually great though. It gives me plenty of time to come up with ideas for the kids and stuff.”

“Well as long as you’re taking breaks and your lunch do as you please,” he said, his spoon scraping the bottom of his bowl.

“Now that’s just sad.”

“I really should get another one of these,” he said, sucking the spoon.

“It’s really the only choice you have,” you said. He laughed as he hopped up, skirting back into the kitchen and fixing up another brownie and ice cream combo.

“Hey you want more, Dee?” he asked. You popped your head up and he spun around. “I’m-“

“Don't apologize, Jensen,” you said. He tapped his fingers against the counter and took a deep breath, putting his back to you.

“That’s the second time tonight I’ve done that,” he said.

“Jensen. There’s nothing wrong with missing your wife.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t...talk about her much.”

“It was...she wasn’t…” he trailed off. He sat down on a barstool and you got up, walking over and hopping up on the counter beside him. You set your feet in the stool next to his and paused before you put a hand on top of his head and ran your fingers through the short strands. “This shouldn’t have happened to her.”

“Death is the price for living. Pain’s the price for caring. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it,” you said. You started to move your hand away when he turned his head.

“Don’t…” he said, easing when you played with it gently again. “That’s always calmed me down since I was a little kid.”

“Someone should take care of you every once in a while you know. Your parents, siblings, friends. Everyone needs a break.”

“I had a lot of help at the beginning. I don’t need a whole day. Just a moment here and there,” he said quietly.

“It’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. He nodded and you played with his hair a few moments, watching his shoulders ease. This time when you pulled away he smiled up at you. “Better?”

“Yeah. Thank you. That’s not in your job description to do that sort of thing.”

“Well I think your wife would want somebody to watch your back, even for only a minute or two,” you said.

“You don’t have any brain aneurysms I should know about, do you?” he chuckled.

“No. That what happened?” you asked, a single nod coming from him.

“She was sleeping. Not a bad way to go I was told, you’d never even know,” he said. “Not a fun thing to wake up to in the morning though.”

“My dad had a mass at the back of his head. It was that same kind of thing where one second it’s fine and the next everything’s different deal. It was inoperable. Then he goes and dies from a car accident of all things before it got bad. My mom had a hard time with that.”

“You said she had a boyfriend later on right?” he asked.

“Yeah. I know you’ll be okay, Jensen,” you said. You ruffled his hair and he smiled, a soft look on his face. “Pro tip too from someone who’s been there, kids with a single parent turn out just fine.”

“Do they ever wish they had another parent?” he asked.

“They wish the parent they still have around is happy again someday. They won’t understand until they’re older that it’s a different kind of love between parents. But they’ll know it’s a little different and they’ll hope dad feels better too. Your kids are tough. They’ll be okay too.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said. You hopped off the counter and washed up your dish, sticking it in the dishwasher before you went to leave for your room. “So I gotta ask. Who takes care of you?”

“Me?” you asked, pointing to yourself. He shrugged and smiled, your gaze going past him. “I’m all good. I don’t need somebody to take care of me.”

“Liar,” he said softly. “You know my friend tells me everybody needs to be taken care of sometimes.”

“That’s the difference between us Jensen. You’re not like me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed, his face scrunching up suddenly.

“It means you’re not on your own and even if you feel like it, it’s only been a little while. You’ll be okay. I’ve been taking care of myself since I was a kid. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“You haven’t lived my life and I haven’t lived yours. Don’t try to tell me that I’m not capable of-”

“It’s not about what you’re capable of. You said pain is part of life, it’s the price for living. You’ve had more than your fair share-”

“Lots of people have it a lot worse.”

“Don’t compare your pain to someone else's. They haven’t lived your life,” he said. You rolled your eyes and started to walk away, Jensen out of his seat and catching up with you in the hall. “You can be taken care of too you know.”

“By who? My non-existent circle of friends? My crappy ex? My mom’s ex boyfriend who’s got his own wife and kids? I am perfectly fine managing all of this by myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You’re so frustratingly annoying,” he said, running his hand over his face. “Me. I’m talking about me. You just...you took care of me tonight. The least I can do is show you the same compassion.”

“No,” you said.

“No? Why not?”

“Because taking care of me turns into you walking into my shower without my permission and you being a dick and this going away and I don’t want you to be those things so no. We’re getting too friendly. Please leave me alone tomorrow.”

You left him in the hall and went down to your area of the house, shutting the door after you. There was quickly a knock and you growled, ripping it open.

“What?” you snapped at him.

“I am not going to hurt you or be a dick to you or whatever else you think. You need to realize in the real world, not everyone is an asshole.”

“You’re the one not living in the real world then, Jensen. Everybody’s an asshole.”

“Fine. I’m an asshole. But I’m not leaving until you say I can take care of you tomorrow. Two minutes is all I’m asking for.”

“This is my part of the house.”

“And technically I am outside your door,” he said. “Why are you so resistant to somebody doing something nice for you?”

“Because I don’t wanna get used to it,” you said. He stared and you shook your head. “You’re attractive and an actor and kind and funny and it’s not a matter of if you date again but when and when that day comes, we ain’t gonna be sitting on the couch eating ice cream anymore. Please do not invite me to anymore outings as a friend. I’ll attend if required as a nanny but this between us is done.”

“For the record, the only one around here that thinks of you as just the hired help is you. My children are completely like their old selves. I feel more like my old self. You seem happier than when I met you but for some reason, that’s a big problem to you. I do not understand that.”

“Leave or I resign and move out first thing,” you said. He crossed his arms and lifted his chin. “This is my formal resignation then. The company will-”

He moved quickly and you weren’t sure what he was doing at first but soon you realized he was hugging you, your hands resting against his chest. You swallowed and he didn’t move, your forehead resting against him.

“What are you doing?” you breathed out.

“When’s the last time you got a fucking hug?” he asked.

“The kids-”

“Not the kids.”

“I don’t remember,” you said quietly.

“Then you are overdue,” he said. You let yourself reach your arms around him and return the hug, breathing deeply, a small bubble in you rising up. You tried to push it down but it came back harder and you were fighting back tears before you knew it.

He could feel when you lost that battle, hand rubbing up and down your back. There was a soft shushing in the air and after a few minutes you felt better. You lifted your head but didn’t look at him, Jensen squeezing you in his hug again before it eased.

“You know you’re not allowed to quit on me...like ever,” he chuckled. You let out a small laugh, Jensen smiling at you when you forced your head up. He wiped off your cheeks and you let out one last sniffle. “You’re not alone. I promise you’re not. It’s not the quantity of people you have in your life but the quality and I’m sorry but we are friends and there’s nothing you can do about that so I’d just accept it now.”

“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”

“You were scared, not a bitch,” he said. “I wish I could make you happier is all.”

“I wish I could bring back your wife for you,” you said.

“One of those is a lot more possible than the other,” he said. A small smile crossed his lips before he ducked his head down, shoulders heaving back before his head raised. “Y/N, can I confess something to you? I hope...I hope it doesn’t bother you but if it does, you don’t have to continue working for me. I’d still like to be friends regardless.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked, Jensen looking past you.

“My single friend I was going to set you up with? He doesn’t exist.”

“Oh.”

“Cause he’s kinda me.”

“Oh,” you said, staring at him, a lot of his previous behavior starting to click into place. “That’s…”

“I know,” he said, stepping away and rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s weird and douchey and I’m sorry. I like you and I was trying to see if you would ever go for a 42 year old actor. I left out the widow and kids part but...I’m sorry.”

“When did you like me?” you asked quietly.

“The whole time?” he said, laughing nervously to himself. “It’s kinda snowballed since we met. I never in my life thought I’d like someone again. I didn’t want to like you. I hired you because you were the best candidate and I knew the kids would be in good hands but everyday it’s there, even more, and I know this is so inappropriate on so many levels and I’m really starting to ramble here but you make me think maybe your mom had a point and people are allowed to have...more than one…and sometimes the way you talk to me and treat me and look at me...”

He swallowed as you stepped in front of him, taking a quick breath.

“I will keep working for you and I’ll be your friend...and you can make me dinner tomorrow,” you said with a smile. “We’ll see where it goes from there?”

“You’re not...weirded out?” he asked.

“By your age, you’re my boss or the cheeky lying about a fake friend?” you said.

“All of the above.”

“Age doesn’t bother me. You have no idea how to be a boss, no offense, and the friend...I don’t blame you for wanting to test the waters first,” you said. “But I expect honesty from here on out.”

“Absolutely,” he said.

“Good,” you said.

“You do like me right?” he asked. “Like you don’t feel obligated or-”

“I like you Jensen. Why do you think I was trying to push you away before you got too close? I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“Give me a chance to not,” he said. “We can have dinner and see how it goes from there.”

“Normally the best course of action,” you said.

“But maybe with a few more hugs from now on,” he said. “For the both of us.”

“That’d be okay with me,” you said. He smiled and you returned it. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“I guess you will,” he said. He turned to go when he spun back on his heels. “Or we could go back out there, eat way too much dessert and hang out?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Give me a minute to wash up my face.”

“Take all the time you want. I’m gonna change into something more comfortable anyways.”

He left and you washed off your face in the bathroom, drying it off and taking a deep breath.

You did like him. There was something calming about him to you and you enjoyed his company, even if it was just the two of you having a quiet cup of coffee in the morning.

But he was an actor. And kinda famous. And a widow. And had three kids.

“But your face is cute,” you said aloud, looking the mirror. “Gah, of course you have to be like...into me. Nutjob. He must be a nutjob. That’s it.”

“Y/N?” you heard him saying and you smacked yourself in the face. “Are you talking to yourself?”

“Uh, yeah,” you said, stepping out and seeing him in the hall sporting a pair of pajama pants and a t shirt. “That was fast.”

“Well I didn’t go through an eight step skin routine too,” he chuckled.

“For your information, my routine is only three steps,” you said, walking past him and waggling your fingers.

“I didn’t realize I was living with such a savage,” he said. You laughed and went back to the kitchen, making up another dish of brownie for him while he went over to where he kept his liquor. “You a bourbon kind of girl?”

“Is there any other kind?” you said.

“Touche.” He poured out two glasses and slid one over while you passed his bowl to him. “So what’s this three step routine? Do I need to up my game or what?”

“I think I need your routine, not the other way around,” you said.

“Nah. I like looking at your face more than mine. Trust me.”

“Oh. How long you been holding back those kinds of comments?” you teased.

“Longer than you’d think,” he said, sharing the bowl with you. “Feel okay now?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I cried,” you said. “Especially in front of someone.”

“A good cry session has never hurt in my experience. I’ll do it for work and stuff but normally I’m not much of one. Aside from the past six months I mean.”

“Are you ready to try this?” you asked.

“Yeah. I know I am,” he said. “I’m positive of it.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because you make me happy. You make me...want to do stuff again, believe in all the romantic...if I wasn’t ready, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t. I just know that maybe some people get more than one chance and maybe I’m one of them.”

“I know you are, whoever it ends up being,” you said.

“Are you ready to try this?”

You took a drink and bite of ice cream, pushing the bowl back.

“I miss my family,” you said. “I miss being happy. I’d like to...have someone that could take care of me for a moment every once in a while. I might mess that up sometimes but I’m willing to try.”

“Me too,” he said. “I’d expect some screw ups on this end too. I’ve been out of the dating game for a long time.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t changed all that much,” you said.

“Well I’ve never dated with kids and as a widow,” he said.

“I’m just in this for them to be honest,” you laughed.

“I see how it is,” he said with a smirk.

“I don’t think it’ll be as hard as you think,” you said.

“I hope not,” he said.

“Do they know? You want to date?”

“JJ does,” he said. “She’s little but she understands that it doesn’t mean I’ll never love her mother any less. She’s been strangely okay through this whole thing aside from the first few weeks. She helps her brother and sister out more now.”

“As someone who was that kid, minus the siblings, I know they’ll be okay. She’s a great kid. I’ve met plenty of spoiled brats. Yours are not.”

“Well that might just be the second best thing I’ve heard tonight,” he said.

“Whatever was the first?” you teased, eating a spoon of ice cream.

“Oh I think you know,” he said, stealing the spoon back. You smiled and heard some feet run around upstairs before the stairs creeped and a little head ducked down into view. “Arrow. It’s bedtime sweetie.”

“I had a accident,” she said. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, honey,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Want help?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said. He scooped up Arrow on the way up the stairs, setting her down in the kids bathroom. He got some clean pajamas and you found a pair of pull ups, Arrow pouting at you.

“I don’t need ‘em,” she said.

“Your brother wears them. I wore them and your mommy and daddy wore them. Everybody wears pull ups when they’re your age,” you said.

“Just tonight,” she said, stepping into them. Jensen walked past with the mattress liner and she was dressed by the time you heard the washer going off in the distance. You walked her back to bed, Jensen slipping in past you and tucking her in. “Night daddy.”

“Night sweetie,” he said, kissing her temple.

“Night Y/N,” she said.

“Night night kiddo,” you said, giving her a tiny wave before you left, Jensen flipping off her light and pulling the door shut.

“Come here a second,” he said, nodding and you saw him head towards his room. The double doors were open and you stepped inside, Jensen going past the bed and over to a set of french doors. He pushed one open and waved for you to follow, showing you out to a rooftop balcony.

“Wow,” you said, a set of chairs, a table and a lounger out there along with a whole lot soft string lights. “I didn’t realize you had this up here.”

“Kinda a place to go unwind, relax,” he said. “I disappear out here sometimes. Been out here a lot at night lately.”

“Thinking about what?” you asked.

“You,” he said. “I talk to Dee about you sometimes as crazy as that sounds.”

“Doesn’t sound crazy at all,” you said.

“I just wanted to say...this area isn’t off limits anymore. Nothing is,” he said.

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” you said with a smile. He rubbed the back of his neck and blushed. “You’re cute.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek, heading back towards inside.

“Come on, Jensen. Before the ice cream melts on us.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 4 here!

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles au #rpf #jensen series #rpf series #jensen ackles x reader #spn fanfic #jensen fanfic #jensen ackles fanfic #supernatural fanfic

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helnjk · 3 years

Text

Sweater - G.W.

George Weasley x fem!reader

Requested: yes

hi could you write something for george weasley using prompts 29, 11, 36? if your requests are still open❤️⚡️

“i’m running out of jumpers, just so you know”

“i like having something that smells like you”

“how long have you been standing there?”

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: the 5 times George Weasley sees you in his sweater and the 1 time you get your own.

Warnings: mentions of food

A/N: we’re just gonna //ignore// that this doesn’t follow the canon timeline exactly (especially where they spent christmas certain years) okay? cool. also! this was very festive so i guess this can be counted as a christmas fic 🥰

Prompts are in bold

One

The Gryffindor common room was freezing. Despite being situated as close to the fire as physically possible (without getting burned), you shivered and shook in your thin sweater. You were trying to work on a last minute potions essay, the last one before the Christmas hols began, but your current freezing state was stopping you from writing another word.

You scanned the empty room, most students already having retired to bed that night. A flash of blue and yellow in the far corner of the room caught your eye. Quickly, you scrambled up off the floor and rushed to investigate.

On the back of one of the squishy red couches hung a blue sweater with a yellow letter G right in the middle. You knew immediately who owned it: George Weasley, another Gryffinder first year like you. With another glance around the room, you quickly snatched it up and slid it over your head.

Immediately, the thick wool provided enough warmth for you to get back to your work.

A while later, you finished the last sentence of your paper with a flourish, just as you heard someone shuffle down the spiral staircase and into the common room. Your head snapped up as the person in question came to view and your heart stopped.

“Y/L/N?” George whispered, barely making your face out since the fire was directly behind you.

“Hi George,” You squeaked, “What’re you doing up so late?”

His eyes darted around the room in search of something, and you felt your stomach drop. “Erm, yeah. I got cold so I was just looking for my–”

When his gaze circled back to you he finally noticed what you were wearing, “Is that my sweater?”

You nodded, squirming under his gaze. If it wasn’t past midnight in the dead of winter, and if he wasn’t hazy with sleep, he would’ve probably teased you senselessly about it. But seeing the sweater swallowing you, the shoulders slipping off and the sleeves way past your fingers, all he could do was grin.

“It’s alright,” He said, “Just wanted to know where it was. At least now I know that it’s in good hands.”

With a cheeky wink, he turned on his heel and trudged back up the boys’ staircase. You were left staring at where he previously stood, your mouth slightly agape.

Did that really just happen?

Two

Gleeful shouts carried over from the snow covered fields and into the warm house. From your spot by the window, you could just barely make out the tiny figures zooming past each other, contrasting against the pale landscape.

You clutched at a steaming mug of tea, basking in the warmth it gave your chilly hands. Despite your best efforts, you were still shivering in the house that most likely had several heating charms in place at all times.

After being friends with the Weasley twins for nearly three and a half years, you were finally going to spend the Christmas hols at the Burrow with their family. To say you were excited would be an understatement. With everything going on in school, you were ecstatic to be able to spend some time with some of your best friends.

The warmth and the heavenly smells radiating from the kitchen made you gravitate towards the door. Maybe helping out with the cooking could ease up some of the chill you had in your bones.

“Would you like some help, Molly?” You asked hopefully, seeing her putter about in the kitchen. You knew that she had a whole hoard of mouths to fill, so you were happy to offer her some assistance.

She tutted in response, “Nonsense, dear! I’m quite fine managing on my own. Thank you for the offer.”

With a swish of her wand, several things in the kitchen began moving at once and you were left to your own devices. You spared a quick glance out the window, only to see the silhouettes still racing in the sky.

An idea struck you and you made your way up the stairs as quickly as possible without drawing too much attention to yourself. Thankfully, the twins’ room was just on the second floor of the house and their door was left slightly ajar.

You were quick to spot George’s battered old trunk laying at the foot of his bed. Your cold fingers nimbly popped the latch open and clutched onto exactly what you were looking for. His old blue Christmas sweater was soft to touch and a little worn, but you thought that it added to its charm.

One of the main reasons why you rummaged through George’s things for his sweater, instead of Fred’s, was that his distinct woodsmoke and apple scent clung onto it and made you feel safe and warm wrapped in it. You pressed the soft fabric to your face and inhaled deeply, taking comfort in the familiar scent of your best friend.

You were not sniffing the jumper because it reminded you of your crush on a certain redheaded twin, no. Not at all.

Swiftly, you lifted the jumper above your head and slipped into it. You loved the feel of the warm wool enveloping your frame. It would have been almost perfect if you hadn’t heard someone clear their throat from the doorway.

Your heart jumped to your throat as you turned on your heel and spotted George leaning against the doorway.

“Well, well, well,” He teased, making his way to you, “What do we have here? A sweater thief?”

“How long have you been standing there?” You mumbled, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Long enough to see that you’re apparently obsessed with me.” He grinned cheekily.

You rolled your eyes and tried to hide the fact that a blush was creeping up your neck and onto your cheeks, “Shove off, Weasley.”

He swung an arm loosely around your shoulders, “Well I don’t think you can use that kind of language on me now, Y/N. Especially when that’s my jumper you’re going around wearing and sniffing.”

You groaned, shoving your head on his chest to hide your embarrassment, “I just like having something th–”

“You’re going to have to speak up, love, I can’t quite understand you.” He said, and you felt like his teasing grin would be permanently etched onto his face.

“I like having something that smells like you, okay?” You mumbled, this time a little louder and less muffled.

When George didn’t immediately respond, your heart began to pick up its pace in your chest. Slowly, you backed away from his face and your gaze landed on the flush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

A slow smile etched itself onto your face, “Have I just made the George Weasley blush?”

“Oh shut it sweater sniffer.”

You laughed, the slightly awkward tension dissipating at the sound and the two of you made your way back downstairs.

Three

“Psst.” A voice whispered next to you.

Your brows furrowed and you looked up from the book in front of you to see your boyfriend grinning cheekily at you, “Yes, George?”

The Great Hall was practically silent, the only sounds resonating throughout the space were the scratching of quills and the rolling of parchment. Your voice was barely above a whisper as you weren't about to get scolded for chatting during study hall.

“Nothing,” He said bashfully, “I just think you look very beautiful today.”

Surprised at his sudden show of affection, you grinned up at him, “Thanks Georgie.”

Your hand slid across the dark stained table to squeeze his and you hadn’t let go as you continued on with your coursework. You were able to get quite a bit done before you felt George squeezing your hand to get your attention. When your eyes met his, you sent him a look to say what is it this time?

Slowly, he shuffled close enough to you to whisper directly into your ear, “I think you’d look much better wearing something of mine though.”

With a roll of your eyes, you focused back on the rolls of parchment before you. Ever since you two had officially gotten together, George had a thing for you wearing any type of clothing of his. His most favorite, he had confessed, was when you wore his Christmas jumpers. The nostalgia attached to the piece of clothing and seeing it envelop you made his heart soar whenever you’d slip it over your head.

The next Friday, despite the freezing weather, all students were required to head out to the Black Lake to watch the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. You took it as an opportunity to adorn the blue and yellow sweater, making sure to layer appropriately for the below zero temperatures.

You could hear the twins’ shenanigans before you even reached the stands. The pair of red hair stood out among the crowds and let you know which direction to make your way to. Thankfully, you also spotted Lee Jordan saving a few seats around him while the twins went and collected bets.

When you reached him, he sent you a grin and patted a space next to him. The two of you chatted aimlessly for a bit, waiting not so patiently for either the twins to come back or for the second task to begin.

From George’s spot within the crowds, he glanced back at where he knew Lee to be saving a seat for him. The sight of you all bundled up in his sweater made something in his heart stop. The chilly breeze nipping at your face had caused your nose to turn slightly pink, and the way your hands fumbled at the end of the long sleeves moved something in him. He’s suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of wanting to keep you in his life for as long as you let him.

You catch his eye from your position and send him a small wave. He grins and returns the gesture before Fred nudges him in the side to take the payment a third year is holding out.

Four

The whole house seemed to absorb the darkness that the Weasley clan brought with them. It was nearing sun up, and the lot of you along with Harry, Remus, and Sirius were all gathered in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, awaiting any sort of sign that Arthur was going to be okay.

After being shaken awake at the dead of night by George who was a mess of stumbled over words and tight grips, you didn’t think of anything else but to slip on the sweater he had lent you and follow him to Dumbledore’s office. Professor McGonagall simply raised her eyebrows at your presence in the midst of the rest of the Weasley children, saying nothing as she saw how George had clung on so tightly to you.

The illegal portkey Dumbledore created landed you right in the middle of the dreary old house you had spent much of your summer in. Remus and Sirius had tried their hardest to distract everyone from the brutality of the situation, but your boyfriend and his siblings wanted nothing but to sit around anxiously for any signal from the outside world.

So far, you had nodded in and out of sleep, your head lightly tapping against George’s shoulder as you fought to just be there with him. His grip on your hand had not ceased, but you weren’t complaining. His leg bounced up and down anxiously and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“It’ll be okay Georgie,” Became your mantra of the night, whispering it every so often and rubbing the back of his hand gently with your thumb.

He wouldn’t say anything in reply, his red rimmed eyes were unfocused, but you knew he heard you with the way he squeezed your hand.

When the message from Molly comes, spirits are slightly raised, but there’s still so much uncertainty. You decided to step out for a moment to use the restroom, splashing some cold water on your face in an attempt to wake yourself up some more. As you took in your sleep deprived and disheveled state in the mirror, you remembered that you’ve been wearing George’s sweater.

Quickly, you haphazardly pulled the garment over your head, smoothing down the crumpled sleeping shirt you’ve been wearing under it. In a flash, you’re making your way to where the Weasley clan has settled in for what seems like the whole day and take a seat next to George once again.

Silently, you held out his sweater to him. It took a few seconds for him to realize that you were offering for him to wear it.

“Thought you’d need the extra comfort right now,” You whispered, urging him to put it on.

A spark of recognition blazed in his eyes and he gently took the soft sweater from your hands. The moment it slipped over his head, he was immediately engulfed in your scent. All of a sudden, he was transported to three years prior when you had told him you enjoyed having something that smelled like him.

When his eyes met yours, you could make out a ghost of a smile on his lips. It had been the first expression he had pulled that night, or well it was early morning now, that wasn’t a grimace or a look of concern.

You smiled tentatively back at him, and he took your hand in his once again.

Five

The pale winter morning light leaked in through the windows and you blinked blearily. The soft inhale and exhale of George beside you and the warmth under the covers almost convinces you that you could afford to shut your eyes for a few more minutes. Almost. You groan as you remember what day it is and that you should be up soon.

It was Christmas morning. The first Christmas after the war had ended, and everyone was eager to bring some festive cheer back into their lives after having gone through such dark times.

As silently as you could, you left the warm confines of the duvet and began to pad your way into the kitchen. Christmas morning called for a full english and a pot of fresh tea. On the way out of the room you shared with George, you snagged one of his older blue sweaters and pulled it over your head.

Thankfully, that morning Fred hadn’t made it out of bed yet. Breakfast at the flat above the shop could go two ways; either you made it out of bed first and got the food cooking on the stove before one of the twins stumbled in sleepily, or Fred would be sat on the couch nursing his nth cup of tea that morning, having woken up due to some nightmares that he couldn’t quite shake off yet.

With a flick of your wand, ingredients made their way into their perspective pans, and plates and utensils floated down from the cupboards and onto the kitchen table. Soon, the enticing aroma of your favorite meal of the day was wafting through the corridors and into the other rooms.

As you were plating the steaming food, a voice called out from behind you, “I’m running out of jumpers you know.”

You looked up from your position fixing the plates of food on the table, to see George leaning against the door frame. Clad in only his pajama bottoms, you silently wondered if he was just never cold or if he did this to tease you on purpose.

“What’s yours is mine, love.” You shrugged, walking over to him and pressing a small kiss at the very edge of his mouth.

“Guess it’s good that you make me wonderful food everyday,” He says, eyeing the food laid out in front of him.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Oi, keep talking like that and I’m making meals just for myself!”

Later in the day, you sipped peacefully on Molly’s famous hot chocolate, seated on the squishy couch as the rest of the Weasley clan began to open their gifts. Fred was sat under the tree, rummaging through the different wrapped packages and throwing them to whomever they were addressed to. Little by little, each Weasley sibling began to pull out their signature colored Weasley jumper.

It filled your heart with so much warmth that you could all come together, especially after the last year you’ve had. Being separated from the people you loved and cared for the most had really taken a toll on all of you, so being under one roof together with nothing dark looming at the back of your minds, was such a blessing.

“Hey,” George whispered from where he stood behind the couch, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You turned slightly to look back at him, “What’s up, Georgie?”

“Come with me,” He nudged his head in the direction of the door.

“But I’m all warm and cozy,” You whined, motioning to the cup of hot chocolate in your hands, “Do I have to?”

“Oh just come on,” He rolled his eyes, going to place his hands under your armpits in an attempt to lift you off the sofa.

“Oi!” You complained, “I’m coming, I’m coming! Don’t get your wand in a knot.”

A few of the Weasleys sent amused glances your way, but this kind of interaction wasn’t unusual in the household so they mostly left you to your own devices. You hadn’t noticed that Molly was eyeing you with a slightly cheeky glint in her eye. She knew exactly what her son had in mind.

You gently placed your mug on the coffee table before turning around and linking your arm with George’s. He brought you just by the window of the kitchen and gave you a big grin.

“Alright then, Weasley. What’s all this about then?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I just wanted a little privacy so I could give you your gift.” An eyebrow raised slightly, you waited for him to continue, “I just thought you would finally like one of your own this year.”

To say you were confused was an understatement. You eyed your boyfriend nervously as he pulled a wrapped package seemingly from thin air. You wasted no time pulling the ribbon and carefully tearing at the brown paper.

Inside was a sweater that matched the exact blue of George’s, and right smack in the middle was the initial of your name in the same shade of yellow.

Your eyes darted from the gift and back up at the wonderful soul in front of you, and you couldn’t help but feel the prick of tears welling up.

He noticed this too, “Are you alright? I didn’t mean to make you cry. I just thought that you loved my jumpers so much that I would make you your own–”

At the realization that he had made the sweater himself, and hadn’t commissioned Molly to do it, made the dams of your eyes break. Your tears were freely falling by now and all you could think of doing was throwing your arms around George and pulling him into a slightly salty but ever so sweet kiss.

“I love it,” You whispered once you broke apart, “This is the best Christmas gift ever.”

#George Weasley #George Weasley imagines #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley fics #George Weasley fic #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley x y/n #George Weasley reader insert #George Weasley fluff #tw food

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echo-of-sounds · 3 years

Text

daddy dom pt.2

Headcanons on the types of Daddy Dom Toshinori, Hizashi, and Fatgum are.

All three of these men are underappreciated.

Warnings: Daddy Dom relationship, (the rest is only mentioned, there’s no real detail) punishments, slapping, spanking (with and without a paddle), anal play, ball gags, handcuffs, and rough sex

Yagi Toshinori

Toshinori’s been exposed to dominant play in sex, but it’s never captured his interest. Sex to him is sensitive, sensual, and intimate. The harsher side, slapping, choking, and anything close to rough, he is more than unenthusiastic towards. He can’t find pleasure in pain, even if the pain gives you pleasure. It’s caused so much heartache in his life, and he truly can’t bring himself to incorporate it during a time that’s supposed to be passionate and loving.

However, he isn’t opposed to being a Daddy. When you bring it up, he reads about and talks to you about it in detail before making a decision. He doesn’t mind being dominant. In fact, he quite enjoys being your protector, someone who you can confide in, who you can snuggle up against, sheltered in his arms while he pets and kneads your body. He’s your number one supporter and shields you from the stress of the world.

Toshi is the sweetest Daddy. You’re his sweetie, his sweetheart, and his sweet girl. Whatever catches your eye, he keeps in mind to buy for a present because he overindulges your every whim. He has money. He has the necessities. He rarely buys himself expensive, lavish things, which means he has plenty of money to spoil you with: books and movies you’re interested in, new clothing and jewelry, that adorable stuffed animal you reluctantly walked past, board, card, and video games, lotion, blankets, etc…

He dislikes punishment and so very rarely uses it. It’s at most a light spanking to get your attention. Daddy prefers positive reinforcement and talking to you about your misbehavior. That way, you can understand who important listening is, especially when it comes to his rules. You shouldn’t eat too many cookies because it’ll upset your stomach. You shouldn’t leave clothes and books strewn across the floor because someone could slip and fall. You shouldn’t cum before he permits because he is your Daddy and listening to him is important. The second you apologize, he’s back to caressing and kissing you.

You should always try to wear Daddy’s favorite colors. It gets you more cuddles and compliments. Anything in lilac, baby pink, and soft cream draws his hands towards you like a magnet. Panties with cute, little bows are a cherry on top. Wear a cream dress at home. Your lavender panties can be seen through the thin material. From across the room, you can feel his eyes. He’ll eventually tell you to come and sit on his lap. He massages your sides as you rest on his shoulder. If you want, start grinding. Your gradually wetting underwear informs him of your arousal. Don’t worry, he’ll take care of it for you.

For bedtime, he has a soft spot for cock warming. He absolutely loves falling asleep when you’re connected. He’ll lay down. You just have to straddle him and slip him inside. Don’t move. Simply lay on his chest, kissing his collarbones and neck, drowsily mumbling how and why you love him. His hums of love warm your body. His breath warms your skin. As you start to drift off, his arms cushion you safe and sound- your own little safe haven.

Soft sex is the norm. Daddy’s respectful, attentive, devoted, and eager to feel the heat of your body. Each easy thrust pushes deep, stretching you to fit him perfectly. Don’t hide your face or moans. They urge his hips to forage for more. When you’re fussing because you’re right there, he speeds up, kissing you profoundly, fiercely, whispering in his amorous, baritone voice, “It’s okay, Sweetie. Let yourself cum. Daddy’s right here. Daddy’s right here.”

Because of Toshi’s physical health, he isn’t able to have sex as frequently as the other guys. But he still pampers you plenty. He’ll buy you a pink vibrator to circle your clit with. You can ride his bare thigh, spreading your wetness over him as he guides your hips. He’ll watch you hump a pillow and cry out for your Daddy. He’ll finger you till you’re satisfied. He just wishes you to be pleased however, and whenever you need it.

Rough sex isn’t exactly rough sex. But you do get to ride Daddy however you want. You can bounce excitedly or grind hastily or buck in sheer, vulgar heat. His compliments mix into groans the more you ride. He sucks your breasts. He spanks your ass. He grips your thighs until his nails nearly cut skin. It’s the time for you to have your fun and make Daddy feel pleasured like he always does for you.

Yamada Hizashi

Straightaway, Hizashi knew dominance was something he wanted. He likes leading and commanding someone under him, probing, inspecting, and licking every part of them. When you start a relationship, he opens up to you, wanting to know what you do and don’t like, and his interests are shared back.

You’re his one and only baby girl. No one else gets that name but you. You’re his teddy bear, snuggling you at bedtime. He shows you new places, feeds you new foods, and gives you new experiences you’ve never had before. Your joy and delight is the epitome of beauty. He strives to see it in your eyes and smile as much as possible.

On top of being his baby, you’re also his little experiment. He does everything to you, in whatever way he wants: fingering your ass, slowly spreading you wider and wider, praising your patience; having you ride two dildos at once as he watches your breasts and expressions; forcing you to stand still with a vibrator deep within you, unable to cum or whine or even move until he’s completely and utterly satisfied. No matter what it is, he just likes having fun and thinking of new ways to make you squirm.

When he’s out and about, go onto his laptop and search for whatever you want. Do those panties look incredibly comfortable? Add it to his cart. Is that necklace calling your name? Add it to his cart. Is that cute glass wand something you want to play with? Add it to his cart. He’ll buy them all. And the second they arrive, you better use them. Wear only the panties and necklace. Lick and rub yourself with the dildo. Show him just how much you enjoy the presents.

One thing you can do to help your Daddy relax is to let him suck your breasts. Hizashi hides his stress well. When he’s abnormally snugly, burrowing his head into your chest, hibernating under the blankets with you, it’s stress. Take off your shirt, and he’ll attach to your nipple. It’s not sexual. Something to nurse on is soothing for him. Daddies need comfort too!

Hizashi is super playful when he’s in his Daddy mode (not that different from his usual self, but he’s more hyperfocused on you). Keep in mind that that doesn’t mean he won’t discipline you after any mischief. If you don’t follow the list of rules on the fridge, fun Daddy goes away and it’s punishment time. His go-tos are timeouts, no phone, no Tv, early bedtime and, as much as it pains him, no cuddling.

When you’re being really disobedient, his voice lowers, grating his throat, vibrating his chest. It’s definitely provoking. His spankings even more so. As he stuffs you full of anal beads, you begin to think it isn’t even a punishment. But then he blindfolds and ties you up. You’re left all alone in the bedroom, in the cold air, can’t see, can’t move, only able to feel the toys gorged deep inside you for hours. If you fuss, he comes and puts a ball gag in your mouth. It’s best to wait it out until he’s convinced you’ve been appropriately disciplined.

Punishments often transition into rough, fast, dominating sex. You’re still bound and gagged and stuffed as his thrusts start. Let him hear your helpless whimpers. Let him listen to your drenched, lewd sex every time he sinks deep. He spreads you wide open and fondles you however he wants. Don’t be a bad girl. Grant him ownership of your body. It frequently ends with him cumming in your ass and plugging it with a butt plug. Keep it inside because the punishment isn’t over.

While he does enjoy the rough and tough, Daddy also values slowing down, kissing your body, and gifting you with plenty of loyal, loving rapture. You can choose the position: do you want to ride him as he kisses you? Or do you want Daddy to draw out his time on top of you, thrusting deep and intensely, giving you all the pleasure in the world? Either way, he makes do, nuzzling your neck, squeezing your thighs, praising his baby girl for everything she is.

Taishiro Toyomitsu

Taishiro is naturally so playful and so willing to experiment. The way he unconsciously praises his partner is a hint to his inner Daddy just waiting to come out. He sighs, ‘that’s a good girl’ as you blow him. He groans, ‘good job, baby’ as you cum. He grunts, ‘you’re taking me perfectly’ as he releases, thick and heavy, inside you. All you have to do is whimper for your Daddy and from then on out, that’s exactly who he is.

Baby, baby girl, little girl, good girl, Daddy uses them all. You’re his major weakness. He’s your biggest cheerleader, your safest space, your confidant, the one you can run to when you’re upset, overwhelmed, excited, and scared. He never wants you to feel alone. It’s a Daddy’s responsibility to ensure his little girl feels respected and heard, and he always assures you’re loved.

Daddy loves bathing you. He sits beside the tub and washes your back. He’ll coo loving praises as he cleans your body thoroughly. The plush washcloth and soothing soap brushes feather-light across your shoulders, down your back, and between your legs, making sure you’re neat (and cute) as a button. After you’re wrapped in a huge, fluffy towel and carried to bed where you’re slowly patted dry. Then he bundles you to his chest for sleep.

Compliments your ‘pretty pussy’ all the time. It’s Daddy’s and it’s beautiful. When he’s watching TV and the mood strikes, he slowly lays you down, lifts your dress, takes off your panties, and fingers and stretches and strokes you to his heart’s content. But he won’t let you orgasm. And you can’t complain or touch yourself. You can only lay open for his pleasure. He delights in your tongue sticking out, searching for something to suck on, and your glazed-over eyes silently begging for him to give you so much more.

Tai is definitely the type of Daddy who likes to be comforted now and then. He tries to hide his insecurities so you don’t worry. But he deserves the care and attention he’s always showing you. When he’s fidgeting with his clothes, ask him for some skin-to-skin cuddling. Kiss his stretch marks. Sigh or sing for him. Just woo his beautiful, handsome heart.

Cock warming is one of his favorites. It can be a punishment when you’re back talking or not listening. He makes you sit there for hours, your wet, swollen lips around his cock as you squirm, trying not to touch yourself. Then when he finally finishes, that’s it. You don’t get any gratification for misbehaving. It pleases the dom part of Daddy Dom. He also uses it whenever he misses you and your body. You sit on him and relax against his tummy, softly kissing, gently stroking him as both your arousals drip and mix together.

Rough sex means you’re going to get controlled. Cute, pink nipple clamps go on, handcuffs restrain your wrists behind your back, and a paddle will spank your ass raw. The paddle has little hearts in it, imprinting the designs onto your sore skin. Every thrust jerks your body, bearing his weight brutally into you. Every clit slap arches your back, harsher and higher. Every little sound you make will be praised, earning you more and more spankings. As you cum, the thrusts keep on coming, fully intent on making you orgasm until the sheets are soaked.

But when you finally collapse, Daddy tenderly releases your hands, gently lifts you, then carries you off for a warm bubble bath. If you ask, he’ll most certainly join. Arms will cradle you perfectly to his chest. Lips kiss all over your shoulders and chest, cherishing your scars, idolizing blemishes, worshiping every inch. He wants you to know and feel how much he treasures you, especially after particularly rough sex.

To start soft sex, Daddy expects you to sit on his face. Grind as his tongue tastes all of you. You have to cum on his face at least once before proceeding. That’s his one rule during lovemaking. Other than that, you can ask for anything, and he’ll oblige. Holding you close, he walks you through every orgasm, asking, ‘how much do you love Daddy?’ With how highly he coddles and comforts you, it’s indescribable.

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joannasteez · 3 years

Note

Headcanon for Angel and rough sex

𝐑𝐔𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘

Another request for Angel and another long headcanon for the books. Hope you enjoy!! Gif creds @angelreyesgirl

☠︎

Frustration. It’s usually frustration that gets Angel going so rough, long ring clad fingers prying without wait or warning against your skin. The hot pinching sting of his grip bordering callous as he twist and turns your body to his liking, ripping woefully at the at times thin make of your clothes to access the more sensitive parts of you. And somewhere, never having been hidden deep inside you at all, is a joy, colored red and flaming hot at the way he handles you. Desire melting smooth in your veins and pressurizing deep in your core to produce a dazzling diamond like lust.

And it’s the club more times than none thats got him feeling this way, shoulders tense and blood simmering, threatening to burn straight through his skin before he explodes into an un-returnable rage. That narrowed devilish look in his eye, accented by furrowed brows and irises all black and consuming. Sometimes the runs are bad, or a templo meeting concludes with a decision he isn’t very fond of, the possibilities are quite endless but you are left to deal with and handle a frustrated Angel all the same.

But you do it well.

When the both of you are in the thick of it, the drag of his hot, heavy length rude and unforgiving as he takes you deep, you whisper to him. “Deeper baby, make it hurt”. And he listens, spreading your legs wider to reach that special, breath catching place that makes you hiss. Makes you scratch along his skin as your mouth parts, whimpers soft in the air.

And a large part of his frustration stems from the lack of control, over life, over others, and the decisions he’s too insignificant in the grand scheme of reality to handle because who is he?, to change the fate of something destined to go bad. To go wrong or completely opposite of his expectations. Life could be a real fucking pain sometimes but this?, the way your wrists are bound to the bed with just one of his hands as he delivers thrust hitting so hard. It develops a good ache, one that you’ll reminisce about later, one that’ll make heat rise to your cheeks and cause a slick wetness to pool.

You’ll remember how wet his grunts made you, the chest deep groan so robust as they rumbled in his chest, thrumming just under your skin to pulse heavy at the swelling flesh of your clit. The bend in your thighs burn bright but the heady bliss building in your belly overrides it so well, so good and then when he’s really in it he’ll grab the headboard with his other hand because it gives him a good leverage. Makes him reach deeper, hit harder and the slim tears pooling at your eyes start to stain the sheets.

But when he’s frustrated he won’t say much, his mind and his body too preoccupied with wanting that nice hazy release but he loves to hear you talk. Loves to hear the sultry form your voice takes when you tell him how deep he is, or how good he’s fucking you because the friction inside your wetness is addicting. It’s delirium inducing and it only urges your body to respond in kind, tightening around him as your back arches. Breast soft, rounded and pretty as they curve toward him.

But the tension in his limbs, settled way into his bones doesn’t fizzle out till hours later, when both your bodies are finally going taut, bliss enrapturing you like a cold rushed breeze in summer. It’s relief.

But Angel’s frustrations aren’t always the cause of his roughness. Sometimes its his possessiveness.

It shows more often when you’re going places without him; Clubs, parties or job related functions, and you’ve got a good amount of dresses you put on rotation because they hug you perfect, in all the right places and it drives him crazy. But he’s never against you wearing them, that conversation was settled fairly on in your relationship, but it doesn’t mean his heart beats any less harder, or his paranoia lessens any. And it damn sure doesn’t stop the hardness growing in his jeans.

You’ve got a little red number you wear every so often, and it drives him up the wall. He’s basically feral and salivating as he watches you get ready in front the mirror and like clockwork, just when you’re almost done, he starts giving you those eyes. Eyes that shine with a soft sparkled light of admiration before they dip slowly, sinking into a darkness where he wants to be the only one to adore you this way and the thought of not being able to sets his blood aflame.

His hands tingle, wanting to touch you, body fidgety as your legs somehow become longer when you slip on those red red-bottoms you keep tucked away in the box. Jewelry shimmering against your skin making you look more priceless than you already are and ‘fuck!’ he thinks when you spare him a glance. Lips perfect as they slip into a little smirk because you know you look good as hell.

He’s behind you in a second, chin resting light at your shoulder, fingers roaming the soft fabric as he takes your scent in. Sweet but not overly so, just enough to tease his senses and make him want you more. ‘Someone else is gonna be experiencing this tonight’, he thinks and it has him gripping your hips a little tighter. Laying wet kisses along the plain of your neck.

“The girls are gonna be here soon to pick me up”, you moan. Loving the warmth of his lips on your skin. And he’s already pulling at the hem of your dress. Lifting it to reveal equally red lace panties and he nearly throws you against the dresser. “I can work with soon”, he says and you’re too into the feeling of those cool metal rings to object.

And after he’s got you ready enough, fingers wet and glistening as they play at your sensitive opening, you deliver a whimper to the air, that speaks to the overwhelming feeling of how thick and long he is as he presses into your tight heat. Your spine curving in his hold as he fills you to the brim, your jaw clenching as you hiss, loving the fullness. Loving the way he drags deep every time against your walls, his right arm around your body as the other lays, the hand circling smooth at your bundled nerves.

And the pace is fierce, his hips digging as he roughs into you, right hand traveling from around you to hold your throat, the action lifting your head to have your eyes looking right into his through the mirror. “You know how much I love this dress, you did this shit on purpose”, he accuses. Licking a strip along your neck before he pricks the skin with his teeth. And its nothing overboard, just a simple bite, a reminder. “You’re such a fucking tease you know that”, he grunts. Left hand holding your hip with a bruising grip, the other squeezing just tight around your neck, enough not to leave marks. “But you’re mine right? Tell me who you belong to querida”.

You don’t answer right away, caught up in the hard pounding he’s giving you. Vision blurring, your body trembling in anticipation of the bliss that awaits you. But he wants to hear your voice, needs it, so he asks again, slowing his hips slightly to bring you back down. “Tell me”.

“Shit baby”, you moan. Still delirious from the fullness of him, the pulse of his length that causes you to shudder. Your own hips moving to bring back the delicious friction. “You Angel, I belong to you”.

He moans, the rasp in your voice birthing something in him, something animalistic as he sets that brutal pace again. Fingers swirling hard at your clit. Feeling the wetness build, drowning his fingers. “You’re dripping all over the floor mama, who’re you this wet for? Huh?”

“You baby”. Body trembling, so close to an earth shattering release. You can feel it, rippling under your skin, body on the verge of seizing, and its so palpable, the nearness of it. And when you reach it finally, when he hits just right against that sensitive place deep in you, the ecstasy that unfurls through your body and over your skin is magnificent. A feeling too overwhelming for words as it crashes into you rough like wind waves.

Taglist: @my-rosegold-soul @appropriate-writers-name @est1887 @xladymacbethx @blessedboo @brownsugarcoffy @elektriknachosss @queenbeered @sesamepancakes @superhoeva @witching-hour @noz4a2 @withmyteeth @rae-gar-targaryen @cruzwalters @rose-bliss @youlovetkay

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #long headcanon #mayans mc #joannasteez

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1kook · 3 years

Text

THE CHRISTMAS GIFT

— AN EXPLORER UNIVERSE DRABBLE :)

SUMMARY So now there’s a present for him under the tree, but none for you. Apparently that’s up to Jungkook to purchase, which leads him to this dilemma: what did you want for Christmas? WARNINGS alien!jk, tentacle mention hehe, and uhhh nothing else its just dorky n sweet :( RATING e for everyone <3 WC 1.2k

NOTES hello the other day i said something abt explorer jk not rlly understanding the concept of gift giving so here it is more in depth <3 just 1k of dorky alien boy trying to impress his human gf !!

Jungkook thinks this Santa Claus fellow is quite possibly the oddest figure on your planet. A man who single handedly visits the home of every single child across the globe on a flying sleigh pulled by flying deer? Ridiculous. It’s even more ridiculous when you honor this man with a plate of cookies in the living room.

“It’s just for fun,” you tell him, wobbling dangerously on a step stool in front of this massive tree you killed and then hauled inside to decorate its rotting carcass. The ornaments aren’t even placed in the most aesthetically pleasing pattern, a fact that greatly displeases Jungkook and his perfectionist mind. (You don’t see his extra arms slip out and rearrange them.) “It’s cute, isn’t it?”

In all his time traveling the galaxy, Jungkook has had the honor of studying many foreign races. He’s learned the intricacies of their societies, the mechanisms of their anatomy, and the beauty of their cultures. Yet he does not recall ever seeing a society where one bearded man— who apparently gorged himself on cookies year round —held such superiority. The concept of gods isn’t exclusive to your planet, but from what Jungkook understands, this Santa Claus fellow is not a god at all.

Oddly uniformed beings aside, there’s another thing Jungkook doesn't quite understand about this celebration, and that’s the bright red box beneath the dead tree with jungkook♡ written on the corner. It’s a gift, that much he gets, but he’s not sure what. Or why. You don’t tell him much either, simply warning him not to touch it until Christmas.

Jokes on you, because Jungkook is no ordinary being. He knows how to gather resources from his surroundings and put them to use, an ability that is very valuable when visiting foreign planets such as your Earth. The projection box plays a variety of movies surrounding this Christmas event in the days leading up to it. It’s a festive day, primarily for large corporations to profit off of holiday cheer and convince people they, for some reason, must participate in the act of gift giving. And the thing about gift giving, Jungkook learns, is that it is reciprocal.

So now there’s a present for him under the tree, but none for you. Apparently that’s up to Jungkook to purchase, which leads him to this dilemma: what did you want for Christmas?

The projection box says Humans similar to you enjoy being presented with jewels and clothing, occasionally electronic devices that are apparently ‘new’ for you Humans.

But the jewels displayed are practically worthless in Jungkook’s eyes— a diamond ring? As far as Jungkook and the rest of the Sixamians were concerned, the sole purpose of a diamond was for recreational sports. Anyone could get a diamond in Sixam, they were as common as the avian beings on your planet were. But you and the rest of the Humans obsess over them, retail them for ridiculously high prices.

Diamonds are out of the running, which leaves Jungkook with clothing or electronic devices. Similar to the diamond dilemma, the electronics don’t convince him much either. Smilodon had gotten into your room one day, completely knocked everything off your desk. While Jungkook had been able to revive your PC box, the cracked screen of your monitor was irreparable. Jungkook’s first trip to the city was that day, your visit to a Best Buy his first real outing. (You had sat him down in the kitchen and dabbed warrior paint, called concealer, over his facial markings.) The complete wonder he felt at seeing the city for the first time was shattered upon entering this Best Buy and seeing the horrendous quality of your electronic advancements.

Needless to say, electronics are also out.

By then, Jungkook can’t even fathom searching for clothing as a present. What did you like? He’s not sure, your preference in clothing varied everyday. Some days you enjoyed being bundled up in thick, cozy sweaters, but at night you would strip down to the thinnest materials. Did you like thick clothing or light? What was the most appropriate clothing for this season? Was there a specific size chart he had to refer to, or did Human clothing abide by the same form configuring rules that Sixamian clothing did?

Christmas is tomorrow and Jungkook has not found a suitable present for you! His head hurts, but more importantly, his heart hurts. The projection box says Humans are greatly dissatisfied when they are forgotten in the gift-giving tradition, and Jungkook does not want that. He wants you to smile at him like the figures on the projection box do— maybe kiss him under the viscum album, or ‘mistletoe,’ plant —and just genuinely enjoy yourself.

Time is running out and Jungkook doesn’t know what to do. Smilodon is giving him a rather disappointed look from the windowsill that Jungkook does not appreciate. It’s as he’s huffily shooing the creature away that he sees it. And by it, Jungkook means the flowerbed on your windowsill. The dirt is cold, the plants practically near death. But Jungkook knows you like flowers, these flowers in particular, because you spent all summer watering them and tending to them. You’re one of the finest botanists Jungkook has ever seen— and that’s saying a lot, considering Jungkook also considers himself an amazing botanist. Surely you like flowers?

He hurriedly gathers the last of the plants, hands shivering from the cold. He isn’t sure how to present them, how to wrap them like the Humans on the projection box do, so he’s left awkwardly hovering by the window with the dead flowers in his hand. He can’t set them down either because then they will unravel from the careful bouquet Jungkook had organized in his haste.

You have extra limbs for a reason, his brain just about screams, and Jungkook snaps into action. Just as the tip of his limb touches your laptop, ready to watch as many instructional videos as possible, you come strolling into the living room.

Jungkook can’t even play it off, he’s got one tentacle stretched over the entire length of the living room.

“What are those for?” you ask curiously, casually stepping over his extended arm on your way over to him.

Jungkook sighs, slowly retracting his limb until he can feel it slide naturally beneath the skin of his back. He wonders if his markings are that shade of pink again, the one that makes you kiss him and coo at him. “Felicitations on your Christmas,” he murmurs, handing you the bouquet of half dead, half frozen flowers. Your mouth forms a little circle, surprise and confusion painting your features. Jungkook hopes you are not as disappointed as he is in his atrocious attempt at gift giving.

But Jungkook should know better; your Human heart is nothing like his. You’re not raised on perfection like he is, don’t even think there is such a thing as ‘the perfect gift.’ The flowers are taken from his trembling hands, clutched to your chest dreamily. “Did you pick these?” you sigh dreamily, gazing down at the dead bouquet like it’s the most beautiful thing in the universe.

Jungkook doesn’t understand. Maybe it’s better this way. “Merry Christmas to you, too,” you beam, on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his lips. “I love them.”

And he loves you.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #mine #explorerdrabs

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7spaceace7 · 3 years

Text

Ego Holiday Headcanons

Haven’t decided if I’ll make more after this, but here’s some festive headcanons for the Septic boys! (tagging as Yuletube for my submission for the past two missed days, hope that’s alright!)

Henrik Von Schneeplestein

-The host of the Septic Ego Holiday Celebration (est. 2017)

-STRESSED

-If he wasn’t stressed enough by being a doctor (and parent lmao), HE IS NOW

-Getting all the egos together for the holidays and making sure they DON’T kill each other?? Someone give this man an award

-Everyone keeping their limbs would be his only Christmas wish

-He does not get said Christmas wish (see: Robbie)

-Switches up his black coffee for coffee with peppermint creamer

-Chase eventually hooks him on peppermint tea instead, he knows the Doc needs sleep

-Can be found humming along to the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy as he cooks holiday dinner

-Definitely has a “kiss the cook” apron

-Chase crossed out the “the” on it with “zhe” in sharpie

-Day 5, Schneep still hasn’t noticed

-Loves it, but still wears his doctor coat on top of it

-Gets very cold easily, so the fire is always burning

-Has a nutcracker collection

-It’s getting out of hand

Chase Brody

-Holidays are,,, hard for him

-Still sends his kids cards and presents, never actually knowing if they get them or not

-They do, I promise

-Wasn’t originally keen on celebrating with everyone, he has a tendency to self-isolate

-But once he gets there, he’s glad he did

-IMMEDIATELY tackled in a hug from Jackie

-”YOU’RE HERE!! Couldn’t start without you, dude!”

-Everyone else smiles and gives the appropriate hug

-(Anti does not, but no eye roll this time at least)

-Absolutely loves warm apple cider and has a good recipe to make his own

-Favorite Christmas movie is Elf, no I do not take criticism

-Has a soft spot for Mickey’s Once Upon A Christmas though because of his kids

-Holiday puns, you CANNOT get this man to shut up with the puns

- “Where’s Anti?” “Up to SNOW good! There’s SNOW way we can REIN him in now!”

-Once it snows, this boy is sledding down every hill in SIGHT

-Teaches Robbie how to catch snowflakes on his tongue

-Marvin makes him a “World’s Best Dad” sweater

-He totally cries and does not take it off the rest of the season

Jackieboy Man

-Christmas is his favorite holiday

-Good luck getting him to sit still around this time

-Has super strength, so he doesn’t quite have the same “don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself” factor that everyone else does??

-Nearly giving Henrik a heart attack everytime he moves, but make it Festive™

-”Guys it’s snowing!!” “JACKIE GET ZHE FAHK OFF ZHE RAILING”

-Slides down the stairs anyway

-Marvin made him a whole ass “ugly supersuit” instead of just a sweater

-It is a w f u l, but on purpose

-Ofc Jackie adores the shit out of it

-Loves snowball fights!

-Always gets targeted by Anti tho

-Eventually it turns into a snowball war

-Pulls Chase over to tag team him, then discovers Marvin has an alliance with Anti

-They will be here a while

-Time to break out the reindeer-themed boxers

-They go along perfectly with his red and blue sweater-suit

-Eventually able to settle down when it gets dark out, bonus points if there’s hot chocolate involved (courtesy of JJ)

-Don’t forget the marshmallows

-Wants to help everybody out with their plans, always does his best

-Even if his best includes falling off a roof

Marvin the Magnificent

-Made everyone sweaters, even Anti

-Spent too much time on the design parts to make em perfect, so he had to rush getting them all sewn

-Uses his magic to sew like three at once

-December 1st, 12:00am is when the Christmas music starts

-Mariah Carey impressions that slowly get higher as the month goes on

-Performs a “Let It Go” rendition that could rival Idina’s during christmas karaoke night

-Switches his regular mask for his holiday one with snowflakes instead of card suits on it

-The decorating master, with JJ as his apprentice

-Favorite part is designing for the lights outside

-Learned a spell to make it look like it’s snowing inside

-Forgot to learn the spell to make it stop snowing inside

-Ended up just sticking with those paper snowflakes dangling on the ceiling

-Asks Jackie for help with the lights on the roof, not because he can’t easily do it himself, he just knows that Jackie likes to help and this is the one thing he knows he can’t break

-Did not expect Jackie to break himself by falling off the roof instead

-Ends up finishing the lights with his magic anyway (after he untangles his boyfriend from the lights, that is)

-Can and will destroy Jackie during snowball fights just because he can

Jameson Jackson

-THIS BOY oh this boy

-Brings out the classic holiday music and sets it up on the gramophone

-LOVES making up dances to the music

-May be a classic boy, but his guilty pleasure is Michael Buble

-(Robbie calls him bubbles whenever he comes on)

-Goes ALL OUT with the holiday baking

-Cookies of all kinds, homemade gingerbread for the houses, so many pies, even learns how to bake his own bread

-Everyone agrees that his pumpkin bread is the best

-Anti especially loves the cherry pie for “aesthetic purposes”

-Has a whole “Twas the Night Before Christmas” puppet show routine

-His job is making the decorations while Marvin sets them all up, it’s a great dynamic

-Definitely makes those traditional popcorn garlands for the tree

-for some reason puts an orange in his stocking?? The others are confused, but he’s so excited so they just let him do his thing

-Now everyone has oranges in their stockings

-They still don’t know what it means

Antisepticeye

-Die Hard is a Christmas movie, dammit!

- “Grinch Bitch” is what his sweater from Marvin says

-Secretly likes it, but fuck off

-Wears it to sleep every night in Winter

-You know that thing where cats get under Christmas trees and swat at the ornaments? Yeah that’s him

-Loves the white elephant gift game

-Ends up getting a present and it’s a turtle

-His name is knives

-KING OF SNOWBALL FIGHTS

-Fills his snowballs with fake blood so they explode on people

- (at least we hope its fake)

-If it doesn’t snow enough, he is the bitch who throws water balloons instead

-Henrik still has work leading up to Christmas, so Anti listens to him rant when he gets home

-Christmas patients are fuckin crazy and he loves it

-One time fell asleep and woke up with a red nose and antlers

-Chase was never safe after that

-Kept the antlers though, they jingle

-Saved them all from Chase’s puns that day

- “Where’s Anti?” *distant, staticky jingling* “Ah there he is”

Robbie the Zombie

-LIGHTS...pretty lights…

-He loves the lights, and will try to eat them if you’re not careful

-Says they’re static candy

-Doesn’t get cold because he can’t feel it, so he often wanders around in the snow

-One time he came home without his left foot and Schneep nearly had a heart attack

-Turns out it froze in the snow and snapped off his leg

-The Great Foot Search Party of 2020

-Please don’t forget to bundle this boy up before going out

-Anti has knitted him a hat and scarf for just this reason

-Henrik was the Proudest Dad that day

-Totally gets to put the star on the Christmas tree every year

-Marvin levitates him high enough

-Favorite holiday movie is The Polar Express

-One time JJ came out with his signature hot cocoa during the movie scene and Robbie was THRILLED

-Talking almost knocked him over thrilled

-Tries to sing along to holiday music, the lyrics don’t work out much

-Really good at keeping a beat though

-Marvin made him a sweater with bells on it

-Adores the bells, flaps the too long sleeves to make them jingle

Shawn Flynn

-Likes Christmas, but like lowkey

-He’s a toymaker!!! He makes adorable toys for all the egos as their presents from him!!

-Didn’t really have a family to go back to in his days at Joey Drew Studios, so he was used to spending Christmas alone, usually working

-NOT ANYMORE!

-Now he has Too Much Family (but in the good way)

-Absolutely gets nicknamed Scrooge at first, probably because he really likes A Christmas Carol and he’s a grump

-Often can be found being pulled off to dance by the gramophone with JJ

-He’s got two left feet, but JJ doesn’t really care

-If anyone still believes in Santa, even just a little bit, it’s because of him

-Has a giant red sack that he fills up with toys he’s made and/or the ones no one could sell back at the studios and donates them to orphanages

-Usually sticks to his old timey clothes, but when he does wear modern Christmas attire like the sweaters, he has,,,no idea how to match things

-It’s ‘cause he’s red/green colorblind

-once asked why Marvin had “yellow” hair

-JJ makes sure that his decorations have lots of blues so it’s not so much strain on his eyes

#yuletube2020 #yuletube #jse egos #henrik von schneeplestein #chase brody #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #shawn flynn #jameson jackson #antisepticeye #my writing #prompt list #Headcanons

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blu-joons · 3 years

Text

A Christmas Proposal ~ Min Yoongi

Instantly his figure shrunk as the door opened and the gust of cool air hit you both, his hand gripped onto yours a little bit tighter as you gasped in delight, ignoring the cool breeze, enjoying the sounds of your feet crunching into the icy layer that had been left across the floor.

You pulled Yoongi out of the door, giggling at his mundane expression, using your spare hand to tug his beanie further onto his head to try and warm him up.

“Are you sure we couldn’t find a warmer day to do this?” He questioned, but your head shook.

Very little could excite you more than walks in the winter, the sounds, the feel, the aesthetics, everything fell perfectly into place for your favourite time of year. Whilst Yoongi was a little more reluctant, it never stopped him from walking by your side, treasuring all the little memories that the two of you made together.

“I really want to show you my place,” you told him, pulling him away from your parent’s home, onwards into the woodland that was only a brisk walk down the road.

This Christmas marked your first with Yoongi visiting your family, after many spent together at home in Seoul, and last year enjoying time in Daegu, you were beyond excited to introduce him into your world and show him all of your traditions.

“It’s a lot colder here than it is at home,” he whispered from beside you, tightly holding onto your gloved hand, you stared down at the hold that he had, noting the turn in colour of his pale hand, matching that of the beanie you wore on your head.

“When I told you that you’d need gloves, I really wasn’t joking.”

You’d spent most of the week before your trip repacking Yoongi’s suitcase to suit the weather, he was used to warm summer sunshine, tees, and shorts, but this holiday was far too different.

He was relieved to stop as the two of you reached the woodland, sitting down on a large log that sat in the middle of a forest of trees. Your legs stretched out, wiggling them around to generate a bit of heat and warm yourself up.

With your hands, you moved up and down along Yoongi’s hands trying to bring the natural colour back to them, pinching against his cheeks to hide the blush that was blossoming.

“I used to come here all the time as a child,” you told him, taking a good look around.

Times were usually spent here when they were much simpler, when all you had to worry about what was time you had to be home for dinner, or how much snow it would take to finish the snowman you and your friends had spent hours building.

“We used to sit and make snow angels and snowmen, these logs used to be our barriers for our snowball fights, where you’re sitting now, I fell from there once after a snowball hit me too hard,” you reminisced, hearing his sniggers from beside you.

He could picture you perfectly, Christmas had always been your favourite time of year, even as an adult he’d learnt how important memories were for you over the festive period and how much you enjoyed messing around and having fun.

“On Christmas morning we’d all meet here in between opening presents and having Christmas dinner, mum got annoyed with me once because I lost the teddy she’d just bought me whilst I was trying to catch a snowflake,” you added.

“It’s beautiful here,” his voice whispered, his hand intertwining with yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Perhaps it wasn’t like the old times, just like you your friends had moved on and found new places to call home, but bringing Yoongi into one of your favourite spots made you feel like a child all over again.

“We could still do all those things you used to do,” he suddenly added, pulling your arm down so you both fell to the ground, laying side by side.

Both your heads tilted to meet each other’s eyes; giggles erupted as you both tried to ignore the tingle of the cold floor that captured both your bodies.

You watched as Yoongi moved aside from you, stretching his limbs out and beginning to move them left and right. The layer of snow that remained was minimal from the fall late last evening, but that wasn’t enough to stop him trying to make you laugh.

And laugh you did.

You’d never seen Yoongi so festive, usually whenever the two of you spotted people in the snow, his eyes would roll and little mutters would escape from under his breath, but this year he carried a genuine smile and a thrill for the winter season.

It wasn’t long before you joined in beside him, huffing every time your arm bumped into his as you fought to create the biggest snow angels possible.

The two of you soon found yourselves lost in your own little worlds, forgetting about all the stresses allowing yourselves to enjoy the escapism being lost from everything else in the world bought you.

“I’m exhausted,” his voice chuckled, grabbing hold of your hand to stop you as he did.

You nodded in agreement, “let’s have a look,” you smiled, carefully standing yourself up, stepping back to look at the shapes the two of you had created.

Neither were quite shaped like angels, but that didn’t stop the two of you loving them, your imprints were marked in the snow for as long as you wanted them to, it was a memory that would never fade.

“I’m glad you’ve embraced Christmas this year,” you smiled across to him, wrapping your arm around his waist, “I think you’ll enjoy all the things my family does, it’s a lot different from anything you’ve known in Seoul.”

“I’m excited too,” he smiled, leaning across to press a kiss to the top of your head, “I don’t know whether it’s this cold weather, or adventuring with you, but this icy heart might just be getting a little bit warmer.”

Your grin widened, jabbing against his chest, feeling the thick layers of his clothes, which you’d forcibly dressed him in. He knew now that he was thankful for your stubbornness in making sure that he dressed a little more appropriately.

“I’m honoured that you wanted to show me all your safe places too,” he continued, resting your frame against his chest, “all these places that make you who you are, and now I get to enjoy them too.”

“I knew you’d love it here.”

His head nodded, moving his hands into his pockets, smiling reassuringly at you as you watched closely, checking once again that he wasn’t too cold, preparing to scold him when the two of you got back to your parents.

Once you were sure he was fine, you turned back around, staring up at one of the trees, unable to hold back your giggle as you remembered one of your elder cousins getting stuck in the branch on Christmas Eve creating a rather chaotic couple of hours for your family.

Behind you, Yoongi took a step back, slowly lowering himself to the floor as he found what he searched for in his pockets.

“Y/N,” his voice whispered, capturing your attention.

You spun around at the call of your name, failing to see Yoongi at head height, finding him knelt in the snow, a diamond ring glistening back at you, held tightly in his cold hands.

“What are you doing,” you laughed, covering your mouth with your hand, “it’s cold, you can’t stay down there.”

“I’m fine,” he responded, taking your hand in his, “because I’m always fine when I’m with you. I always knew this holiday was going to be special, but I never imagined it would be magical. I’ve never liked Christmas really, but somehow you’ve made me fall in love with it, the same way you made me fall in love with you.”

Your heart pounded underneath your winter fleece, smirking at the ringlets of air that came off his cold breath as he spoke.

“I’ll never be able to find the words to thank you for coming into my life, but you’re my little miracle, and I never want you to leave. So, will you marry me?” He asked.

Immediately, your head nodded, slipping your glove off your hand, making room for him to slide the beautiful ring onto your finger, brushing his hand against your chilling skin.

Before you could take it in, you pulled Yoongi up from the ground, cautious of how it would be for him, bundling him into your arms. “I love you,” you whispered into his ear, nuzzling yourself tightly into the crook of his neck.

His arms snaked around your waist, pressing a soft kiss into the side of your face, “I love you too, thank you for saying yes.”

“As if I could ever say no to you,” you chuckled, watching your glove slip out of your hold, daintily falling into the mark of his winter boot. “This is one more memory this place will hold dear to my heart.”

“This can be our special place from now on, forever, just like us.”

---

Masterlist

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marmotish · 3 years

Text

🎄👻 Duncan Christmas SQ 👻🎄

Part 3. The Crossing

(~2500 words under the cut)

The bus ride down to Cairnryan was awkwardly silent, with neither Duncan nor Freyja really ready or willing to discuss what had happened. Less awkward than actually speaking to each other though, from an outsider’s perspective.

Not a word was spoken until they had boarded the ferry, with the exception of Duncan hissing “one ticket!” when Freyja initially asked for two at the port.

With most passengers choosing to enjoy the onboard amenities, it was reasonably empty up on deck. No surprise though, given it was late December. The winds coming off the water were chilly to say the least, and the overcast sky did nothing to improve the scenery. But they would have to speak eventually, and better it happen out in the open, away from a larger crowd. That was when Freyja decided it had been long enough avoiding the subject.

“So what was it like?”

“What?”

“When you were inside -“

“DON’T SAY IT.”

Freyja stopped talking, and returned to watching the ocean. Looked like the blunt approach wasn’t the best way to start. But the question was still hanging in the air, unanswered. It was now up to Duncan to resume the conversation. But when? Who knew. Minutes ticked by without another word being spoken.

Well, if he wanted to spend the next couple of hours in silence then that was fine. Nothing was stopping her from enjoying everything else the ferry had to offer. If she got moving now, she could -

“It was really quick, I don’t know...”

OK, forget that.

“I didn’t even know what was happening, but then everything kind of hit me at once. The smell of the street, the cold air on my face, the clothes on my body, the ground under my feet... well, your face and all...”

He hesitated, as though he might have said too much. Freyja waited for him to continue, watching his face carefully.

“It was almost like - being alive again.”

Well FUCK.

Freyja didn’t know how to respond to that. Duncan had always seemed more life-like, more alive than any of the other ghosts she knew. The way he moved through the world was reminiscent of a living person.

Not like Professor Binns, who acted like he didn’t even know he was dead. Quite the contrary, Duncan was more than aware of the fact that he was dead. That was just the problem.

Sure, he floated around like any other ghost, but it was little things that Freyja noticed while they were in Glasgow that kind of set him apart. He never took shortcuts through walls, he moved through the appropriate doorways and corridors. He stuck to moving along the sidewalk. He waved away car exhaust even though he couldn’t smell it. When it had started raining, he pulled up the hood of his cloak, even though he couldn’t get wet.

All these behavioural quirks told of someone who was trapped in an existence they didn’t want, who was instead trying to hang onto any threads of humanity, of a real existence. But pretend as much as he like, he would never be able to replicate the feeling of really being alive. And he had never come closer to being alive than for the few seconds he had taken over Freyja’s body.

Choosing the blunt approach again, Freyja broke the silence with another question.

“Would you do it again if you had the chance?”

“What?!”

Duncan leapt back, putting plenty of space between them. Freyja raised her eyebrows in question, waiting for a reply.

No, it was a terrible idea. As much as he wanted to feel almost alive again, he didn’t know if he would be able to handle it. He barely made it to 5 seconds before.

“You know,” Freyja shrugged her backpack off her shoulders. “I’ve been up for almost 30 hours straight, and I’m just now starting to feel it. I wouldn’t mind switching off for a bit.”

Duncan almost imperceptibly shook his head in confusion, watching as Freyja pulled out an impossibly large blanket and sets it on one of the boxy seats on the deck.

“Think I’ll have a rest. Might be my only chance before we reach the port.”

“Up here on deck? In the cold?”

“well I could sleep inside, but then you wouldn’t be able to smell the salt in the air, or feel the wind in your face. Anyhow, this blanket’s thick and heavy enough to keep you warm.”

“You keep saying ‘you’, but -“

Freyja settled down on the seat, pulling the blanket around her shoulders while Duncan hovered from a safe distance looking understandably perplexed.

“Though you’ll probably fall asleep before too long. If you were able to feel what my body felt before, then you’re going to feel tired too. Think of it like we’re 2 drivers of the same car, my body being the car obviously. If the car runs out of petrol, it doesn’t matter who’s driving. It’s not going anywhere.”

“JUST GET TO THE POINT.”

Freyja glared at him. “Oh NOW you want the blunt approach.” Rolling her eyes, she continued. ”Fine. I’m saying if you wanted to try the possession thing again, then that’s fine with me.”

OK. She really said it. He wasn’t really expecting her to.

But possessing someone just to fall asleep? What would be the point in that? Then again, it would be less intense than possessing a body that was being fuelled by pure adrenaline. Surely something like falling asleep should be enough for him to handle. God knows he was emotionally exhausted. Not being able to sleep and spending every moment with your own thoughts would be enough to exhaust anyone. Who knew that would also be the case after death?

“Why would you let me do that again?”

Duncan was wary. On one hand, he was tempted to take up the offer. But this didn’t seem to be an offer made from the goodness of her heart. From the past year, he’d come to realise that Freyja rarely did anything seemingly selfless without some kind of underlying motive. That or she was just bored, and he didn’t know which one worried him more.

Freyja shrugged. “Why not? Besides, I’m curious. I want to know if the theory about cars and drivers is right. I have two conditions though. One, that you get out before we hit port. Two, if you’re somehow able to cart my body around, don’t lose my blanket or any of my other stuff . That includes money. I’m on a budget.”

With that, Freyja dropped her backpack onto her lap and hugged her knees up towards her chin, enveloping herself in the blanket. She watched and waited for Duncan’s response.

He was grabbing at his own sleeves, unsure about what to do. It was strange to see him look so uncomfortable, and he was silent for so long that Freyja regretted ever making the offer.

“Hey, forget it-“

“I don’t even know if I can do it again.” Duncan started, rubbing his arm. “But - I want to try.

“Alright?”

“And I don’t want you watching me.”

Freyja nodded. “Fair enough.” She slumped a little further down on the seat and closed her eyes.

Duncan shut his eyes as well, and took an un-necessary deep breath. He took a moment to steel himself, then peeked out of one eye. Freyja’s eyes were still closed, but her legs were jiggling under the blanket. Impatience or anticipation? Hard to tell.

Screwing both eyes shut, he flew forward, meeting a sudden feeling of warmth followed by a shiver up his spine. Gasping, Duncan opened his eyes. He brushed a silver fringe out of his face. Seated in the deck chair now, he observed the world from this borrowed body. Steadying his breath, he closed his eyes, focusing on each new sense in turn.

Now, having spent more than a few moments in this body, he could also feel Freyja’s consciousness at the back of his mind, and it was slipping steadily towards sleep.

Well, she was right about two things. One, he could definitely feel the exhaustion from this body. It was a wonder she kept going this long. He could feel his eyelids drooping, try as he might to keep them open.

Two, this blanket was undoubtedly warm enough to keep out the winter chill. It was heavy though, weighing down on his body. Not that he minded, it was a comforting weight, like being held in a warm embrace.

He pulled the blanket up to his ears, slowly breathing in the salty sea breeze, feeling the gusts of winter wind across his face. Wrapping his arms around himself, he allowed the sounds of the sea to lull him to sleep.

---

The sounds of screaming (laughing?) children running across the deck jolted both Freyja and Duncan awake, with the latter being suddenly ejected from the former’s body, practically hurtling over the railing.

“Are we there?”

Duncan reeled himself back in on deck before taking a look ahead. “Not far off, the port’s further inland.”

“Ok, ok that’s good.” Freyja rubs sleep from her eyes, stretching herself out. “You have a good rest?”

Duncan turned his head sharply in Freyja’s direction, ready to catch any hint of mockery. But if she was being anything other than genuine, he couldn’t tell by her face. “it was fine.” He answered.

Freyja wandered over to the railing next to Duncan, carefully bundling up her blanket to avoid tripping. He waited for her to interrogate him about the possession, but she didn’t press further. She didn’t even look at him. Rather, she kept her gaze fixed on the water’s edge, taking in the sights. “Can’t wait to see the city.”

Again, Duncan tried to gauge Freyja’s tone. Was she being serious? Sure, a relatively neutral zone like the city centre was nice enough by comparison, but surely she knew the state of things once you ventured past the ring of steel. “You keep up with Muggle news, right?”

“If you’re talking about the situation over here, then yes, I’m aware.”

“I kept up with the news while I could, and I wrote to Gran while I was away as well. But I get the feeling she downplayed a lot of the stuff that happened when I wasn’t there.” Duncan shifted his gaze towards the approaching port. “Now I haven’t been able to write or keep up with the news since ... you know. But I can’t imagine things are much better than when I last came here.”

Freyja took a deep breath before answering. “It’s not the kind of thing that just blows over in a few years.”

“You know what was ironic though?” Duncan let out a mirthless laugh. “My parents told me it would be safer here with my Gran.”

Freyja frowned, but didn’t say anything. Duncan continued. “You know the First Wizarding War started not long after I was born? My family was scared shitless, and they didn’t even see the worst of the attacks, if you can imagine. Muggles were copping the worst of it at that time, and not just from the Death Eaters.”

Duncan’s jaw clenched, and he appeared to be gripping the railing tightly. “sometimes I don’t think my family ever stopped to consider what was happening outside their magical little bubble. Hell, they barely even paid attention to me until I started at Hogwarts. Then they saw that I could be a valuable, contributing member of the magical community.”

The children from before came running and laughing past them again, momentarily filling the silence that had fallen.

“Whether I was at home with my parents or with my Gran, it made no difference to me, safety-wise. There was no escaping what was happening out there. It’s funny - it all seemed so normal, I thought everyone’s childhood was like that. I guess if you never knew any different, you didn’t realise just how messed up it was. “

“By the time the Wizarding War ended, I was already at Hogwarts. I hadn’t been allowed to see Gran since First year. When we heard that You-Know-Who had been defeated, the first thing I did was run off to write a letter to my Gran telling her it was over. Asking if I could come over again.”

“But she said the same thing she’d been saying since I was 11. Not now, we’ll wait til it’s safer.” Duncan sniffed, his expression darkening. “It probably killed her to know that after all the effort she put into protecting me here, I died in a fucking explosion anyway...”

Oh God, things weren’t meant to get this heavy. Freyja had been silently pleading for him to stop talking. But it just kept coming, and she could say nothing. But what could she possibly have said? What input could she have given?

Like Jacob, Duncan’s childhood had been constantly shadowed by the War. Unlike Jacob however, Duncan was unfortunate enough to be caught between two different conflicts from two different worlds. It must have been confusing for him as a small child - not knowing where one finished and the other began.

Freyja racked her brains for something appropriate to say, when the arrival announcement sounded, alerting passengers to gather their belongings and prepare to disembark. Grateful for the interruption, she quickly moved back from the railing and started to fold up her blanket to pack it away.

She stopped mid-fold and ventured a look back at Duncan. He hadn’t moved from the rail, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

“Duncan, I -“

“Don’t bother hurting yourself trying to squeeze out an emotion, that’s not what I was going for.” Duncan turned to face her, his usual fed-up expression back in place. “But I do want to say that... I appreciate what you’re doing. I know Belfast isn’t exactly one of the top tourist destinations for Christmas right now.”

Freyja nodded in acknowledgment, continuing to pack up her blanket.

“Are you scared?” Duncan asked.

Her head snapped up, fixing Duncan with a stern gaze. She tightened the loops on her backpack with a little more force than necessary, and swung it over her shoulder. “An outsider walking into a decades-old sectarian conflict? Should I be scared?”

“Outsider or not makes no difference if you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. You’d be stupid to not be scared.”

Bristling, Freyja jammed her hands into her jacket pockets. She knew perfectly well that being from out of town wasn’t going to be her get-out-jail-free card. She knew that waving her wand around wasn’t going to be any help if she was outnumbered. But part of her just wanted to know if she could do this. A stupid, selfish, insecure part of herself. The same part that reared it’s ugly head when Jacob once again dismissed her as some sort of unnecessary baggage in the Portrait Vault last summer.

“And I know you’re not stupid. Bloody Ravenclaw, and all.”

“My stupidity runs deep, don’t let the blue and bronze fool you.” Freyja grimaced, studiously avoiding eye contact. “but I’m not so stupid to believe that this is going to be a walk in the park.”

The other passengers were filing past now, a more insistent cue for the two of them to get moving. It took two shoulder collisions to bring Freyja out of her reverie, and shake her head clear of nagging doubts. She looked up at Duncan and gave him a decisive nod.

“Come on. We’ll make sure the only one of us who gets back to Hogwarts dead is me, ok? There’s no way I’m sharing my bathroom with you for the rest of eternity.”

---

#hogwarts mystery #duncan ashe #hphm mc #freyja young #this one’s really long I’m so sorry 😂😂#it’s gets a little heavy #but this is where we start kinda getting into Duncan’s head and I didn’t want to cut more out #it’s a bit more comprehensive than my last two to be fair #probably the first thing I’ve uploaded where I’ve put more effort into the text than the pic #the next art I post will definitely be something a little more positive or silly #don’t shoot me I haven’t written this much since uni #Duncan SQ

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summonerscenarios · 3 years

Note

Since it's getting colder, could I get hcs to Hephaestus and whatever two other fire units you want reacting to Mc going "Wow! My hands are cold as hell :D, here feel" and without waiting they grab their warm hand hand with their ice cold freezing ones?

sdfghgfd god I always struggle with pick you own requests because I have to stop myself from just going ahead and picking my favs lmao. But this was too cute not to do!!! gotta love some fluffy scenarios. (Also you’re a way better person than I am when I do that I go for the cheek and neck cause the reactions are hilarious)

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Hephaestus

Coming to hang out with the crafters it’s hard to stay in one place - there’s so much stuff to get distracted by and so many things to pull your attention away (all of which you attempt to touch because why wouldn’t you? It’s fun to find out what they do!). Which is exactly why you find yourself wandering around the place, running all around the outside of the building and only occasionally dipping in to check up on the stuff that’s happening indoors before going back out to run around again. Musashi’s usually doing rounds around this time too (despite how little fighting the guild actually sees) so you end up hanging around him for a little bit on one of his checks before it gets too cold for your liking and you decide to take shelter back inside, teeth chattering from the lack of winter-appropriate attire as you head inside the main building.

By the time you’re back down into Hephaestus’ workshop you’re still chilly. You guess that because Heph (and Talos, by extension) has a naturally higher body heat than you he doesn’t notice just how chilly his workshop can get sometimes, especially during the winter months. You’re rubbing your hands together, bringing them up to your face to puff hot air at them in a bid to warm them up as you trot over to where Heph’s standing. He spins around to greet you, expression lighting up at the sight of you approaching him, but you beat him to the punch with a “Hey, Heph - check out how cold my hands are!” and proceed to reach down for his hands, taking one of them and cupping your hands around it.

You’re right about the difference in body temperature - it feels as though you’re holding a mini heater in your hands, though it’s not an overbearing warmth in the least, and you could almost swear that the skin gets just a little bit hotter than when you’d first grabbed his hands. The rush of added heat is just what you need, and you let out a blissful sigh as you feel the energy seeping back into your fingertips, fingers flexing free of the previous stiffness thanks to the weather.

See, at your comment of feeling cold, the first thing Heph wants to do is find something to warm you up - he’s not going to let you just stand there and freeze and would probably end up swaddling you in blankets until you felt warm again. But at the same time, he does not want you to let go of his hands at all (you can’t convince me he isn’t touch starved to high heaven - he’s desperate for affection but doesn’t wanna ask for it). So there’s a few seconds where he flounders, looking around and hoping to find at least a blanket or stray coat nearby for you to wear; thankfully, Talos is always nearby on hand, and upon spotting the scene unfolding comes in prepared. The android bursts into the moment with a fleece blanket in tow, and while Hephaestus is miffed at him for interrupting the moment it doesn’t last long as the blanket’s draped over your shoulders and you lift up the one side as you move one hand away, offering it to Heph and telling him to get under with you so he can warm up too. You’re sure that the flames on the side of his face burn brighter as he tentatively leans in so you can slide the other end of the blanket over his broad shoulders.

Jinn

Being able to stay warm no matter the weather, Jinn fares better during the winter months than some of the other teachers, which sometimes means that some of the outside lessons often get delegated for him to oversee and teach. And he love the opportunity! It gives him more time with his students and he gets to be a little more active in their education; though it seems as though his students are feeling the chilly turn in the weather a lot more than he is. When you come jogging back over to one of the benches for a quick drink break you’re rubbing your hands, cussing out the cold but too stubborn to make the trek all the way back inside to go put something warmer on as you drop onto one of the benches and make a move to look for your drink. When Mr. Jinn comes over to check on you, you can't help but note how he doesn’t even seem to be feeling the cold - especially because his usual outfit hasn’t changed (seriously, you think you’d freeze over if you tried to pull off his typical clothing style).

Jinn’s ridiculously warm thanks to being a smoke genie, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t just about jump when you grab his hand out of nowhere, grinning up at him as you exclaim “It’s so cold out my hands are like ice - here, feel em!”. He fumbles a bit over his next words, cutting them off with an awkward cough into his free hand as you squeeze his other one. By comparison to the heat radiating from his body you are significantly colder, which is what ends up turning his attention away from the fact that you’re grabbing his hand and focusing it onto the fact that you’re right - your hands are like ice.

Not wanting his student to get cold however, he ends up lending you his signature jacket to warm up with - after all, what good teacher would he be if he didn’t help you warm up when it was so chilly outside! His jacket’s surprisingly thick and insulated, so it warms you up in no time as soon as he slips it over your shoulders and lets you put your arms into the sleeves. Burying your hands into the pockets you burrow into the item of clothing and give Jinn a grateful smile as you thank him, and he swells with pride at the praise, his demeanor visibly brightening.

He’s so chuffed that he ends up letting you wear it for the rest of the class - even after the class, because by the time everyone heads back inside to go to their last lesson for the day the fact that you’re wearing his jacket has completely slipped his mind until Mr. Mononobe points out that he doesn’t have it with him. The two of you just about end up slamming into each other, as at the same time you’re on your way back to return it to him, Jinn’s rushing to retrieve it before the final bell; you narrowly avoid barreling into one another, but Jinn manages to catch the two of you before either of you fall. He’s still surprised to see that you’re wearing it, and almost doesn’t want to ask for it back because of how snug and content you look wearing it, but you end up sliding it off of you when you realize you’ve found him, offering him thanks for letting you borrow it as you hand it back to him.

Kyuma

Being cooped up inside for a while makes it easy to forget that everything is getting colder sometimes, which is exactly the case for you when you finally decide to go out and spend some time with Kyuma. Given how long it’s been since the two of you have last seen each other, Kyuma’s understandably looking forward to the meetup - you don’t get the chance to spend time together often, so when you’d gone out of your way to ask to hang out with him he’d been excited to take you up on the invitation. Kyuma’s more dressed for the occasion than you are, with him being bundled up with a jacket and David decked out in a fluffy scarf to keep warm; it makes you wish you’d came out in something warmer, but that thought soon goes to the back of your mind when the two of you start walking around together.

It’s only when the two of you stop looking around the shops for a quick break that you realize just how cold your hands are, as upon walking into the shopping centre the wave of warmth that hits you is enough to make your cheeks sting from the temperature change. You bring your hands up to rub your cheeks, only to pull them away upon feeling just how cold your hands are. Upon noticing your reaction, Kyuma turns to you and asks what’s wrong, perplexed by your reaction. In response you shrug and hold up your hands, commenting “Yeah, my hands are just cold as hell - here, feel how chilly they are!”

As soon as the words leave your mouth you reach down and grab Kyuma’s hand - he’s kept them stuffed into his pockets while you’ve been walking around together, so they’re warm to the touch the moment you slip your hand into his, and you immediately feel a little bit warmer from the contact. The second he feels the cold contrast in your hands he yelps at the frigid skin, instinctively moving to pull his hand away with a yell of “Ah, cold!” when he realizes that it’s your hand that’s holding his.

Kyuma flushes a little at the feeling, even more-so when you flash him a grin and say “See - freezing, right?”, completely oblivious that his reaction is from your boldness. Not trusting his words, Kyuma simply nods, but before you pull you hand away he, in a moment of courage, ends up tugging your hand, still intertwined with his, and slipping them back into his jacket pocket. The warmness of his hand holding yours alongside the warmth of the fabric already has you feeling less cold, but when you give Kyuma a inquisitive look he sputters out that like this he’d at least be able to help you warm up a little - if that’s okay, of course. He worries that maybe he shouldn’t have been so forward, but at the sight of you smiling, moving so that you’d be able to walk in stride alongside him that worry eases. This time, when the two of you continue walking it’s side-by-side, hands interlocked together as you dip between stalls and immerse yourselves back into the crowds.

#mechanicaltrickster #housamo #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo imagine #housamo headcanon #imagines #headcanons #hephaestus #housamo hephaestus #kamata crafters #housamo crafters #mr jinn #jinn #housamo jinn #kyuma #housamo kyuma #request #ask

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pyroclaststan · 3 years

Text

CW: body horror, gore, graphic depictions of injuries, Nanosurge event

The two of you had been running and you made it so far—you were going to get away, you were going to make it, but then Syrah started screaming.

She hit the ground flailing, howling, peeling apart. It was like her skin was disappearing from her limbs, and she kept yelling, pieces of her mouth starting to disappear, too.

There are no words you could ever use to describe the noise of someone gargling on blood and bile and those things as they ate through her lungs and chest and throat.

To describe the sight of your lifelong best friend sloughing apart and disappearing before your very eyes as she tries to scream and call out, only to be unmade.

In her final throws she reached out for you.

It hurt.

Now it feels like burning, and stinging, and itching all at once.

You cannot look away as the horror settles into you, freezing you in place. You watch as your left leg peeled, layer by layer, and eaten like the many before you—like the many around you.

It hurts, but you cannot scream, you cannot sob: you saw how they got into your best friend’s mouth that way. It ended quicker for her than the others but you do not want an end at all.

You kick the remnants of your leg in futility, as if to shake them off with sheer willpower as they eat their way closer. It’s all you can do. The swarm on you is multiplying; you see them like a hive of ants, now beginning to eat away at your fingers.

No one will be coming for you.

There is a chorus of screams a few yards away.

“NO!” a bloodcurdling howl of a voice echoes out.

It is the wretched, horrible scream of someone desperate out there, and your head whips around for the source despite your situation. Someone is close enough that they might see you—you might live.

Further across the field three—no, a body, just two—of the Rangers are gathered. One of them is actually not a Ranger at all but that vigilante you’ve seen, Sidestep, who is standing over the writhing form of Marshal Charge, hands out.

In the fields around you, you see the swarms of those creatures coalesce and gather, all stopping mid air before moving towards Sidestep, floating up and over their head like a rippling ball of shimmering black water. A river Styx of souless little creatures.

Looking down you realise that your leg is no longer being flayed by the microscopic monsters, flesh and bone gone like it was never there; your hands shake as you desperately peel off your shirt to tie around the stump, hoping through your panic it stems the bleeding as your adrenaline fades. You’ve never done anything like this before—your hands are shaking awfully. Blood loss and possible shock making you run cold.

In the few minutes more that follow the pause of those things, as you clutch what’s left of you, you hear more screams and the sounds of heavy footsteps: everyone left is being evacuated and before you know it Charge himself is beside you, scooping you into his arms before sprinting along with the crowds of survivors as if he weren’t screaming earlier. You were just close enough that he saw you; you clench his shoulders with your tremoring hands, unable to stop the tears that pour down your sweating skin. You’ve never known death this closely. You don’t know if your fear or relief is greater.

Surrounding the two of you are the desperate, the pleading, the injured, but you cannot tear your eyes away from their target to see all of them. Your hearing is muffled by a ringing of tinnitus, even as Charge hands you over to another person before running back to save others struggling out there. As all the heroes get to work while they have this new advantage.

You can’t stop watching Sidestep.

They stand there, alone, hands held to the sky as if to hold a barrier around the writhing mass of murderers. You think of the class last week: the Titan Atlas holding up the heavens. You see the way their arms and legs shake, muscles sure to be straining, their heavy breaths under their super-suit. There is no dramatic lighting or music to highlight their effort, this dire situation is all too real. They’re too close to those swarms but they don’t budge an inch, a hand coming to their head as they let out a bellow of pain.

The man holding you is trying to flee with you, but you can’t stop twisting in his arms—you need to see this: you need to witness what Sidestep is doing, what Sidestep has done. Someone needs to remember that they are alone amongst those… demons.

Others are watching too, crying, and after some time when Sidestep’s knee buckles and their hands fall to brace themself the entire crowd flinches as one. The swarm wavers looking like they might escape and spread again, but Sidestep’s hand quickly rises back up and they fall back into their synchronised swim. The terror is palpable, the air is thick, the smells of the dead nauseating in the breeze, but you all cannot stop watching. Even the reporters are keeping a silent vigil, unable to believe any of this.

A hero is saving you.

Time passes and you’ve all huddled together, taking care of each other, locating family, slipping out silent prayers. A nurse who was among the survivors has helped you with your leg so far: medical should be arriving soon, you won’t be saving that leg. You might have lost too much blood, or you will. She’s just waiting for the shock to set it now, holding your hand so you’re not alone through it.

But you don’t care because out there so many have lost more than you. Others are still fighting so you all don’t lose more, even now. And one is stemming the tide.

Charge is behind Sidestep as they keep on despite being brought to their knees and struggling, posted like a sentry but gripping his own arm, and you can almost make out the look of abject horror on his face as he watches the swarm hovering before them; small flickers of static arcs when the hive moves or breaks synchronisation.

Medical has arrived and you are being carted off to a rescue vehicle while containment is still on the way, but you still don’t look away—you can’t look away. It has been hours and they are shaking and they are struggling but they are holding. You burn that sight into the back of your head before the ambulance doors close. Your hero.

Your dream always ends there: you were gone before they’d collapsed. Before it was over.

———

Today is the anniversary of that awful day; the persistent nightmare that haunts even your days through all the scars. It’s hard to go outside most days, hard to watch the news and catch a glimpse of that silver woman that scares you so much. It’s hard to do much of anything that isn’t sitting locked in your workspace, building, tinkering, or fixing. But this day is an exception to all those great fears.

You stop by the florist with the modded hand: she remembers the day as well as you, sometimes the two of you talk about it while you work on her hand. She’s bundling up Syrah’s yearly bouquet, handpicking each flower by some meanings you’ve never gotten around to learning about them, stopping only to help a haggard looking man she also seems to know well with a bundle of white chrysanthemums. You can smell the alcohol on him from here, but that’s none of your business: today is a hard day for more people than you and Maritsa.

She tells you to give her love to your old friend; she never goes herself, no matter how much time passes. She lost too much to that nightmare—a wife, two kids, some family.

Your eyes linger on one of the few white chrysanthemums that man left behind, scratching the scar tissue buildup on your finger’s skin weave, something telling you to pick one of those up, too. Her garden hardy mums cost a lot but you know anything she grows in her greenhouse is well worth the price.

Heading out with your newspaper bouquet in hand, you fall into step with the Los Diablos crowds, easily able to pick out who in the crowd is headed the same way as you. You can see it in their heavy steps and weighted shoulders and you wonder if you show it, too.

The memorial isn’t a plot of headstones—too many were lost for that—but instead a large stone and steel wall, covered from one end to another with names and birthdays of victims. Flowers, candles, teddy bears, liquor, and photos rest on the ground here every year, and every year the crowd and offerings grow smaller. Everyone eager to forget.

You take your place in front of Syrah’s name, fingers sliding quietly against the stone that’s too cold for having sat in Diablos’ heat as long as it has. To your right you see Desiderio placing his usual marigolds—also from Maritsa’s—against the stone, then falling into prayers as he always does. The flowers in your hands begin to feel too heavy so you set them down, quietly sit in prayer with Desi, and hold each other once the tears that always come arrive.

It’s a small, distant family you’ve made out of this place and the only other people who could understand your loss; no matter how much time passes between gatherings you all know you have each other. But you cannot stay all day, lost in the memories: you have one more important stop to make.

At the gates of your destination a man in a grey hoodie and a larger man in a blue one passes you, and once again you are hit by a wave of booze. Looking after them, you notice the back of the smaller, hunched over one: it’s that man again, being escorted by someone you hope is his friend. A few moments more and you draw in a deep breathe, gathering resolve before heading in.

So here you are at yet another memorial. Not the memorial to that scarred, barren earth you pointedly avoid looking at but the memorial to the hero you’d lost, gone after another even that shook the city to its core before they ended it. The hero this entire city lost. The dark headstone that’s all that’s left of Sidestep.

The black and teal hoodie you’ve worn in over the years always feel likes the only thing appropriate to wear as you sit here, sitting before the looming stone in your usual spot, staring at the bundle of white flowers and the half-full beer can beside it. Chrysanthemums bundled up with Maritsa’s trademark twine. A smaller bunch of white lilies next to it, from somewhere else. That man’s modded friend maybe; you know the signs like you know the smell of the dead. All too well.

You scratch the phantom itch crawling along the former calf and thigh of your modded leg, unable to chase away the ghost of a life past. Unable to turn back the clock. Unable to say thank you.

You set your flowers down next to that man’s, hoping that he found peace in his visit here like you do. Hoping that someone’s there to help him through that event and its scars, too. You really hope that was a friend.

The picture of your masked hero is peeling from all the rain and heat, the flowers and offerings dwindling as folks try to forget those terrible events, but you remain. Year after year.

Living is the only thanks you can give them.

#the mischief scribbles #MC: Kingsley Chrysanta #(I mean—technically)#FH:R #I’m not really going to tag Ortega since this person wasn’t aware that it was him #Nanosurge #a FH:R NPC #pre-Rebirth #Fallen Hero: Rebirth #NPC: Ifama #hmm… don’t care for this one tbh

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Snow Storms and Winter Winds

Fandom: Original Character

Collection/Series: and bluebells gleamed on mountain wild

Pairing: James Tobias Moore (Original Character) x Female Teacher Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: G

Warnings: Mentions of hunting because this is 1896 and he’s an outdoorsman

Summary: When James goes to check on his horse, Brandy, during a snow storm the last person he expects to see is you nearly collapsed in the deep snow.

Notes: This is probably going to be one in a collection of stories because the idea of you being stuck now with James because of a snow storm presents an amazing opportunity for ideas.

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It is the height of winter in the woods, a whirling snowstorm has hit. So hard and so fast that each step he took felt like he was walking through a fast flowing river, the snow high on his legs, dragging at his steps. The snow could be vicious out here in the winter months, his cabin often got so much that he sometimes could not even leave the wood cabin to check on Brandy, his horse, he made sure to keep enough food and water out in case that ever happened. Being snowed in was a common occurrence during these months and every year he prepared ahead of schedule for the inevitable. He had gotten used to the inhospitable nature of the winter, the weather that sought to freeze him to death if he so much as lost his way.

James would call it beautiful if he could actually see the world around him. The storm was so bad that he could barely see two feet in front of him, let alone admire the powdery snow glistening on the branches of trees or the way the light gleamed. There was, at this point, little light, the storm was so heavy that the sun was blocked out by thick grey clouds and howling winds. The lantern he carried did little to illuminate his way. A warm glow that could barely penetrate the thick white snowfall.

He is bundled up warm. Heavy, thick fur coat, over layers of woollen jumpers. A knitted scarf wrapped tight around his neck and chin, hat pulled over his ears. It feels like it does little to keep him warm, but he’s only going to check on Brandy. One hand on the rope he’d attached the day previous from his front porch to the small stable he’d made for her. He knew better than to trust himself not to get turned around or lost in the short journey at the height of winter. Storms like this could be deadly. So he carefully follows the rope, letting it guide him to her. The doors are heavy in the cold, the hinges freezing over slowly, the metal detesting his request to move. But he makes his way inside and for a moment he can breathe, the snow is no longer whipping at his face and he can see his large shire shifting in her stall, unhappy with the noises outside.

He makes sure she has warm blankets, enough hay, water and feed to last her a few days in case he can’t get out again. He gives the hefty shire a gentle pat on the neck and a soothing word, knowing she wasn’t a fan of the howling winds. He knows she dislikes being left alone, but he cannot stay out here, the weather too cold, he’d freeze overnight. As he leaves the stable, locking the door up tight to make sure Brandy doesn’t wander off in the storm or worse a wolf or bear finds its way in, he doesn’t expect to see a figure shivering and hunching in on itself on the road nearby. They look half dead already, barely able to lift a foot to move forward.

Anyone out in this storm has a death wish and he grumbles to himself knowing that he can’t just leave them there, it would weigh heavy on his conscience, so he leaves the rope, the path he’d made for himself and trudges through the snow. Knowing that he could easily get turned around trying to help them and lose his own way. End up dead from exposure right outside his own front door. He lifts one arm up above his eyes to shield them from the snow. He decides that if he does die out here with this stranger then he’ll make their afterlife a living hell for being such an idiot and wandering about in a snowstorm during winter’s height.

His burning annoyance and grumbling fades to rampant concern and worry when he realises it’s not just some fool out in the storm, but you. He’d recognise your hair piled high on your head, the shape of your cheeks, the blue coat you favoured so much, anywhere. It chills him more than the storm to see you begin to collapse to your knees, legs no longer able to hold you up in the storm. You’re frozen to the bone and he feels a strike of fear hit him so strong he almost collapses himself. He knows the winter is deadly, he knows your coat is not fit for a winter storm and he has no idea how long you’ve been wandering out here for.

He picks up the pace, forcing his legs to move faster as he all but jumps through the high snow towards you. He doesn’t know why you’d be out this far from town, especially in this weather but suddenly it doesn’t matter so much as getting you inside his cabin and warm. He can ask you later, when you’re safe and well, it matters little when you’re barely moving in the high snow drifts.

“Miss Y/N! Darlin’, what the hell are you doin’ out here?” His voice has taken on an urgency he isn’t used to as he crouches next to you, taking in the way you shiver. Your eyes are barely open. You can’t seem to answer him, your teeth chattering so harshly that he’s worried you might break your teeth. You’re ice cold when he takes a glove off to touch it to your cheek and snow clings to your hair and eyelashes like little icicles. James makes a quick decision and pushes through the weariness that his own body feels at the cold and reaches down, an arm underneath your legs as he lifts you into his arms. It is hard enough walking on his own through the high snow, but you can barely walk and he knows you need to get inside and slowly begin to warm back up. You are not light, especially not in your many layers and with the added difficulty of fighting through the snow, but he doesn’t care much for the burn in his arms or the strain in his legs, it’s not his main focus as he keeps his eyes ahead, in the direction he came from.

He finds the rope again and follows it to his front door, the snow is getting higher and he knows once you’re inside and the door is closed, you’re likely to be stuck that way. The snow is laying thick and high and he wouldn’t be surprised if the two of you found yourselves snowed in, but that he can deal with. The involuntary shivers that shake your body so hard he instinctively pulls you tighter against his broad chest are more of a concern for him and something that makes him feel in over his head. He is not a doctor, nor is he experienced in tending to others. He hasn’t ever really had to. He’s lived a lonely existence after all.

He practically barrels through the front door, shoulder first, it bangs shut after him, but he’s not concerned about the possible dent in his wall as he sets you on the sofa in front of the fire that’s still going. Your clothes are soaked from the strength of the snow outside and he fights against everything his mother ever taught him about politeness, knowing that you needed dry clothes and not your soaked skirt and coat. All your layers are heavy with water, cold and damp, and entirely unhealthy for you to stay in.

He hunts through his wardrobe for a spare undershirt and a comfortable union suit that he knows will be much too long for you, but that is dry and comfortable and will keep your modesty intact once changed. He tries to remind himself that he isn’t being lecherous or improper, you’re freezing, most likely hypothermic and if he doesn’t get you warmed up slowly you might not wake back up. He still feels the tell tale warmth that flushes his cheeks, ears, and neck as he carefully peels your clothes off, placing the sopping wet ones on the floor by the fire. He does his best not to look at the exposed skin, but simply look at your face or over your shoulder at the fabric of the settee as he gets you redressed as quickly as possible in the dry clothes he has found. They’re much too long on your arms and legs and he has to look to get you in them at points, but despite the discomfort he feels at doing something that feels too intimate for mere acquaintances, potentially friends, he is relieved to get you in something dry and warm. Your skin is far too cold for his liking and the sooner some warmth returns to you the sooner he’ll be able to breathe.

He tries not to think too hard about the corset on his floor or the various clothing pieces, or the skin that he’d been privy to. It’s not appropriate and he can almost hear his late mother’s voice berating him, at the same time he knows he has to do it. For your health, your safety. He pushes the discomfort aside, hanging the wet clothes over a rack near the hearth to dry, before searching through a chest for his spare blankets.

He wraps you in them carefully, making sure each finger and toe is covered. He doesn’t want to place you in a warm bath or too close to the fire, he’s worried about warming you too quickly, your body going into shock at the temperature change, so blankets will have to do. He presses the back of a freckled hand to your forehead, chilly still, but warming. The fact you’re beginning to make noise reassures him that you’re getting better and not in fact getting worse.

He knows only time will tell, so he leaves you there as he shrugs off his heavy coat, scarf and hat, hanging them on the hook by the door before working on dinner. He’s freezing himself, but now he’s inside the toasty air of his cabin he knows he’ll stop feeling the chill soon. Soup sounds nice, he thinks. He still has some fresh vegetables from before the weather suddenly turned and if you wake up later he can reheat some on the wood burning stove, enough to warm you inside and fill your stomach. Soup sounds nice. He thinks he might have some of the loaf that he made a few days past still, not quite as nice as when it was first made, but better. He decides he’ll save it for you, you’ll need the little pleasure more than him if you come to.

He looks back over at you every few minutes as he chops carrots, potatoes, leeks, squash. Making sure your chest is still rising, that you’re still breathing. He is still feeling that same panic deep in his chest, you’re not out of the proverbial woods and he is petrified that you might not make it out. He likes you. He doesn’t know you as well as he could after 2 years, but he likes you. You’re one of the few reasons he ever still goes into town. He enjoys your smile, your soft gentle nature, telling your students his stories while you watch with a raised eyebrow and a soft smile. He enjoys your company when he gets it and he enjoys you. It would be...it would be less than ideal for you to be bested by the weather and he would...he struggles to admit it to even himself but he would be devastated if you died.

The soup is boiling over the stove by the time you begin to truly move, you shift on his sofa, amongst the blankets. Little groans leave your throat and he’s hovering over you unsure what to do. Your face is scrunched, brow furrowed deeply and lips turned down, but you don’t open your eyes or speak, you just lie there clearly in discomfort. He tucks the blankets around you, making sure you’re still fully covered despite your shifting and with a sigh James sits on the floor, back against the foot of the sofa as he waits.

He was generally a loner, James didn’t tend to have visitors or enjoy the company of others. He preferred the company of animals, especially his horse Brandy, but there were a couple of exceptions to that rule.

One was children. Their curious nature, their bluntness, the innocent way they viewed the world, the curiosity they had of him rather than fear. He had a soft spot for them, they made him smile and he never felt out of place around them. Had he not been so nervous around others, he’d have liked his own brood by now...but women were generally intimidated by him. His scars, his stature, being so tall and so broad he knew he looked scary to most and his quiet nature and permanent frown did nothing to quell the fears of women in town, no matter how many times he was helpful or kind. He just seemed to scare them off.

Another exception to his rule was you. You had never been intimidated by him. The first time you’d met, he’d been lugging a whole stag over his shoulder to the butcher, a whole 200 kilos and you’d simply smiled at him and asked him if he’d been out hunting. He’d grunted something at you, unsure how to talk to someone so pretty because you were pretty. You’d seemed not to mind and your smile had widened when one of your students had latched onto his leg recognising him as ‘Uncle James’ even though he was most definitely not her uncle, rather he simply helped the family with firewood a few times a year. You had always been kind and gentle with him, over time the grunts turned into words and from words to full sentences and he found himself opening up to someone for the first time since his parents had passed on. He never realised how lonely he was until he regularly talked to you. He went from going into town maybe once every few weeks, to going multiple times a week, just to see you, always with an excuse. That he was fetching something from the general store or had a hide to deliver or some other errand to run. In truth he went to catch even a glimpse of you, of your soft smile and glowing nature.

“Ugh..” Everything hurts. That’s your first conscious thought, that every part of your body aches in a unique sort of way that’s hard to describe. Your skin feels like it’s covered in cold pins and needles. You feel both warm and cold at the same time, the sort of burning on your skin that only comes from sticking your hand in a pile of snow.

You're greeted by warm light when you finally blink your eyes open, trying to ease yourself up into a sitting position. A large warm pair of hands come to your shoulders and back, easing you up to prop you against some pillows. Your surroundings are cosy, wooden cabin walls, dark wood furniture, blankets, pillows. It’s homey and it eases some of your anxiety, even more so when the figure helping you to sit comes into view.

James Moore is knelt beside the sofa where you’re sitting, worried brown eyes flitting over your features. You feel instantly safe and secure, James has always made you feel that way. He is a unique sort of man, one who appears physically imposing, intimidating. Between his broad frame, the scars on his skin, over his eye, and the sheer size of him, he cuts an impressive figure. Always easy to spot in a crowd and often parting a crowd simply because people find him scary. You know better. He’s so incredibly gentle that it’s almost contradictory, that a man so gentle could be so large, that a man so intimidating could be so soft.

“Mr Moore?” There’s a blank in your memory. You remember leaving town, deciding to make the long walk out to see one of your students who had been sick. You wanted to make sure they were doing okay, especially as the weather was beginning to turn for the worst. Then you remember the snow coming down hard, by this point you were ages out from town and in the woods, little in the way of houses or shelter. You’d kept going, but changed direction knowing you were near James’ house, nearer to his than to your students, you’d made for his instead. Your memory is hazy after that, cold snow up to your knees, frozen toes in your shoes and a shiver so strong that it nearly knocked you over.

A warm freckled hand is pressed to your brow and James seems displeased with whatever he finds, pulling the blankets tighter over your shoulders.

“Nice to see you awake, Miss...I thought...well, it didn’t look so good there for a while.” It had been hours. He’d eaten his own dinner. The soup was cold on the stove top, the fire had been tended to, the sun had set, and the snow had piled so high that there was no way he was going to be able to open the door. You were officially snowed in. After the first few hours he’d worried you wouldn’t ever wake up. A deep relief fills him at the sight of your open eyes and the sound of your voice, he almost felt like he could cry. He wanted to hold you tight, but pulled the blankets around you instead. It wasn’t appropriate. You weren’t family or husband and wife. So he stopped himself.

“What...what happened?”

“I found ya out by the road, frozen to the bone. What the hell were you thinkin’ comin’ out in a snowstorm like this?” His voice raises just a fraction and the panic rings clear. You reach a shaky, tingling hand and grasp his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“...I was...I wanted to check on a student and I didn’t...I didn’t realise that a storm was going to hit. I...thank you, James.”

If it’s possible he feels himself tense more from the sound of his given name coming from your lips. You have always been supremely proper with him, you had never called him James. You always called him Mr Moore, always treated him with the perfect level of propriety and distance despite the warm smiles. Always so aware of where you stood as an unmarried woman and where he stood as an unmarried man. He likes the sound of his name on your lips, the way your voice seems to curl around each syllable.

“I...I was worried...Y/N.” He does you the courtesy of using your own name, the familiarity is unfamiliar to him and he can feel a flush high on his cheeks, coursing over his neck and rising to the tips of his ears at using your name. It shouldn’t spark a reaction in him, but it does because it’s you. Because there is no doubt in his mind that he has a great deal of affection, perhaps even love for you, after these 2 years of knowing you. Because your name is something sweet and soft in his mouth, because it feels like some sort of guilty pleasure to speak it. “You were near hypothermic, you...you could’a died, darlin’.”

You watch him quietly, knowing that he’s right. You had made a terribly stupid decision. You knew that winter storms always hit around this time of year, you knew how bad they could get and still you’d gone out on your own, ill equipped and unprepared. What made you feel guilty wasn’t that you’d done something potentially dangerous to yourself, but rather that you’d caused him to worry. James was a private person, his feelings were kept under lock and key, yet right now they were so plain to see and that they pulled at your heart. You had caused him unnecessary amounts of worry.

“You must be hungry, I’ll heat up some soup for you. I saved you some bread.” He’s lighting a match and setting the stove alight before you can protest, big cast iron pot of soup on top left to boil and heat as he finds out the loaf of bread, unwraps it from it’s coverings and slices it. He doesn’t scrimp on the bread, he doesn’t offer you one slice for your soup but damn near half a loaf and it is heart warming, the kindness, as he plates up your food on a wooden tray and gently places it in your lap. You don’t know this, but he has even picked out his nicest soup spoon, the one that just seems to make soup taste ten times better.

It is tasty and warms you from the inside. It should be uncomfortable having him watch you eat, but it’s not. You know he’s simply concerned for you, worried about your wellbeing, worried that you might keel over at any moment. He watches you to make sure you eat, that you are well, that you are truly getting better. You eat the soup and even the majority of the bread, he’d found a slab of butter, and there had never been anything more wonderful than buttery bread dipped into homemade soup. It’s domestic and you could get used to it, to James making you dinner and wrapping you in warm blankets, but it’s not that simple. You shouldn’t even be alone together, but you are. Everything about this is breaking the rules your mother always taught you, the rules you’re sure his mother taught him.

“James...I...how did I…” You gesture to the change of clothing, you had only noticed once the tray was removed from your lap and put aside to be tidied, that you were in fact not in your own clothes. You felt warmth fill your body, your cheeks felt like they were on fire. James’ own blushed a deep bright red, his freckles almost blending in. He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, biting into his bottom lip anxiously. His eyes don’t meet your own.

“I didn’t...I didn’t look, I just...you were freezin’ and I had...I had to change yer clothes. I’m...I’m sorry.”

“James…” Despite protest from your body, you rise onto stumbling and unsteady feet. He’s there in an instant, hands around your waist to hold you steady, your own fall onto those wide shoulders. “You don’t have to apologise. You’re probably the only reason I'm not dead right now...I trust you. I know you’d never do anything untoward. You’re a good man.”

“Still...it ain’t right. I’m not yer husband.” You wish he was. In that moment, you wish he was your husband because you know he’d be good to you. He would look after you, care for you, share the burdens of life with you. He’d never raise his voice at you, he’d never raise a hand. You know you’d have a good life with him, a happy life. You can see yourself falling in love with him. But, he’s right. He’s not your husband.

“No, you’re not. But I'd much rather you do the improper thing and save my life then leave me out in the snow to die. You have nothing to be sorry for. You have nothing to be guilty for. Do you understand me?” Your hands are cupping the sides of his face, thumbs brushing through the red of his beard as you tilt his face down to look at you. He is so much taller than you, that it would be easy for him to avoid looking at you, but you won’t have it. You force him to look upon you, to understand the sincerity of your words. That you hold nothing against him, that you don’t want him to feel guilty for helping you, for doing what had to be done.

“...Yes...I...I understand.” His voice is so quiet, like he’s talking in some reverent place, some holy space where raising his voice would be disrespectful. He can’t bring himself to talk louder, there is something about the way your eyes capture him, the awe which he feels filling his chest at your understanding, your touch. He...no one has touched him tenderly and with any sort of affection since his parents passed, it was something he didn’t realise he missed or needed until now. This moment where he’s leaning into your touch without realising, hoping you never pull away but knowing that at some point you will.

You don’t pull away. Not right away. Not even after a minute. You hold his face in your palms and stroke your thumbs over his skin, noting where it’s rough, the scratch of his beard, the scars, the many freckles that cover every inch of his skin. You know you should pull away, that would be polite, but you don’t want to. He is warm, human and so starved of touch that the way his eyes flutter closed has your heart aching in your chest.

“I...I should let you rest, Y/N…” His large palms encircle your wrists, enclosing them completely as he gently pulls your hands from his face. James hates that he has to, but you are a temptation to his morals, his own code of propriety and he needs to remove your touch from his skin before he does something truly improper.

“You're probably right…” You are truly exhausted. There is a shake in your bones that only comes from physical weakness after an ordeal. James is careful as he leads you by the arm towards the cabin’s bedroom.

He only has one bed and he will gladly give it up for you, knowing that you need it more than him and knowing that it is only polite to let you, his guest, take the bed. It is covered in knitted blankets and furs, so many layers that he’d prepared for the turning coldness. There’s a homeliness about this room too, something gentle, soft. Photographs line the walls, you presume they are of his parents and a younger version of himself.

“You can take the bed. I’ll sleep out on the sofa.” He doesn’t think twice about offering it up, he knows he’d toss and turn all night in his own bed if you didn’t take it. You are still unwell, still recovering from exposure to the elements and the thought of you on an old settee with just a few blankets sits uneasily with him.

“James…”

“Please. Ya need the bed more than me and I...I ain’t...I wouldn’t be able to rest if you were out on that settee.” You want to argue with him, but you’re exhausted and the bed looks warm and inviting. So you concede with a nod of your head and let him help you under the covers. Like some sort of mother hen, he tucks you in and makes sure you’re comfortable and places a glass of water by your bedside, turning down the oil lamp. You wonder if he’d do the same if you were married. Would he help you to bed and make sure you’re comfortable before locking up the house? Would he sit beside you and read his book into the late hours?

He fills the doorway, a dark silhouette, the light of the living area from behind him shrouding him in shadow. The bed is warm and cosy, each blanket weighs down on you, makes you feel secure, and your eyes are already beginning to blink closed.

“Goodnight, James…”

“G’night, Sweetheart.” He leaves you in darkness, pulling the door closed behind him and providing you with privacy. It’s that consideration, that desire to follow the rules, that endears you even more towards him. There are many men in the world, you know, who would take advantage of this opportunity. An isolated cabin, an unmarried woman alone and unchaperoned, a storm outside stopping anyone from venturing out. But, James is a good man. He is so utterly good that even the necessary acts, the things he does to help you, he is reluctant to do out of respect for you.

It’s the lingering drawl of his voice, the woodsy smell on his bed sheets, the ghost of a gentle but respectful touch that lulls you to sleep. You are safe here, with him. You know that without a doubt.

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

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@charradelange @belfry-bat

#and bluebells gleamed on mountain wild #james tobias moore x reader #james tobias moore #oc x reader #original character x reader #female reader #female identifying reader

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jaskierswolf · 4 years

Text

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt. 16/25

Previous __________________

It was mid-April when Geralt walked into the station, after dropping Ciri of at school, to find a huge banner hung in the breakout room. The word ‘INTERVENTION’ was scrawled in red paint across sheets of paper that had been stapled together.

Geralt almost turned tail and ran from the station.

He didn’t need a fucking intervention.

He was fine.

This was Vesemir’s fault for going on leave. Geralt was starting to wish he’d joined him. Vesemir had taken a trip to the coast, near Cintra, to go fishing. He’d asked Geralt if he wanted to go along but Geralt didn’t want to take Ciri out of school to go on a fishing trip that would most likely bore her to death. She was off school next week anyway, the start of the Beltane Holidays.

“Fuck off!” He snapped at his team mates as he shoved past them to the locker room to get changed.

“It’s for your own good, Geralt!” Eskel called after him.

Geralt muttered the words under his breath and scoffed. He was fine. Yes he’d been hurt when Jaskier had decided to practically ghost him out of the blue but really he should have expected it. Jaskier had said so many times that what they were doing was strictly on friendly terms. Not a single phone call or coffee date went by without Jaskier reminding Geralt of that fact.

He’d pushed too far.

He’d let his feelings get out of control and Jaskier had gone for a clean break. It was less messy that way. Geralt couldn’t begrudge him that.

The thing that was confusing him was Jaskier’s apparent reaction to the whole thing. Coën had spoken to him after school a couple of weeks ago and mentioned that Ciri thought that something was up with Jaskier. He’d tried to ring the teacher but he hadn’t picked up. Not that Geralt had really expected anything different, by that point Jaskier had been avoiding him for about three weeks.

He’d sent an email to check in with the teacher instead, noting that Ciri was worried about him. Jaskier should have appreciated Geralt’s efforts to make it about Ciri, but the reply he’d received was a curt assurance that the teacher was fine and that he was just tired, along with an apology to Ciri and a promise to hide it better in future.

Ciri had never mentioned it again so Geralt had assumed that Jaskier was alright.

Until that morning.

Jaskier was on morning playground duty this week.

And he looked like shit.

There was small selfish part of Geralt that desperately hoped that it was the break in their friendship that had caused such a change in the man.

He shook his head. Perhaps Eskel was right. He did need an intervention. He sighed as he finished changing into his uniform and strode back into the break room as he was pulling his hair back into a bun. “Fine. Go on.”

Renfri cackled and pulled the screen down on the wall that Vesemir used for training days. Lambert clicked the button on the projector and Geralt groaned as the picture slowly faded into view.

It was a picture of Jaskier, a headshot taken from the school’s website. Geralt knew that because he’d checked website earlier that morning to make sure he’d gotten the dates for the school holidays right.

It wasn’t his fault that he’d accidentally clicked on the staff page.

His fingers slipped.

The slide show was titled ‘how to get over your daughter’s teacher.”

“Very funny.” Geralt muttered under his breath.

Renfri wrapped her arms around his neck and then grinned as she twisted to ruffle his hair. “We only want what’s best for you Ger-Bear.”

“Get off.” He grumbled and tried to escape her grip. Once he’d finally ducked out of her arms he turned round to the team with what he hoped was a convincing smile. “I appreciate the concern but honestly I’m fine.”

“You look like someone shot Roach in front of you.” Eskel raised an eyebrow at him.

“And then forced you to eat her.” Lambert added.

Geralt grimaced. “Why am I friends with you?”

“I’m delightful.” Lambert smirked.

Geralt frowned, remembering a similar conversation he’d had before.

“What?!” Lambert groaned. “Seriously! What did I say?”

Eskel shrugged and Renfri watched Geralt suspiciously. “Geralt?”

He grunted.

“Please tell me that you’re not sulking because Lambert said something that Jaskier would say.” She put a hand on his shoulder but he didn’t meet her gaze.

He shrugged her off. “I’m fine.” He insisted and stalked into Vesemir’s office.

With the chief gone, Geralt had been asked to step up for the week and make sure all the piles of paperwork didn’t build up. It also meant that he got to hide out in the office away from the others which suited him just fine.

The projector had been turned off by the time he’d left his office for his morning tea break but in its place was a bundle of paper, printouts of the slides. He sighed and scooped them up before putting the kettle on. His friends were only trying to look out for him and he could admit, in the privacy of his own mind, that he’d been sulking. More than anything he was just pissed off at himself for letting his walls down, and he was angry that it was suddenly so much harder to rebuild them again. Why couldn’t they just snap back into place? He could go about his day with his job and his friends and his family.

Jaskier’s face was smiling up at him from the sheet of paper.

“Fuck!” He cursed and typed out a text to Coën, asking the teenager if he wouldn’t mind staying a little longer with Ciri this evening.

A few minutes later his phone beeped and he let out a breath of relief when he read that Coën had agreed to stay for an extra hour. He quickly replied to thank Coën. Honestly, the kid was a lifesaver. Geralt wouldn’t have been able to stay at work without him. He’d considered finding a way to work from home when Ciri had first arrived, he was pretty handy at DIY and there was a time where he’d thought about making a business out of restoring and fixing up damaged furniture, even odd jobs round people’s houses whilst Ciri was at school, working to his own schedule.

But the fire station was his home, they were his family.

He’d been too selfish to give that up and in the end it had worked out for the best. Ciri now had a family beyond Geralt which was important for the young girl who had lost everything.

He sighed as he finished his tea, it was still too hot and burnt the back of his throat but he didn’t mind. It was better than cold tea and he had work to do. The breaks always went too fast and the day always went too slow.

He avoided his colleagues for the rest of the day whenever possible, luckily for them it was a slow day and most of the call outs were false alarms. Eskel and Renfri had a tough call at a fatal car accident and they were pretty shaken for the rest of the day after that but the team banded together and they moved on.

They had to.

It was the job.

When the handful of full-time cats turned up for the nightshift, Geralt felt a prickle on anxiety tickle up his spine. He was exhausted and this had all seemed like a good idea at the beginning of the day when he still had hours to go.

But now.

Now he just wanted to fuck it all and go home to Ciri.

He ran through the handover quickly before escaping to his truck. He sat in his truck for at least five minutes, his head resting on the steering wheel before he swore under his breath.

“Fuck, Geralt. Get a grip!” He turned the key in the ignition and pulled out from the station.

He considered dropping into a petrol station on the way but decided that would be too cheesy.

Jaskier would probably like cheesy though.

But they weren’t dating and couldn’t be dating so cheesy was out of the question.

“I’m just making sure he’s alright. Friends do that.” Geralt grumbled at he drew up in front of the block of flats, thankfully not on fire this time.

He peered at the keypad at the front of the door looking for the right number.

5D.

That was seared into his mind forever more.

He took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer, ignoring the rising wave of panic in his chest. The building was not on fire and Jaskier was not in danger. He didn’t need to kick through the door. He wasn’t in uniform and there was no smoke billowing from the windows.

“Hello?” Jaskier’s voice crackled from the intercom.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked. “Can I come up?”

There was brief pause and Geralt stared at the keypad, willing for Jaskier’s voice to come out, as if staring at it would make it happen sooner.

“Fuck. Fine. Yes.” Jaskier sounded tired but the door buzzed and Geralt opened it before Jaskier could change his mind.

The lift would be too slow, he decided, so he ran up the stairs taking them two at a time. He slowed to a brisk walk as he walked through the corridor. It would be a bit much, even for him, to run down the corridor.

Jaskier was waiting for him, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

He looked… lifeless.

Geralt had never seen the teacher so flat before. He was normally brimming with life, dancing around with sparkling eyes, never really staying still.

“Jask.” Geralt breathed as their eyes met.

Jaskier frowned and looked away. “This is not appropriate, Geralt.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I know.”

“Why are you here, Geralt?” Jaskier asked, still looking at his feet.

Geralt desperately wished that the man would look at him. “Honestly?”

Jaskier huffed, sounding somewhat amused by the question. “Normally helps.”

Geralt swallowed. This was a terrible idea. He was not good at this, not good at finding the words that were enough. All the feelings swirling inside him like a storm. How could words ever be enough? Jaskier normally understood this and he’d gotten pretty good at translating Geralt’s hums and grunts in the past but now that wouldn’t be enough.

He needed words.

Jaskier needed words.

“Take your time.” Jaskier said quietly with a tilt of his and finally looked Geralt in the eyes.

Geralt felt the tension leave his body as he let himself get lost of the cornflower blue of Jaskier’s eyes. A weight he didn’t know he was carrying was lifted from his body.

He took a deep breath. “I.” He cut himself off with a growl. Why was this so hard? “I don’t understand.”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “You don’t understand what, Geralt?”

“We were friends.” Geralt tried to explain. “And then we weren’t.”

Jaskier sighed and moved from the doorway, gesturing for Geralt to follow him.

Geralt looked around the flat. It was good to replace the memories he had of the place. He took in all the details he could, Jaskier’s instrument collection propped up against the walls covered with a thin layer of dust, a thick soft looking rug underfoot and picture frames scattered all over the walls with no particular care of placement. The kitchen was small and led straight into the lounge area. Jaskier’s furniture was a mess of different styles but somehow he managed to make it work and Geralt couldn’t imagine it any differently.

“Drink?” Jaskier asked as he shuffled awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Geralt consider it but shook his head. “Fine thanks.”

“I’m going to have a glass a wine. Do you mind?” The teacher asked as he moved towards the kitchen. Geralt shook his head. “Good. Please, sit down.”

“Jaskier.” Geralt sighed in exasperation as the man flitted about the flat, but he did as he was told and perched on the edge of the sofa. He waited for Jaskier to come back into the living area, a large glass of red wine in hand. “Jaskier, what’s been going on?”

Jaskier was tapping his fingers against the glass nervously, glancing around the room and looking anywhere but at Geralt.

“It’s not your fault, Geralt.” He finally answered.

Geralt laughed. “I never said it was, now stop making this seem like a bad rom-com and answer the question, Jask.”

Jaskier giggled at that and the sound brightened the room considerably. “I suppose it was a bit like a bad rom-com, wasn’t it? It’s not you, Geralt, it’s me!” He laughed.

Geralt laughed with him and their eyes met once more. “Is this the part where I declare my undying love for you and beg you to take me back?” He teased.

Jaskier froze.

Fuck.

Too far.

Why did he always take the joke too far?

“Don’t joke about that, Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice wavered and there was something indescribable shining in his blue eyes.

Geralt furrowed his brow as he took in the teacher’s reaction.

The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.

Jaskier wanted that.

He wanted Geralt.

His body moved without his permission. He stood up and crossed the room in a heartbeat, his hands cupping Jaskier’s cheeks as he pulled the brunet into a kiss. It felt like all the air left him as their lips met. He hadn’t how much he had needed this, needed Jaskier. It wasn’t until Jaskier’s lips were on his that he realised the true depth of his feelings.

It was like the heat of fire after being caught in the middle of a blizzard. Hot, blistering and burning into his soul.

Jaskier whimpered against his lips and they both jumped apart at the sound of breaking glass. Red wine was running over the floor and soaking into the rug.

Jaskier glanced down at the mess of broken glass and back up at Geralt with wide eyes. They stared at each other, their breaths the only sound in the flat, before Jaskier lunged forward and captured Geralt’s lips in a bruising kiss. Geralt pulled Jaskier closer to him, after the distance between them the last few weeks he needed to feel the brunet pressed up close to his chest. Geralt’s hands drifting down to Jaskier’s ass. He smiled against Jaskier’s lips as the man squeaked when Geralt gripped his ass.

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined.

“Hmm?” He buried his nose in Jaskier’s neck and inhaled the soft chamomile scent.

Jaskier tugged at his hair and pulled him in for another kiss. Jaskier’s lips were cracked from where he’d been chewing on his bottom lip but Geralt couldn’t care less as he bumped his nose against Jaskier’s. It was messy, it was needy…

It was somehow still perfect.

They were lost up in the moment, caught up in each other as the world around the faded away.

All Geralt knew was Jaskier as their lips moved together, tongues dancing as the kiss deepened. It felt like Jaskier was reaching into his very soul. They broke apart, panting and gripping tightly onto each other’s shirts. Jaskier was first to catch his breath and he laughed as he pressed his forehead against Geralt’s.

“Well, that was…”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed.

“Not that I’m complaining or anything but…” Jaskier pulled back slightly and rested his hand on Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt couldn’t help but lean into his touch. It had been so long since he’d felt like this for anyone, since he’d allowed himself to be vulnerable. “I love you, Jask.”

Jaskier smiled sadly and pressed his lips to Geralt’s in a chaste kiss. “I love you too but…”

Geralt groaned and pulled away from the teacher. “Don’t say it.”

“We can’t.” Jaskier pouted. “Geralt you know we can’t. That’s why…”

“Why what?” Geralt snapped.

“It’s why I had to, you know. I couldn’t bear to be around you and not have you.” Jaskier stepped forward with a heartbreaking expression on his face.

Like Jaskier was begging Geralt to understand.

He didn’t.

“You could have had me, Jask. Fuck!” He yelled and spun around in frustration, his finger pinching the bridge of his nose. He counted a few beats in his head and sighed, turning back round to face Jaskier. “I’m not. I’m not good at this but I thought I was being pretty obvious.”

Jaskier’s face fell. “Oh dear heart.”

“Don’t.” Geralt growled. “Don’t kiss me like that and then tell me we can’t do this.”

“I’ve hurt you.” Jaskier sighed and sat down on the sofa. “I’m sorry, darling.”

Geralt down next to him, he couldn’t help it. He was drawn to Jaskier, even if he was angry at the teacher. Jaskier seemed to have the same problem. He rested his head on Geralt’s shoulder and his hands landed on Geralt’s legs.

“I didn’t come here to kiss you.” Geralt admitted.

Jaskier laughed. “Oh?”

“I just needed to know why you were avoiding me.” Geralt sighed as he laced their fingers together. “I couldn’t understand what I’d done wrong. I thought maybe I could apologise?”

Jaskier shifted next to him so that he was kneeling on the sofa facing Geralt, a hand on his cheek. “Dearest, you did nothing wrong.”

“Hmm.” Geralt replied, not believing Jaskier. Of course he’d done something wrong. There was no other reason for Jaskier to pull away from him so suddenly.

“I was scared, Geralt.” Jaskier admitted. “We have the board breathing down our necks at work, three teachers suspended for misconduct.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak but Jaskier’s finger on his lips stunned him to silence.

“Let me finish, dear.” Jaskier pleaded.

“Fine” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier’s finger.

“Good.” Jaskier bopped him on the nose and Geralt wrinkled it in surprise. “Three teachers suspended for misconduct,” He repeated, picking up his train of thought. “and then you came in with the lunchbox and well…” Jaskier trailed off and smiled dopily at Geralt. Geralt laughed and bumped his forehead against Jaskier’s gently. “Well, I realised that I was unreasonably in love with you.”

Geralt hummed and pulled him into a kiss. How was he supposed to resist the teacher when he said things like that?

He felt Jaskier’s smile against his lips as the brunet pushed back against his chest. “I wasn’t finished!”

Geralt smirked and tilted his head at the teacher.

“No. Stop it. Stop looking at me like that.” Jaskier pouted.

“I’m not looking at you like anything.” Geralt chuckled.

“Yes you are!” Jaskier poked him in the chest. “It’s all very…” He waved his hands in Geralt’s general direction. “distracting!”

“So you realised you were in love with me?” Geralt grinned, prompting the teacher to continue his story.

“Yes and,” He paused “then I remembered that we were supposed to just be friends and with teachers getting suspended left right and centre I just. I couldn’t risk it! I couldn’t do that to my kids, Geralt. I couldn’t do that to Ciri. She’s lost too much already.” Jaskier was staring at him with wide eyes and jutting out his bottom lip.

Geralt frowned at the words. “You did it for Ciri?”

How could he argue with that?

Jaskier was right. If he was suspended or fired because Geralt couldn’t control himself. Ciri would lose her teacher and she adored Jaskier. All of the buttercups did.

“I did it for all of my buttercups.” Jaskier amended. “Ciri included.”

“Fuck.” Geralt groaned and pressed his palm against his forehead.

“But I hated it, Geralt.” Jaskier shifted forward and took Geralt’s hands in his. “I missed you, Melitele knows I missed you. I missed the sound of your voice, I missed your laugh, I missed the way your lips quirk up in that little half smile.”

Geralt scowled. “I don’t do that.”

“You do.” Jaskier insisted. “and I missed your eyes. Gods, Geralt. Do you even know how beautiful they are?”

Geralt scoffed.

“Geralt!” Jaskier whined. “Beautiful.”

“Hmm.” Geralt rolled his eyes.

“I never wanted to hurt you.” Jaskier sighed. “Forgive me, darling.”

Geralt searched Jaskier’s eyes with his own, trying to find an answer to a question that he didn’t understand. He only knew that the answer was in Jaskier’s eyes. He tilted his head as he tried to comprehend what was really going on between them. They were fighting, but then they were kissing, and then fighting again. They couldn’t be more than friends but they loved each other but Jaskier could lose his job but the never-ending terms of endearment.

Was love always this fucking confusing?

He thought back to his relationship with Yennefer and decided it probably was.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asked quietly. “Please.”

He sighed, knowing he wasn’t able to answer the question yet. He didn’t have enough information to make the decision yet. “What happens next?”

“What?” Jaskier asked, his voice cracking.

“We can’t date, Jask. You were right. It wouldn’t be fair on the kids, on Ciri, if someone found out.” Geralt scowled.

Why did it feel like they were breaking up again before they even got started?

“I know.” The teacher sighed and buried his head in Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt instinctively moved his hand to thread his fingers through Jaskier’s soft hair. “It’s not fair.”

“No.” Geralt agreed. “It’s not. So what happens now?”

“I can’t pretend that I don’t love you, Geralt.” Jaskier moaned into his shirt.

Geralt laughed and gently pulled Jaskier up so he could see his face again. The brunet was pouting.

Gods, those lips would be the end of him.

He didn’t know what else to say so he did the only thing he could think of and kissed them.

Jaskier fell back onto the sofa and pulled Geralt on top of him. Geralt straddled Jaskier waist and he kissed him like his life depended on it. They wouldn’t have tomorrow, they only had today.

This moment.

This was it.

He couldn’t waste it.

He wouldn’t waste it. Not now that he had Jaskier in his arms, his lips captured by his own.

“Jaskier?” He asked, his voice a low growl. “Stop me.”

Jaskier laughed breathlessly, his face was flushed and his pupils were blown wide so there was only a slither of cornflower blue. “Like fuck I will. Shut up you brute and kiss me!”

So he did. ________

#the witcher #geraskier #you set my heart ablaze #geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #modern au #sorry this chapter is late!#wolfie's witcher writing

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half-bakedboy · 3 years

Text

quarantine is a lot sweeter with you on my screen (read on ao3)

Pairing: Alec Lightwood/Magnus Bane Rated: Gen Summary: “Daddy, look! Mr. Bane is at Timmy’s house and he already went to Becca’s and Christy’s and he said he’s dropping off treats for all of us!” If Alec wasn’t already in love with Magnus, he would have been at that. The kids had all missed seeing their teacher’s face in person and even through a terrible storm, Magnus was making a visit to each of their doorsteps with gifts.

Magnus was making a visit to each of their doorsteps.

Magnus was going to be at Alec’s home.

For @malecdiscordserver Prompt Advent Event

There were about a million other things Alec could picture himself doing on one of the snowiest days of the season. It might have only been the middle of December, but Alec worked from the safety of his living room and didn’t think he would have to go out in a storm this year. The snow dampened his hair and his fingers were tingling from the sudden onslaught of heat as his daughter, Lil, opened the door to the bakery just down the street.

“The Lightwoods!” The person behind the counter shouted, “I haven’t seen the pair of you in here since before the plague! How is my favorite girl doing?” Lil ran to the counter and jumped excitedly, but Alec rested his hands on her shoulders before she could touch everything in sight.

“Lil, remember what I’ve been teaching you. Hands to yourself and keep a safe distance,” Alec corrected as Lil pouted up at him.

“I know, daddy. I don’t wanna spread germs to Ms. Loss,” Lil resigned, still grinning widely at the baker. Catarina had always been kind to Lil and in the current state of the world, Alec was grateful for the few friendly people he was able to interact with.

“Have you guys been staying safe?” Catarina asked as Lil took a close look through the glass, eyeing every treat she had to choose from.

Alec nodded and said, “I’m working from home so this one can get her remote learning done. She’s pretty self-sufficient for her age so I feel pretty lucky.” He patted Lil’s hair who swatted his hand at the interruption. The adults both laughed as Lil stopped, her eyes widening over what must have been her favorite dessert.

“Daddy, this one! I want this one and Mr. Bane is going to die because it’s his favorite color,” Lil practically shrieked as she bounced on her tiptoes to point it out, careful to keep her finger away from the glass. Alec praised her for it as Catarina took the cupcake out of the display.

“Are you preparing for one of Magnus Bane’s infamous zoom parties?” Catarina asked. The second the name left her lips, Alec felt himself blush. He was grateful for the mask covering his cheeks so that it wasn’t too obvious, but Catarina seemed to take his pause into consideration.

“You know Mr. Bane?” Lil asked with wide eyes. Alec thought it was adorable how much she looked up to her second grade teacher. Couple that with the kind woman who made her delicious treats and Lil probably felt like she was the luckiest girl in the world.

Catarina nodded as she put the cupcake in a special box and said, “I do. He’s been my best friend for about as long as you’ve been alive!” Lil squealed at that, her eyes darting from Alec to Catarina in sheer excitement.

“That is so cool! Is Mr. Bane gonna throw an awesome party today? I was sad when we couldn’t have it in the classroom, but Mr. Bane said it’s gonna be just as fun on the computer and he had a surprise for us!” Alec laughed as he pulled out his wallet to pay Catarina for the cupcake. She winked at him and she threw in a few of his favorite cookies. Alec made sure to tip her extra well.

“Mr. Bane’s virtual parties are the best and you both are gonna have so much fun!” Catarina said, clapping her hands together as Lil did.

“I’ll probably just hang back and let Lil do her thing, you know?” Alec said bashfully as he took the bag from the counter. Catarina stared at him like she had known something he didn’t and the look frightened him only a little.

“I’m sure Magnus would love to see you, Alexander,” she said and Alec noticed it was the first time she had ever used his full name, the name that Magnus called him the few times they had spoken. He briefly wondered - and hoped - if Magnus had mentioned him before but brushed the thought away as quickly as it had come. That would be ridiculous and Alec was nothing if not completely sane and not in love with his kid’s teacher.

“Well,” Alec said as he cleared his throat, “we better head back before the snow gets too bad. Stay safe, okay?” Catarina nodded and saluted to them as they walked away, Lil waving an energetic hand behind her.

“Thank you, Ms. Loss! Stay healthy!” Lil yelled as Alec tugged her out the door. Catarina’s laughter chimed through the air until the door shut behind them, silencing the speck of brightness she gave them.

Unfortunately, that meant that all Alec could think about was seeing Mr. Bane - Magnus - once they arrived back home. He had planned to sneak into the room a few times, out of sight of the camera, to make sure that Lil was behaving appropriately during her party in order to avoid making himself look like a fool in front of Magnus as was inevitable. Social interaction was not Alec’s specialty pre-quarantine and his skills were bound to have dimmed when the only constant contact he had was with an 8-year-old.

Before he had much time to panic, Lil’s voice broke him from his thoughts as she sprinted forward to their door, shouting, “Daddy, hurry up!” He laughed softly as he reached the steps and unlocked the door.

“You’re getting too quick for your old man, kiddo,” Alec teased, running a hand through his hair to melt the snow that had gathered on it. He should have worn a hat but he didn’t think two blocks would accumulate this much of a headache. Lil giggled as she toed off her boots and hung her jacket, hat, and gloves up on the drying rack as if the simple task was a race.

“I’ve always been quicker than you,” she said simply, squealing and dodging Alec’s hands as he reached for her with a growl. She ran toward the dining room where Alec had set up her work station and started booting up her laptop. Alec leaned against the doorframe and watched her consideringly. When he was 8 years old, he could barely make a sandwich, let alone work a laptop. He was pretty impressed with how well she had transitioned into their new way of learning and was once again grateful for having such a bright and competent child.

“Can you tell me how much more time until your party?” Alec asked as Lil started the log in process. She glanced down at the corner of the screen and wrote down the time before consulting with her clock cheat sheet.

“10 minutes!” She squealed, running to Alec to grab the treat from his hand. He pulled it up quickly and raised his eyebrows and Lil knew exactly what that meant. “Can I please have my cupcake, daddy?” She asked sweetly with the puppy dog eyes Izzy had taught her to do at too young an age. Alec rolled his eyes playfully and took the cupcake box out of the bag, handing it to Lil slowly.

“Careful!” He shouted as she sprinted back to her desk. Lil waved him off, sitting on her hands as she waited for the video screen to load.

Alec left her to it, keeping a close ear on the screaming kids and smooth voice he instantly recognized as Magnus’. He sounded almost out of breath and Alec was instantly intrigued as to what could have caused it, so he peeked his head into the dining room to see Lil’s wide grin spreading further on her lips.

When she noticed her dad, she screamed, “Daddy, look! Mr. Bane is at Timmy’s house and he already went to Becca’s and Christy’s and he said he’s dropping off treats for all of us!” If Alec wasn’t already in love with Magnus, he would have been at that. The kids had all missed seeing their teacher’s face in person and even through a terrible storm, Magnus was making a visit to each of their doorsteps with gifts.

Magnus was making a visit to each of their doorsteps.

Magnus was going to be at Alec’s home.

Alec dashed toward the bathroom to make sure his hair wasn’t too messed up from the snowy trek he had taken earlier and sighed when he saw that it was somehow still damp. He ran his hands through it a few times and pretended that it made a lick of difference before patting his rosy cheeks with some warm water.

“He’s coming here next, daddy!” Lil yelled joyfully and when Alec exited the bathroom, she had already started her sprint to the door.

“Put on your mask, sweetie!” Alec said quickly as he grabbed his own from the table in the entryway. Lil threw open the front door and the cold blast of air was enough to have Alec glancing up, but his eyes stayed glued to the beautiful bundled up form that was Magnus.

He had never met the teacher in person but he looked exactly as Alec would have expected him to. His coat was knee length and looked more expensive than Alec’s entire wardrobe. The dark maroon color matched perfectly with black boots and the necessary winter accessories. Magnus didn’t have a hat on and Alec felt weirdly comforted that Magnus had made the same decision as he had earlier, except Magnus’ hair somehow still looked perfect. Alec thought it wasn’t fair how perfect Magnus looked even with half of his face covered by a black mask with a large smile painted on it. The parts of his face that could be seen had his usual makeup that was unsmudged through the inclement weather. If Alec hadn’t known any better, he would think Magnus was made of magic.

“Mr. Bane!” Lil shrieked, jumping up and down, using her small hand on the door handle as leverage. She was giggling and squealing and Alec couldn’t remember the last time he had seen her that happy. He placed his mask over his face and met her at the door as Magnus made his way up the stairs.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite smiling face,” Magnus said as he approached, careful to stay a step down as to not break social distancing rules. Alec was simultaneously impressed and disappointed by it. “I do hope you weren’t too busy enjoying your cupcake, Ms. Lightwood,” Magnus teased as he brought the small gift bag he was holding behind his back in front of him. Lil’s eyes seemed to shine as she reached out for it. When she realized her arms were just a bit too short, she glanced hopelessly back at her father.

Alec chuckled and said, “I got it, Lil,” as he stepped up and reached for the bag on his own. His eyes connected with Magnus’ and he had to tear them away from the golden ones that gleamed back at him.

“I put an extra something special in there for you, Alexander,” Magnus said with a wink, and once again, Alec thanked the current pandemic for his easily hideable blush that spread across his masked cheeks. He leaned down to look at Lil and said, “Thank you for being such a wonderful student during this crazy time, Lil. I’ve been so lucky to have you in my class and I hope you enjoy some time away from your boring old teacher during winter break.”

Lil gasped and said, “You’re not boring, Mr. Bane, you’re the best!” Alec could see Magnus’ grin widen in the way his eyes creased at the corners. Alec loved that Magnus smiled with his entire face and it warmed something inside of him even through the cold breeze of the storm.

“I think that title belongs to you, my dear,” Magnus said as he straightened. “Why don’t you go look through your treats while I talk to your father, yeah?” Lil nodded excitedly and went to turn, but stopped abruptly to look seriously back at Magnus.

“I know I can’t give you a hug, but I am giving you a mental hug and my daddy says that those still make a person feel warm and cozy. Do you feel warm and cozy?” Lil asked, widening her eyes at her teacher. Magnus’s visible features softened as he nodded back.

“I feel the warmest and coziest I’ve felt in weeks, Lil.”

As his daughter pranced back to her chair, Alec laughed and said, “You really made her day by coming here. I’m sure all the kids have been excited to see you.” He rocked back and forth on his feet, suddenly nervous to be left alone and in person with Magnus for the first time.

“They have been. I know this time has been difficult for the little ones so I wanted to give them as much joy as I could,” Magnus said as if it was simple. Alec had known that Magnus had always gone above and beyond for his students but walking the streets of New York in a blizzard was more than anyone had probably expected.

“I wish you would have let me know!” Alec said quickly, playing with his fingers anxiously. “I would’ve made you a cup of coffee to take with you or given you a gift of your own,” he added when Magnus looked at him in confusion.

Magnus chuckled and said, “Well, I got the gift of seeing my favorite student and I have to admit,” he paused as if considering his next words, “getting to finally lay my eyes on her handsome father in person was my own little treat for the day.” Alec’s blush darkened and he ran a hand through his hair before scratching at his scalp.

“What do you think about getting a socially distanced cup of coffee after you’re done for the day?” Alec asked quickly before he could change his mind. He was sure then that Magnus was at least interested in him and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity of a date with the teacher pass him by.

“I’ll meet you here at 3?” Magnus answered as he backed down the steps toward the car that awaited him. Alec nodded and waved, fully aware that the wide smile on his face couldn’t be hidden by his mask.

“It’s a date!” He shouted, just to make sure they were on the same page. When Magnus waved back, Alec closed the door and leaned against it, sighing happily.

“Daddy, look what Magnus got you!” Lil yelled as she ran into the entryway, a cookie in hand. Alec recognized it immediately; it was the same kind Catarina had snuck into their order a few hours prior and happened to be his favorite flavor.

There was a note stuck on the bag and as Alec read it, he smiled brightly and couldn’t help but laugh.

“What does it say?” Lil asked, standing on her tiptoes to try and read it. Alec decided to keep it to himself.

Alexander, Quarantine is a lot sweeter with you on my screen.

#malec #malec fic #shadowhunters #magnus bane #alec lightwood #magnus x alec #alec x magnus #my writing #mdsevent #this is so CHEESY #but i wanted to write quarantine fluff #and this is what you get #as;ldkfjals;df #I hope you like it #<3 <3 <3 <3

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nominnation · 3 years

Text

Of Fins and Tails

Pairing(s): Jaehyun x Doyoung

Synopsis: Doyoung has a rocky past. A dangerous and deadly past. One that haunts him because, try as he might, he can't escape it. Perhaps he should come clean about his past to his boyfriend. But what if he has passed the appropriate time to reveal such baggage?

How will Jaehyun feel when he finds out that the man he loves is far more complicated than any human?

Warnings: drowning, mentions of major character death, mentions of blood, secrets, supernatural beings.

Word Count: 5100

Author's Notes: This is the second fic in the Qian Manor series. It has been posted on ao3 and amino. I hope you enjoy!

Edit created by Sunny on NCT Amino

1723

Air drifted through an open porthole, chilling the occupants residing in the lower deck prison. A young man, Doyoung, who sat closest to the window, shivered thanks to his fagged and torn clothing that did little to protect him from the harsh environment. He drew his knees to his chest, rattling the freezing shackles locked around his ankles. He wrapped his arms around his knees in an attempt to capture warmth, the handcuffs tightly chained around his wrists restricting his movement. He curled himself into a small ball against the wall of the ship hull, head resting against the porthole bolted into the frame.

“Do you want a blanket?” a kind voice asked in a whisper.

Doyoung looked up to see a boy, no older than fourteen, offering him a smelly, rat-gnawed blanket. Doyoung would like the blanket. It wouldn’t be much, but it would be more than he had. However, as he glanced around the prison where he and fifteen other people had been forced into, he couldn’t bring himself to take the blanket. Mothers with young children were already struggling to keep them warm against the cold, half of them holding their children to their breasts with blue lips. He couldn’t accept a blanket for warmth when so many others were freezing. A blanket, torn or not, could mean the difference between life and death for some of them.

“Give it to someone else,” Doyoung answered.

As he spoke, another gust of wind blew through the porthole, immediately illiceting a shiver from him.

The boy gave him a sympathetic glance but nodded and turned to drape the blanket of a mother who held a bundled up two year old against her body. She smiled at the boy gratefully and snuggled into the blanket. It wasn’t much, but it’d keep her warm for a little longer.

“Who do these people think they are,” Doyoung mumbled to himself.

He must have been too loud, or perhaps he just had rotten luck, because a moment later, the metal door burst open and a bulky man wearing stained brown pants, a ripping white shirt, and a velvet red coat stormed in. He had a mop of long, greasy hair and a black pirate hat perched atop.

“I’d watch your mouth if I were you!” he sneered.

Doyoung couldn’t help but to roll his eyes at the man. It wasn’t their fault that they were in this situation and hated it. Most of them were there for no reason. Sure, some of them had been previous thieves, including the boy who’d offered him a blanket, but the rest of them? They were just random people in the wrong place at the wrong time. Doyoung amongst them.

“Why don’t you just let us go? We’re not animals. You can’t keep us caged up down here like animals!” he snapped.

He knew it was the wrong thing to say before he said it, but he couldn’t help it. He had held his tongue for long enough. These pirates had kept all of them down here until selling certain ones off to slave traders or until one of them died from hypothermia or malnourishment. He was sick of watching them die.

The pirate stepped into the room, a glare sharp across his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Doyoung saw a mother draw her child closer, protectively. He felt sorry for her. He had caused this with his mouth, but something had to be said.

“We can keep you here for as long as we see fit. No one even knows you rats are missing!” The pirate venomously tongued.

A growl made its way from Doyoung’s mouth.

“You’re a bunch of dirty rotten pirates and one day, you’ll pay for the torment you put these people through!” He yelled.

The second the words were out of his mouth, he knew he’d messed up. His eyes grew wide and he put his hands over his mouth.

“N-no! I didn’t-”

But the damage was already done. Before Doyoung could comprehend what was happening, a fist was colliding against his nose, knocking him back against the wall. As his head hit it, his jaw clenched and he bit down on his tongue. Blood pooled into his mouth, dripping down his jaw. He let out a loud whimper, but he didn’t have time to check the damage done to his tongue before his shackles were yanked. Pain sprouted through his body.

“Doyoung!” he heard someone yell.

“Shut up!” the captain yelled.

The sound of a body hitting the floor and Doyoung wanted to object. To tell them to let him get whatever brutal punishment awaited him, but he gurgled on his own blood, the thick liquid dripping down his throat.

It didn’t matter anyway. He was yanked from the prison faster than anyone else could intervene. As soon as he was out of the door, his head smacked against the metal frame and his vision tunneled before going black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sun beat down on his face, bringing a small smile to his face. Freedom. They must have set him free. Finally.

“Look at this! The boys’ smiling!” a wicked voice spoke near his head.

His eyes slowly cracked open, the first thing his eyes catching being the black sail of the ship. So, he wasn’t free…

His heart sank. There was no telling what they were going to do with him now, but he doubted he’d be allowed back with the other prisoners. He never considered being down there with them was a blessing.

“You’ve got a big mouth boy,” another voice sneered.

Doyoung closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see what they had in store for him. Maybe they’d have mercy. Perhaps he’d made them angry enough they’d just slit his throat and be done with it.

He was never that lucky.

One of the greasy pirates grabbed his forearm tightly, too tightly for comfort, but even as he grimaced, the hold didn’t loosen. Instead, he was dragged up from the ground roughly. He let out a yelp as he was tugged a little too hard, his jelly legs too weak to balance himself, but the pirates showed no mercy.

It was only when he was standing that Doyoung realized his once shackled feet were now bound by a thick, irritating rope tied so tightly around his ankles he couldn’t even shuffle.

“Normally, with someone as loud and irritating as you, we’d hand them over to the captain, let him teach ya lessons the hard way,” one pirate spoke, his voice low and gravely.

“But, he’s too busy right now, with us closing in on land and all, so he doesn’t have time to teach ya the lesson below your belt,” another sneered.

Doyoung felt his stomach tie in knots. Below the belt…? They didn’t mean…?

“So we’ll just have to dispose of you the good ole fashion way!” another spoke, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

Before Doyoung had time to process what this meant, the pirate holding his arm yanked him forward. He went tumbling down, unable to move his feet to compensate for the sudden lurch. Laughter erupted around him and Doyoung’s face burned, although he wasn’t sure if it was more from embarrassment or anger.

Another hand gripped his other arm just as tightly as the first and the two arms hauled him into his feet again before dragging him across the spintery deck, his bare feet catching on raised pieces of wood that sliced his feet open. He was dragged up two steps, toes crashing against the edges of the steps, making him wince, until finally, he knew what was about to happen. Tears sprang to his eyes as he struggled, but it was no use. The pirates simply laughed at him as the two holding him pushed him out onto a short board dangling over the water.

“You should have kept your mouth shut boy,” one of the pirates sneered at him.

Doyoung stared down at the roaring waves splashing below him. He didn’t know how to swim! Even if he did, his feet were bound so tightly, he wouldn’t be able to anyway!

“No! Please!” he begged.

Hot tears burned liquidated lines down his cheeks as he begged for his life, but the laughter of the pirates only grew.

“See you in Hell, boy,” the same voice said darkly.

A hard, sharp object was plunged into his back, opening up a large, gaping wound that immediately began pouring blood even before he went plunging into the water.

Doyoung didn’t have time to take a breath before being submerged under the salty ocean waters. He had no stored up air and the pain in his back was nearly unbearable. He struggled to get his feet free, to at least make them move, desperately reaching for the surface, praying for just a bit of oxygen, but as his blood stained the water red, his body sank deeper. His eyes locked on the ship sailing above water. The ship full of hateful pirates who, as he struggled not to fill his lungs with water, would pay for their transgressions.

He lost the battle with his body, his eyes already closing from blood loss, his mind fizzing in and out of consciousness. He inhaled the salty water, filling his lungs and choking.

His body flailed, rejecting the insufficient oxygen, desperately seeking air that would never come. His heartbeat hammered in his ears and, here in the silence of the ocean, suffering his death, he swore he saw movement rapidly moving toward him.

His eyes closed. A shark must have smelt his body and come for dinner, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care any longer as his mind finally stopped responding and his body stopped struggling.

Kim Doyoung was completely unaware of the arms wrapping around his body or the journey he was about to embark upon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Doyoung opened his eyes, he was laying flat on his back. The first thing he noticed was that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The second was the thin stretch of decorative twine across his chest, tying him to the surface which seemed too hard to be a bed. The third happened when he let out a scream and thrashed about for freedom, bubbles rising from his scream that told him he was most likely underwater.

Confused, Doyoung opened his mouth to take a breath, sure he was dreaming or in some weird state of mind, but as he swallowed in a mouthful of water, his body expelling the liquid, filtrating it out of holes in his neck and keeping the oxygen, he let out a yelp. He could breathe? Underwater?

He was beyond confused, but as he looked around the area he was in, his eyes caught something right below him. A long, scaly, blue-grey tail.

His eyes narrowed. Who did the tail belong to?

He reached out a leg to touch it, however, as he did this, he realized two things. One, he couldn’t feel his own leg and two, when he’d attempted to make a leg work, the tail itself had flexed.

“What the hell?!” Doyoung screeched.

He shook his shoulders hard, hard enough he was able to free an arm from the twine tying him to the surface. He brought his hand down around the twine to pull it free from his body, but as he did this, his gaze fixed on his arm. His skin was there, but on several parts of his skin, skin that was close to the bone, there were blue-grey scales shimmering in a dim light. But that wasn’t the only freaky thing. His nails were also an inch longer, pushing way past the end of his finger. They were sharpened to a point and the same, blue-grey color as the scales.

What the hell was happening to him?! Was this some prank? Or some lucid dream as he dies?!

Regardless of his confusion, his first need was to free himself from this twine. Once he was free, then he could worry about what the hell was going on.

He grabbed his hand around the twine and yanked, surprising himself with the amount of strength he had. The twine broke free from his body.

As soon as he was free, he pushed himself off the bed, but, as soon as he lifted, a sharp pain from his back shot through him, forcing him back down as he thrashed and whined.

“Careful. You aren’t healed yet,” a voice he didn’t recognize spoke.

This immediately caught his attention. He flashed up and looked around the room his was in frantically before finally, his eyes caught sight of long, brown hair floating aimlessly in the water. He narrowed his eyes and, as if coming out of her hiding place, a woman emerged.

She had piercing blue eyes and a slender body. She had a seashell bra that seemed to just barely cover her breasts. Doyoung blushed but he couldn’t look away, his eyes trailing lower, questioning what was going on. His eyes caught scales similar to his own on her arms and, with that, his eyes traveled below her waist where he gaped at her long, shimmering, green fish tail.

“What- how- huh-?” he stammered.

The woman smiled softly at him and moved… swam closer.

“My name is Magnolia, but everyone calls me Maggie,” she spoke, her voice sounding crystal clear in his head, not at all gurgled by the water.

Actually, looking at her, there were no bubbles coming from her mouth that wasn’t even moving.

“I am a Siren. I heard your cry for revenge on the pirates that hurt you, and I granted your wish,” she said.

Doyoung gaped at her.

“How- How can I hear you?” he stammered.

Bubbles flew from his mouth as he spoke.

“Don’t try to speak underwater. It is quite difficult. All of us have a telepathic link that, while in range, allows us to communicate,” she said.

Doyoung didn’t really understand, but he tried to.

“How did you grant my wish? Are the pirates dead?” he thought.

It seems he’d accomplished his goal when the woman gave him a small nod and a smile.

“No. They are responsible for your death. It is your choice to punish them as you wish,” she said.

Death? But… that wasn’t possible! He was alive! Unless this was Heaven, which he highly doubted.

“Don’t be alarmed. You did die. Your body bled out and you succumbed to the water, but, due to the violence of your death and your prayer for revenge, you were born again as a Siren.”

Doyoung stared at her, stunned and overwhelmed. A Siren? But they didn’t exist! Now she was telling him he was one!

“I-I…”

His vision tunneled and his body stopped responding as he lost consciousness once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Doyoung came to again, he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face, bringing a smile to his lips. He took in a deep breath that, at first, he expected to be full of water, but when he gulped down a mouth full of oxygen, his eyes flew open.

His back was pressed against the shore of a sandy beach. Waves lolled against the sand, keeping Doyoung from ever being completely dry.

It all must have been a dream. He must have somehow swam to the shore and washed up on the beach.

His body felt sore and stiff from laying in one spot for so long, but as he shuffled, he was able to sit himself upright. As he sat up, he took in his surroundings. The island was small and rocky. Jagged rocks plunged from the water around the shore of the island. The rocks were splattered with blood and surrounded by pieces of ships that had no doubt run onto the rocks. How in the world had he floated onto the island without being ripped to shreds by the rocks?! Had someone carried him?

As he looked down, he had his answer. A long, blue-grey tail shimmered in the sunlight. The scales were mostly dry, but the waves crashing onto the shore kept it moist enough.

So it wasn’t a dream.

“Oh good, you're awake,” a voice spoke near him.

He turned around to catch sight of the same brunette woman he’d seen below water.

“What am I doing here?” he asked.

His eyes trailed over her. The first thing he noticed about her was that she was walking, with human legs! Her fishtail nowhere in sight!

“This is one of the islands we populate. This one is a newer one, so the elders thought to bring you here,” she explained.

This boggled Doyoung’s brain. We? Elders? Just how big was this group of Sirens.

As if reading his mind, the woman, whom he remembered as Maggie, answered.

“There are more Sirens in the world than you might think. Some live deeper in the ocean, choosing not to be a part of our life while others choose to live on land with humans,” she explained.

“So… I’m a Siren now too… So what will I do?” he asked.

“That’s up to you. You may live on this island with the few of us that live here too and learn the way of the Sirens, luring sailors to our island and devouring them, you may choose to live far beneath the sea, or you may choose to roam with the humans,” she explained.

Doyoung’s head was spinning. So many choices to make!

“If I decide to stay on this island, can I change my mind later?” he asked.

“Of course! We’ll always be your family, but you are free to go as you please,” she answered.

This forced a breath out of Doyoung’s chest. At least he wouldn’t be forced into sticking with whatever decision he made now.

“What exactly do Sirens do?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Unbeknownst to him at the time, this question opened a large can of worms that led him into spending the next 50 years projecting his newly acquired angelic voice off the island, luring in unsuspecting pirates and sailors. As their ships crashed into the rocks and the dazzled humans made their way onto the island, Doyoung and the rest of his kin ripped open their throats with their razor-like claws and drank in the sweet blood that tasted of wine on their tongues.

Doyoung even had the pleasure of ripping the heart out of the captain that had captured him all those years ago. Actually, it was the captain and the events thereafter that had him where he was today, sitting in a long, porcelain bathtub with his tail stretching over the side.

Doyoung had first become a Siren for revenge. Revenge on the pirates that had killed him. He had lost sight of that over the years until he and his kinfolk had lured the ship onto the rocky shore.

Everyone that Doyoung had known were long since gone, but there were new prisoners aboard, prisoners that had begged for their lives while Doyoung’s bloodthirsty, revengeful mind tore the captain apart.

He felt no remorse for the captain. It was his fault Doyoung had even become a Siren, but as he sat up and watched his fellow kinfolk rip the prisoners who hadn’t done anything wrong to shreds, he couldn’t take the life any longer.

They were innocent, yet, because they were human, their blood spilled on the rocks, even the blood of the purest human of them all, a small, three year old child who died at the hands of the man Doyoung had come to trust. The man Doyoung had fallen hard for, only to be let down at the males intolerance for humanity.

“I want to leave,” he’d told Maggie a few nights later.

And, with that, Doyoung packed away his few belongings and dived into the sea, leaving everyone he’d come to know and love behind.

He’d swum to another land mass, a mass he recognized slightly, but after so many years, a lot had changed.

He pulled himself out of the harbor and began a new life pretending to be human, only feeding when absolutely necessary and, even then, only on the fish he caught during a swim.

Present Day

A knock on the bathroom door tore Doyoung from his reverie. His body jolted, splashing water onto the floor.

“Babe? Is everything ok? You’ve been in there a while!” his boyfriend's voice spoke on the other side.

Doyoung exhaled.

He had wandered from place to place on the Asian continent for about 3 years before finally making his way back to his hometown. There, he had met a man by the name of Qian Kun, a Chinese male who had relocated to South Korea many years before. The two became fast friends and Kun became the only “human” that knew Doyoung’s secret.

Turns out, Kun himself wasn’t human either, but a vampire that had actually been born a century before Doyoung.

Kun offered Doyoung a place to stay in his mansion along with a few other people, some human, some not.

It was there that Doyoung met Jung Jaehyun, the human that would thaw his frozen heart and teach him the goodness of the world again.

Jaehyun was human when they’d met, but it wasn’t long after Jaehyun, a broke college student, had moved in, that an unfortunate accident involving a rogue werewolf in the woods.

Jaehyun was bitten by a newly turned wolf and became a wolf himself. A wolf that had broken up with Doyoung for about a year until Johnny and Yukhei had come to live at the house, Johnny an alpha werewolf and Yukhei, his best friend and beta.

Johnny and Jaehyun had hated each other at first, Jaehyun presenting as an alpha, but after a huge fight in the backyard that ended with Doyoung and Taeyong nursing Jaehyun’s wounds, Jaehyun joined the small “pack” between Yukhei and Johnny.

There was never another issue. Except for the small fact that Doyoung had never told anyone but Kun and Taeyong the truth about his past, or the true creature he was, too ashamed to admit the awful things he had done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door handle jiggled, causing Doyoung to jump again.

“Doie! Are you ok?” Jaehyun spoke, voice dripped in concern.

Doyoung’s stomach dropped in guilt. Jaehyun had always been open with him about what he was, granted, Doyoung was there when he became what he was, but still, Jaehyun was always open. Doyoung hadn’t returned the courtesy.

“I’m fine Jae! I just got lost in my thoughts!” he responded.

It wasn’t completely a lie.

“Come to my room when you get out, ok? I want to talk to you about something.”

Doyoung didn’t respond as he heard Jaehyun walk away. What was he going to do? Could he tell Jaehyun now and let everything be ok? Could they survive the truth after Doyoung had hid it for so long.

He pulled the plug holding the water in the tub. The water had long since grown cold, something Doyoung hardly noticed anymore.

As the water drained, he pulled himself off the bathtub floor and held himself up until he was sitting on the edge.

Learning how to bathe without leaving the room with a shredded bathroom had been a challenge, but he’d eventually learned.

He lifted his dripping tail from the water, flicking water off his scales before sliding it gently onto the tiled bathroom floor. He shivered at the contact as he reached for a towel hanging nearby, careful not to shred it with his long fingernails.

He dried his upper body first before getting a fresh towel and running it down his tail, drying the scales and his flipper.

Once dry, he rested his tail on a dry towel laying in the floor and waited for his tail to disappear back into two legs.

He didn’t have to wait long before he was able to push himself off the side of the bathtub and walk out the door. Usually, he liked to double check the bathtub and scoop out any scales that had fallen from his tail. In his haste to get to Jaehyun’s room, he had forgotten.

As he stepped into Jaehyun’s room, the younger male instantly gave him a smile and trotted over. He looked like a puppy excited to see its owner and, had Jaehyun been in wolf form, he was sure the males tail would be wagging.

“What did you want?” Doyoung asked.

His question immediately brought a pout to Jaehyun’s lips. Doyoung shook his head with a little laugh and moved closer. He pressed a soft kiss to Jaehyun’s lips.

“I just wanted to talk. To hang out. We never do that anymore,” Jaehyun said.

Instantly, Doyoung felt bad. He hadn’t intended to ignore his boyfriend. Fact was, he just didn’t know how to tell Jaehyun the truth after he’d been hiding it for so long.

“I’m sorry baby. Let’s talk,” he said.

He made his way over to Jaehyun’s bed. He laid down on one side, immediately pressing his face into Jaehyun’s pillow that always smelled like the woods and Jaehyun’s Old Spice shampoo.

Jaehyun slid onto the bed on the other side and wrapped an arm around Doyoung’s waist, drawing a smile from the male in question as he snuggled closer against his boyfriends broad chest. This was probably his favorite place. A place where nothing else in the world mattered besides the two of them.

“You know I love you,” Jaehyun spoke.

His voice vibrated in his chest, causing Doyoung to shudder as chills sprouted up his arms.

“I love you too,” he whispered.

He didn’t realize until Jaehyun smirked how breathless he had sounded.

He blushed and curled closer to hide his face in Jaehyun’s chest, but the werewolf seemed to have another plan, cupping Doyoung’s face and drawing him to his mouth. Minty breath brushed against Doyoung’s lips as they grew closer. He closed his eyes and parted his lips slightly.

Jaehyun moved slowly. He was teasing him, and Doyoung loved every minute of it, because, the second Jaehyun’s warm lips pressed against his own, Doyoung melted into the males arms, butterflies erupting in his stomach and heart pounding in his chest.

The two had kissed before, of course, but Doyoung could’t get over the feeling every time his boyfriend kissed him. It always felt like the first kiss. And Doyoung wouldn’t have it any other way.

One of Jaehyun’s arms stayed securely wrapped around Doyoung’s waist, keeping him pressed flush against his chest while the other wound into Doyoung’s hair, tugging slightly and eliciting a small groan from Doyoung’s throat.

Doyoung’s hands gripped onto Jaehyun’s shirts, holding on for dear life, as if he’d lose Jaehyun in an abyss if he let go.

Oh how right he was.

Jaehyun’s hand had just slipped under the bottom of Doyoung’s shirt, fingers tracing delicately over the skin, when the door burst open.

The two quickly pulled away, fixing their eyes on the door where Donghyuck stood, hand slapped over his eyes.

“Geez! It’s 6 in the evening! At least wait until everyone's asleep!” the male complained.

Doyoung groaned and shot the younger a glare. It wasn’t harsh, but not soft either.

“What do you want Hyuckie?” Jaehyun asked.

Donghyuck walked into the room, making himself at home, much to Doyoung’s annoyance.

“I was just in the bathroom,” Donghyuck began.

“Congratulations,” Doyoung retorted sarcastically.

Donghyuck shot Doyoung a smirk and, almost instantly, his annoyance at the male turned to fear.

“Hyuckie-?” Doyoung questioned nervously.

“I found these in the bathroom after Doyoung hyungs shower!”

Donghyuck presented two blue-gray fish scales.

Doyoung paled and reached up to snatch the scales, but Jaehyun was faster.

“Oh, fish scales! Doyoung must have been cleaning his fish tank,” Jaehyun responded with a shrug, taking the scales from Donghyuck’s palm.

Donghyuck stared at him incredulously.

“Hyung doesn’t have a fish tank…”

“Thank you for getting them out of the drain, hyuckie! You have really saved Taeyong hyung some trouble cleaning! He already has enough to deal with in the drains with the way Johnny, Yukhei, and I all shed,” Jaehyun said.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed Donghyuck who stood there flabbergasted before turning around and leaving the room.

Doyoung slid himself away from Jaehyun slightly to look at the man who had covered for him. He didn’t have a fish tank. Jaehyun had acted so cool about the whole thing. Did he suspect Doyoung had gone fishing or something? No. He was way too chill for that. He hadn’t questioned Doyoung at all. But that could only mean…

“How’d you find out,” Doyoung muttered.

He hung his head and sat up, expecting to be kicked out of the room at any second.

“You’re not as stealthy as you like to think,” Jaehyun spoke.

Doyoung flinched at his voice and closed his eyes.

“You were stressed and upset about a month ago because of so much chaos in the house. That night, you ran from the house. Do you remember?”

Doyoung nodded. He remembered that night like it was yesterday. He had bolted from the house and through the city, never stopping until he got to the empty harbor on the other edge of town. He’d jumped into the water and as soon as the water had closed over his head, encasing him in silence, he’d instantly felt better.

He’d swum for a while, debating on whether or not to go back. Part of him wanted to just disappear. But they were his family and no matter how chaotic they got, Doyoung would always go back.

The second he’d slipped back onto the dock, Kun had been waiting for him with a towel. They’d sat out there drying Doyoung off for an hour where Kun comforted him.

“I followed you. Or rather, I followed your scent to the harbor. I was worried but I watched Kun talk to you. I saw your secret. At first, I was angry that you didn’t tell me. But I talked to Kun and I understood. So, I decided to wait for you to tell me. Did you not trust me enough sooner?” he asked.

There was a hint of pain in his voice that brought tears to Doyoung eyes.

“No I do… It was just… I waited to tell you at first. Then I kept pushing it off out of fear. I was afraid you’d think I was a freak…”

The tears dripped down his face now, droplets hitting the soft blankets before Jaehyun wrapped his arms around him and pulled him back into his chest.

“Baby, you know I love you, right?”

Doyoung looked up at him, eyes still glassy. He turned around and buried his face back in his boyfriend's chest.

It felt so nice to be accepted.

“I love you too.”

#nct oneshot #nct series #supernatural #sirens #mermaids #werewolves #vampires #haechan is a little shit

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