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thewheezingwyvern · 3 years

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Heres a challenge. Pixie/fairy Dabi, or even angel dabi! Something uncharacteristic for his personality xD

Oooh Nons lemme tell you I had a blast with this one. Tickled my brain just write that I was able to just bang this out in a few hours. Gotta give a shout out to @trafalgar-temptress for helping me brainstorm on this. Really helped me get my creative juices flowing juuuuuuuuust right.

ℍ𝕒𝕚𝕝 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕪

Yandere!Angel!Dabi x F!Reader

Kinks/Warnings: Noncon (implied and groping), imprisonment, kidnapping, nudity

As you can see by the warnings this is dark adult content. Minors DNI.

The first time you had ever seen him, it was next to Shouto and the most striking thing about him was his eyes. Brilliant hued sapphires that were more vivid than the sky. Ethereal almost. But every time thereafter they seemed to glow a little brighter. A little darker. A little less holy in their shine. They were almost too much to look at, blinding as they were bathed in sacred light. Shouto especially. Even his feathers shone almost like mirrors catching and magnifying the moon’s rays until they were searing.

But Touya, his light was more muted. Still bright but easier for your eyes to handle. That should have been a sign to you, for the easier an angel is to look at, the farther from grace he has become. And Shouto’s older brother became easier and easier to watch with every passing meeting. By the time you learned the truth about him it was already far too late.

The first time he saw you, it was hatred that pulsed through him. Always the favored one, you were just one more pretty thing that his brother got to have. Another way that Shouto was “better” than him. Thoughts of murder curled in the front of his mind, watching your broken mortal body fracture beneath his rage until you were nothing but a splintered wreck for Shouto to see. Until he noticed that you looked at him far more than his perfect sibling. That was the single drop of poison that bloomed in the wine, steeping him in more greed, lust and envy than he had ever tasted before.

In a way, you were the final shove to Touya’s fall.

The crashing sound of tumultuous waves against a rocky face was the first thing to greet you when you woke. Brine and breeze drifted in and wrapped around your prone form huddled under a thin blanket. The air was filled with a moan, a mournful howl that seemed to be crying for you as you stirred. You were no longer at home in the safety of your own bed, that was apparent when you drew more into consciousness and found yourself curled on a pile of thick pillows. But the detail that struck to your heart that you weren’t home was what you saw first.

Golden bars inlaid with pearl.

They wove intricately into a gorgeous dome, twisting into a cage to keep you confined as the ocean crashed in the background. Beyond the confines of your prison you could see the open mouth of a cave that you had been tucked away into, one that opened out to face the wide open sea. Even from your spot tucked back in the corner you could tell that it was far too high for you to risk jumping even if you did manage to escape your cage. Your prison should have been a dank, dark and wet place but there were braziers placed in various nooks, burning with holy fire to help sheath the cave in a warmth that kept it cozy.

Lanterns were strung into the roof, also flickering with sacred fire to help ward off the damp. There was even some chairs, a plush rug and an exquisite tapestry strung up on the far rocky wall. Had you not been locked up, silver shackles also twisted around your ankles to further trap you, you might have enjoyed this space as a little hide away from the world. There wasn’t much to do since you were alone and the cage was far too strong for you to force open on your own. So all you could do was wait.

When the sun was sinking beyond the line of the horizon, Touya finally appeared. A dark glee curled in his chest when he saw the sheer look of relief that washed over your face when you caught sight of him. Already he could taste the hope bursting from you, a sweet little treat for him to savor before he got to rip it from your grasping hands. You collapsed against the cage, fingers wrapping against the bars as you peered out at him with teary eyes.

“Touya, I’m so happy it’s you! I don’t know how I got here but I’m glad you found me! You have to get me out of here.”

“Don’t worry, Doll. I’ll let you out.”

Hope was also the thing that blinded you from the wicked glow in his eyes, the slow lap of his tongue across his lips at the thought of you realizing far too late that you were trapped by him when he held you against him. Relief was the next thing that blinded you when he unlocked the cage, completely glossing over the detail that he had the key in his pocket. Touya folded you up into his arms when you collapsed against his chest, sobs wracking your body, feathered wings arching to cover you.

“Shouto must be worried sick!” you muttered into his chest, “How long have I been gone?”

“Two days. He’s losing his mind right now.”

Your face was buried into his chest so you couldn’t see the razor grin that had split across his gorgeous face. For good measure, he cupped a hand to the back of your head, murmuring soft comforting words to you as you quaked in his arms. It was important he savored this. It was going to be the last time for a long while before you would willingly touch him again.

“Please take me home…”

Touya chuckled darkly, “Awww you don’t like it here?”

He watched you lift your tear stained face up, staring up at him with bewildered eyes. A thumb swiped gently at the stroke of your cheekbones before hooking down to trail along your jaw. Confusion mottled your expression before the first prick of fear flickered in your eyes. The way your mouth hung open made him want to kiss you breathless, crush you to him until you were pounding at his chest to let you go and even then go further.

“No! Why would I want to stay here in a cage?!”

“But you look so pretty in there, Dollface.”

The dark angel captured your wrists in his hands as you started to back away from him, hauling you closer. Fear burst even brighter in your eyes, your whole form quaking in his grasp. The sight made his cock twitch, breath panting ragged from his lips as you squirmed.

“T-Touya? This isn’t funny! Take me home.”

“Sorry babes. This is your home now.” the way all the hope withered in your eyes when you realized he was your captor had his blood running hot, “Poor little Shouto is just going to have to do without.”

Touya dipped his dark head down before he started leaving scorching hot kisses to your exposed neck. You trembled and thrashed but you just did not have the strength to break free of him. Just how he liked it. Roughly he whipped you around and pulled you back to chest against him, hooking his left arm around your arms to imprison them behind your back. A whimper escaped you as his free hand closed over your neck in a warning grip before sliding slowly down towards your collarbones.

“St-stop it! Touya, please!”

“God’s not here, sweetheart. So you don’t have to pretend to be so pure and innocent now. I saw the way you kept your eyes on me more than Shouto. He was too bright. Too pure for you to handle. Fact is, you craved a bit of darkness didn’t you?” he whispered wickedly into your ear, a hand groping at your right breast through the silky shift you were clad in, “My brother doesn’t deserve you and I’ve decided that I’m going to keep you. You’re mine now.”

A finger and thumb pinched your nipple through the silken fabric, pulling a choked cry from your throat. A rock hard cock rutted against the curve of your backside, summoning up his own groan of pleasure. At first he had wanted to steal you away from perfect little Shouto, the shining son, out of spite. To take away one of the things he wanted the most and wreck you. But the more time went on, the more Touya wanted you for himself. Why break such a delicious creature when he could just take you and keep you? It would stroke the wicked green eyed devil that had started to grow within his chest and also lash out the prodigal son.

“Touya please don’t do this!” you begged, a loud moan escaping you when his hand shot down to rub against your clit, “Ah-! Please! I-I won’t tell anyone if you let me go-”

The sounds of your begging unleashed a clash of emotions in him. On the one hand, hearing your voice break and plead him made his dick twitch against the curve of your ass. It was a delicious little sound and he wanted to hear more from you. But it also sparked a deep rage in him. Touya went through all of this trouble, stealing some of Heaven’s prized metal work to fashion a cage for you here. Spent months scoping out the perfect place to keep you so you couldn’t escape and no one could find you. He had even taken the extra steps to try and make it comfortable.

“Ingrateful whore.” he snarled, tearing open your shift to bare your form to the seaside air. Any trace of gentleness he had shown before evaporated when he shoved you face first against the side of the gilded cage, “Take a good long look at this cage. Because this and me is the closest you’ll ever get to those pearly fucking gates again.”

You wondered where it had all gone wrong. Wondered how he could do something so awful to you and his brother. He was an angel, one of the holy ones, it wasn’t supposed to be this way at all. Shouto made it easy for you to forget that they could fall just like anyone else. That they could be fallible and prone to corruption.

Afterall, every demon is an angel that’s fallen from grace.

((Want to participate in Arcane April? Check out my post here about the event and send in your requests! One day left!))

#Dabi x reader #Dabi x you #Dabi x y/n #Yandere!Dabi #Angel!Dabi #MHA #BNHA #nsftumblr #my writing #ArcaneApril #Anonymous

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attina-the-responsible · 3 years

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The Triton House

This is part of a series that one day may be complete but also may never be complete. As most of you know I’m like a huge #spatial person in my writing, so all my character’s houses/apartments/living spaces are really well mapped out in my brain? And I thought it’d be fun for people to see. (And a good reference for those who may RP in those spaces at some point.) Also, shout out to the mersisters for letting me force my ideas on them, lmao.

@andrina-the-amazingsupergenius, @adella-the-idyllic, @arista-the-musical, @aquata-the-champ, @alana-the-brilliant

Overview:

The Triton House is a 7 bedroom, 4 bath house in the richest neighborhood in Swynlake. It was built originally in 1909. This chateau sits on a half acre property with an original brick façade and lattice along the front that is covered in sweet-scented wisteria. Even the outside boasts a cheery, warm environment which is only expounded upon by the interior.

*note: click to enlarge floorplans!

**note: pictures in the aesthetic are to give an overall #feel of the house, but don’t necessarily indicate the exact furniture/decorations/floorplan. the floorplan, on the otherhand is not quite to scale but i did the best i could.

1. Living Room

The front part of the Triton household is a spacious, open floor plan, with the kitchen to the immediate left and the seating area on the immediate right. Guests arrive on a dias and descend two steps in either direction, or forwards towards the back of the house and stairs. The living room is decorated in a clean, but homey way, with plenty of seating area, both for the comfort of the large family and the benefit of any guests they may have. There is a chest of blankets that get passed around on colder nights. A large telly can swivel on an axis if someone prefers one seat to another but is large enough and set in a place so as to be viewable from most living room seats. The colours are cream and blues, with other accent colours and many mismatched throw pillows, some with quirky sayings and others that were crocheted by some of the girls.

2. Kitchen

The Triton kitchen is a large, boisterous room of the house. With a large amount of counter space and a six-top stove set into the island counter, it is ideal for cooking for a significant group of people. The oven sits next to the refrigerator and is state of the art. The cabinets are arranged in a neat, organized way, with each girl having a shelf for her own snacks and goodies. Everything is labeled and diligently upkept. The refrigerator is covered in photos of family/friends as well as cards, certificates of merits, medals, and other familial memorabilia. Once again, the kitchen is decorated in a homey fashion, with plenty of cliche sayings hanging on the walls (think: Live. Laugh. Love. style.) (see: the middle, top image.)

3. Dining Room

The dining room in the Triton household is rather cramped, but a much frequented place for the Tritons to gather. Dinners are frequent and even if missing one or two members, still crowded affairs, usually involving guests as well. There are extra chairs that can be squeezed in to make room if necessary and everyone is used to bumping elbows. Still, it is a lovely little room and has served the Tritons well in the almost thirty years they’ve lived there.

4. Sun Room/Music Room

Down the hallway, making your way towards the back of the house, one comes across a door to the left. One of the most peaceful rooms in the house, the rambunctious, fast-paced nature of the Triton abode is usually left behind when entering this room. Originally a sunroom, it still boasts large floor-to-ceiling windows on two walls, facing northwest, in order to catch the afternoon sunlight. Here is where the Tritons store and practice their various instruments, of which only a few are listed here: a grand piano, a keyboard, a classical harp, a saxaphone, a drumset, and several guitars. The Tritons are an actively musical family, though the music room is not as busy as it was several years ago. Now, it is a peaceful place, still used often for practices, but also for contemplative journal-writing, reading, or other such pastimes, when one needs a moment alone.

5. Guest Bedroom/Office Space

Once the permanent home of the Triton’s nanny, Benjamin, the room was vacated several years ago. Located down the hall at the back of the house on the right, across from the music room, it is now a guest room/office that is used on occasion. Even though it is a guest room, it is still stocked with cozy decorations and family photos.

6. Washing Room

If you venture past the music room and guest room, you will turn right and see a door on the right hand side. Always overflowing with laundry, but somehow usually tidy, the washroom sees a lot of action from the Tritons’ various activities. This room also is decorated with typically cliche saying placards and other cozy, homey touches.

7. Guest Bathroom

“It is down the hall, to the right, to the right, and through the washroom!” is a common phrase during Triton parties, or when someone visits for the first time. Though it is tucked into the back of the house, the guest restroom sees frequent use, both from inhabitants whilst downstairs, as well as the copious guests that flow in and out of the Tritons’ doors. Decorated in an ocean/beach theme, because Athena thought she was very funny and now it is a bit of an inside joke that they won’t change.

8. Underwater Grotto

Instead of entering the washroom, if one looks straight on after turning right down the main hall, they will spot a door with a state-of-the-art lock on it. If asked, a Triton will reply with a laugh and--depending on who it is--you will get any number of responses as to what the room is used for, from a superhero lair to their father being paranoid about storage. The mysteries of what is in the Triton basement are revealed to only a select few. Behind the door is an indoor saltwater pool. Damp and dark, the pool is magically enhanced to be quite large and deep, perfect for mermaids. The floors and walls are made of stone, so the whole place looks more like a cave than a room. It has an inclining entrance to the pool and spreads the length and width, with a few places for sitting around the edges and dotted in the center in large rock croppings. The Tritons can often be found here with each other or the other mermaids/selkies in Swynlake. It is known as a haven for mercreatures of all kinds.

9. Upstairs Hallway

Back at the front of the house, if one does not enter the hallway, they have the option to ascend the plain staircase. (If one looks behind the staircase to the wall, one will see dozens of notches in the wall, labeled with dates, heights, and names of the Triton girls.) Along the wall leading upwards is a collage of family photos that cover the wall in the most typical fashion one can imagine. On the second floor, the stairs float in the middle of a large hallway. Directly in front of the top of the stairs is the master bedroom. Up slightly and to the left is the Adella and Arista’s room, up slightly and to the right is Aquata and Alana’s room. If one turns around, they will see Ariel’s room to their left and Attina and Andrina’s room to the right, as well as another set of stairs that leads upwards once more.

10. Attina and Andrina’s Room

The two eldest Triton girls’ room has been vacant for several years, though is often still used by either or both girls when they are home for holidays or other such events. In their youth, the room was haphazardly decorated on one side--with mostly pink decor; on the other side was a more tidy version--mostly decorated in orange. It has two desks, one for each girl, as well as a spacious closet that was shared (and the site of many battles.) Now, it is mostly barebones but vestiges of Andrina and Attina’s childhood and adolescence remain. Often, Alana commandeers the room as her own, or second room, nowadays.

11. Attina, Andrina, Adella, and Arista’s Restroom

The bathroom is shared between four sisters: Attina, Andrina, Adella, and Arista and was also a site of much contention. The counter was full of products and it was always a battle for getting ready in the morning, especially in the unfortunate years when all four girls were in secondary at the same time. Arista would always somehow manage to use someone else’s hairbrush and it was extremely obvious by the blonde hair left behind. The little racks and shelves are decorated with shells on the outside of them from when they used to go hunting the beach in Bournemouth for the prettiest shell. There’s jars full of them still somewhere in the house. It’s a lot less cluttered now that Arista and Adella mostly use it.

12. Adella and Arista’s Room

Adella’s side of the room is closest to the window. The head of her bed is pushed against the wall, and her nightstand table’s top drawer is where her hearing aids live while she sleeps. Her desk was never used for school work - she’d go elsewhere in the house for that - and instead houses her sewing machine. Her guitar is mounted on the wall when she isn’t using it, the guitar is decorated with political, ideological, and cute stickers. On the nightstand is a cute little touch to turn on lamp with seahorses on it. There are battery-pack powered strings of lights all over the room as decoration, hung neatly around any posters and other wall decor. The main light in the room is barely flicked on -its usually illuminated by the battery pack lights and the nightstand lamps, or natural light from the sun.

Arista’s side of the room is closest to the door because she doesn’t like thunderstorms and the changing weather always used to distract her when she was younger so her desk is next to her bed and turned to face away from the window. She has a rolling spinny chair that she’s frequently seen curled up in and writing on a notebook in her lap. Her desk is filled with sheet music and notebooks and binders full of all sorts of things that Tina helped her make so she could keep track of what music and manuals went with what instrument. She has cases of instruments and spare parts and shoe boxes under her bed from all the Christmases when she didn’t know what to tell people she wanted aside from shoes and cool instrument accessories. Typically Arista tries to keep all of the instruments in the music room because if she starts bringing them into their room, things get very cluttered very fast and it would stress Tina out and distract her from other things growing up so she just learned to keep most instruments in their designated room. (A keyboard or extra guitar still sometimes manages to find its way into their room every now and then though). Arista’s nightstands have several sets of earphones, headphones, earbuds, and a bowl of guitar picks on top of them so she can just grab one and go. On the nightstand is a pull chain lamp covered in shells. Much of Ris’ closet organization was Tina’s doing, it’s the only way the two girls managed to have closet space with her ever growing shoe collection and sentimental keepsakes stash (she doesn’t like throwing a lot of things away because they hold happy memories) in addition to their clothes. Her wall has both a dry erase board of “things she absolutely cannot forget about” for the week and a large cork board filled with all the showcases she’d played in, playbills from the productions she’d worked on, postcards of cities from tour, and photos of her sisters with her making the biggest smile imaginable.

13. Aquata and Alana’s Room

Alana and Aquata's room has light blue walls, a color chosen by Aquata before Ariel was born and neither knew that they'd share a room one day. Alana's side is closer to the window, since Aquata historically got up earlier and had to leave earlier. On Alana's end, there are boho tapestries,fairy lights, and strings of photos and scrapbook style bulletin boards. The bed has purple and turquoise sheets and is full of throw pillows. The desk opposite the bed used to have a pretty fancy video and computer setup (it's now with her in her flat) There's tons of candles and also just a lot of...stuff in general. Even though she doesn't live there anymore, it's not near clean. Clothes, makeup, half completed experiments litter the available surfaces. Aquata’s side is somewhat neater and sparser. She has a shelf full of swimming memorabilia (photos, trophies, medals, etc) above her bed and the rest of her sport memorabilia is on a smaller bookshelf at the foot of her bed. She also has a signed team photo framed at the head of her bed from her last meet at Pride U. Her bedspread is a steely blue color and over it she has a T-shirt quilt made out of old swim camp shirts that date back to primary school. Aquata doesn’t spend much time in her room, so it doesn’t look overly lived-in.

14. Aquata, Alana, and Ariel’s Restroom

It used to be a lot messier when Alana lived here, absolutely chaotic on her side with products and hair curlers and stuff that Aquata always had to yell at her to clean up. Sometimes the sink would be colored with whatever experiment Lana was working on. Ariel’s space is small considering the few beauty products she actually has. Shockingly, it's the most cleaned space she has designated to herself, but only because of her current lack of interest in makeup. Though a couple small pallets for events are stowed away in a drawer, they’ve hardly been put to good use. Really, it’s mostly just the essentials for her. Aquata’s space is mostly clean as well, with one trusty makeup set that she almost always uses (occasionally she’ll borrow something from Alana if it’s a special occasion). She does have an absolute mess of scrunchies, headbands, and hair ties in one of the drawers, and she usually leaves her Tiger Balm out on the counter.

15. Ariel’s Room

With Ariel being the only Triton sister with her own room, she takes full advantage of the space. She’s able to spread her things about (or leave clothes lying around when she’s in a rush), and not argue or worry about someone else’s space or an imaginary divider in the room. The room is decorated in an array of posters from bands she adores to the newest anime she’s binging with Finn and just had to have the poster for. She’s also a big fan of hanging Christmas lights haphazardly around her room and using that as a source of light instead of the actual ceiling lights in her room. When home, she spends most of her time here, so the bed is rarely ever made. Instead, the blankets are in the shape she left them, normally nest like, where she spends hours on her computer from watching drumming videos to just browsing odd forums late into the night. Of course, her trusty shark plush since childhood, Billy, is present on her bed at all times, holding down the fort when she’s gone.

16. Master Bedroom and Bathroom

The master bedroom is the largest bedroom in the Triton household. It is decorated in warm, muted colors. Much has not changed in the years after Athena’s death. Even some of her clothes are still in the closet, which Triton never had the heart to remove. It is only a few items: her favorite sunhat, a dress he had bought her for her birthday she wore all the time, her favorite pair of trainers, well-worn, stuff such as that, that was not removed to the attic.

17. Triton’s Study

A place of mostly mystery to the girls when young, Triton’s study is tucked away on the third floor, and is most often frequented by Triton on restless nights when he cannot sleep. Though, it is also used while he runs his business from home on occasion. The room is one of the more decadent of the house. The rest has a warm, inviting atmosphere, but the study is much more reserved. Decorated in deep blues and greens, it boasts lovely oak bookshelves, of which Triton is very fond. There is a large desk and even a deep brown leather couch, which Triton can often be found napping on before dinner.

18. Athena’s Studio

A room that has been untouched since the death of Athena, the studio was once a bright, lovely space where Athena spent much of her time that was not occupied by caring for her seven daughters or when she was not out volunteering in various charity positions. Athena was not as talented an artist as a musician, but she still enjoyed creating things. Athena’s studio was a charming crafting space, full of yarn, scrapbooking, canvases on easels, and other such projects. Some are still unfinished.

19. Guest Bedroom/Old Playroom

This room used to be where the girls had their playroom so that their parents could keep an eye on them while they were upstairs also. It has only been packed up and converted in the last ten years or so, after ARiel finally grew out of it mostly. Now, it’s just a nice guest space for when people are over.

20. Attic

The attic in the Triton household is less of a storage space and more of a tomb for Athena. After her death, all of her possessions were moved to this space, except for the jewelry, clothing, and knick-knacks which were distributed amongst her family and friends. There is also a large storage of photos from the girls’ childhood. While many litter the house, the extras and all of Athena’s scrapbooks were put away in the attic. The attic is seldom visited, except for when someone is searching for Christmas decorations, or the like.

#triton house #mersisters #mersisters stuff #inspiration #i have had this done for like TWO years #fuck me lmao #no time like the present i GUESS #shout out to everyone for contributing <3 #it's a little out dated bc obvi adella has left since but #oh well

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foxtophat · 4 years

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I SAID I WOULD UPDATE TODAY and i meant it!!! so here is chapter 5, which marks the end of my “mostly written out” chapters. honestly i had to basically rewrite this one already so i guess last chapter was the last one i had mostly done. we’re in uncharted waters here on out, boys!!!

this chapter is actually the one that sort of galvanized me to write the story in the first place. i had the first 2 chapters in idea form, and then i had the plot for this chapter sprung on me and i knew i had to make this shit happen. so that’s what i’m doing, even if it’s self-indulgent trash, it’s MY self-indulgent trash!

i’m so grateful that there are others out there who are enjoying reading this fic as much as i enjoy writing it! i hope to keep going forward with the plot (such as it is), and there’s only... i think 2 other chapters that are just going to be about john and the ryes. the rest of the story will actually have other characters in it!!! which is fun, right? it’s not like nick’s friends are going to be offended and upset over john surviving, right???

below the cut is the text of this chapter, in case you don’t feel like going over to ao3. if it doesn’t fuck up your aesthetic, consider giving that lil reblog button a tap, but otherwise don’t sweat it! we’ll see each other next chapter, i’m sure :)

The whole "keeping John as a prisoner" thing starts to fall into routine around the two-week mark. It only takes a few days for John to learn to be awake by the time Nick comes in, dressed and ready to eat quick. A few days later and he's finished clearing the first story out, surprised when the job comes to an end, as if he'd really thought all Nick needed from him was a few days of house-cleaning. Joke's on him — Nick and Kim find no shortage of tasks for John to complete, which he does without complaint. He might scoff at some of the requests, but that doesn't stop him from obediently doing as he's told.

They use John to repair the roof, board up the lower windows and reinforce supports. He drags heavy debris from the house, separating the useful from the useless under Kim's watchful eye. Nick puts him to work repairing the fences that have already blown down after less than a year. One day has him scaling the side of the house, and then the next, he'll be literally down in the dirt.

Sometimes, John can work all day before Nick has to tell him to stop; other times, he'll only manage a few short hours before he looks ready to collapse on the spot. Nick suspects he isn't sleeping enough, but that doesn't mean he's getting out of anything. He has work for John even when he can barely stand up straight, like pulling screws from old shed siding and sorting through boxes of random components. The little, nearly pointless chores that have gotten put off solely for being too trifling make perfect work for an exhausted ex-cultist.

There are times, sure, when John acts... weird . He'll be solemnly working one minute, then jittery and distracted in the next. Sometimes, he'll get... uncomfortably obedient, meticulously following instructions and standing helpless when he's not being actively told what to do. But you know, even Nick's favorite drill had a wonky power-cord and a quirky backspin. He's used to making the most out of old tools like John Seed.

Two weeks is about as long as they can keep Carmina away from home while John is working. It's Kim who caves first on the issue, as they hit a wall coming up with things to do out of the house. It's easier to teach Carmina at home, for one thing. She can't get distracted or attacked by a wild animal while learning how to read or being taught history or math. There's also the fact that winter is coming on soon, and being outside all day simply won't be feasible forever. And anyway, it's safer to have two sets of eyes on John, in case he decides to pull something.

Neither of them are sure what to tell Carmina. They'd done their best to teach her about their history, but growing up in the bunker had kept her from understanding just how bad things had been. She knows about Eden's Gate, the Seeds, her godparent — but it's just a series of fables for her. She's touched Nick's scarred chest with wide-eyed wonder and hugged them through their night terrors in a way a child should never have to comfort their parents, but everything else is hearsay and tall tales. Now that they have the culprit living on their land, working for them — how are they supposed to explain that to her?

It turns out not to matter all that much. Once Carmina sees the man that's been secretly living in the house with them, she almost immediately loses interest. John had been a mysterious figure, someone her parents refused to talk about around her, but it looks like his gaunt appearance, heavy beard and long, scraggly hair has dissolved the mystery pretty promptly. Carmina takes one good look at John as he pries stripped screws from an old crate, wrinkles her nose, and turns back to homework. She doesn't even ask why he's working all the time, who he is, anything . It's such a strong dismissal that even Nick feels the burn.

It's a good thing John isn't his old, charismatic self, or else they might be dealing with it differently. The last thing Nick needs is for him to put a bunch of weird ideas in his kid's head.

Fall is dead and gone before Nick knows it, and winter sweeps in all around them. It's colder than it used to be, and the days are painfully short. It doesn't take long before the morning frost becomes all-day frost. The radio chatter these days implies that most of the county has gone into hibernation mode, bunkering down and preparing to wait out the season. From what Nick knows of living above-ground, the past winters have been literally killer. It's a lesson that everyone seems to have learned by now.

Nick is surprised by the first snowfall, although Kim has been expecting it for days now. It isn't much, barely enough to cover the ground with powder, but it's enough to bring all four of them inside before dark. Nick watches John like a hawk as he sorts out different screws from different projects, keeping him seated on the stairs while Kim and Carmina get into an argument about the use of multiplication tables after the apocalypse. Nick doesn't really see the point either, but then again, he was easily ten years old before he understood his times-tables.

For the first time, Nick doesn't bother to lock John away before dinner, letting him stay on the stairs to eat. First, though, Nick has him drag the large, makeshift cover across the back porch. It's not bad for a piecemeal DIY job Nick threw together in an afternoon, but it's heavy as shit and it completely buries the lower floor in darkness. Their sole oil lamp isn't enough to completely dissipate the gloom, but at least they can see what they're eating. John, sitting at the edge of the ring of light, eats slowly, casting furtive glances at the darkness.

The night turns from chilly to bitterly cold, which is enough to encourage everyone upstairs. Kim and Carmina become professional bed-makers, knowing exactly which blankets should be used to cushion the dirty mattress of the bed and which ones are best for bundling up in. Lately, Carmina's been really into nest-styled sleeping, which has its benefits during the coldest season of the year. Nick can't say he minds getting to cuddle with his family all night — come springtime, the heat will set back in and Carmina will start kicking all the blankets off again. Before long, she's gonna need her own space, and then Nick can kiss this cozy winter set-up goodbye.

Nick doesn't need to goad John into moving. He slips off the stairs before Carmina and Kim pass him, hovering by the support beam and staring at Nick expectantly.

"Well?" Nick asks, gesturing, "Get going."

John hustles up the stairs, shuddering in his borrowed coat. Nick follows behind, pistol holstered and oil lamp raised to give them all some light to work with. Kim is already lighting the bedroom candles by the time Nick reaches the landing, while Carmina has begun meticulously organizing the bed to her standards. Nick can see them both from the doorway as he marches John to the spare room, turning the cold room cozy just with their presence.

John doesn't wait for Nick to order him into his room. He goes willingly, eagerly even, quick to bundle up in his rough blankets. He doesn't even notice Nick watching him from the doorway, pulling off his shoes like he's eager to climb into his homemade bed. The room is practically a freezer, which might be because Nick hasn't bothered to properly board up the windows in here. Wind whistles through inch-wide gaps, sucking out the body-heat Nick is hoping to share with his family.

"You gonna be good in here?" Nick asks, absolutely hating himself for his burst of pity. "Not, uh... too cold, or anything?"

"I guess we'll find out," John replies, shrugging the concern away.

"Guess so," Nick echoes unhappily, shutting the door with every intention of locking John in there like Schroedinger's Jack Torrence. But locking the door doesn't put his concerns entirely to rest. As Nick returns to his room, to Kim and Carmina climbing into a bed full of blankets and tanned hides, he finds himself wondering if John couldn't use an extra blanket or two.

Kim catches him watching and raises an eyebrow. "Everything okay?" she asks, knowing full well that he's probably over-thinking this whole "prisoner" thing again. She's been patient as hell with all his worrying. Nick really doesn't wanna find her limit.

"Yeah," Nick replies, "Of course it is."

Carmina pulls a well-worn copy of The Wizard of Oz out from under the mattress, handing it to Kim for her to flip to the right page. "Is John cold?" she asks, frowning skeptically at her dad. "Is he allowed to have more blankets?"

"What?" Nick asks. She stares back expectantly, until Nick shakes his head and says, "Of course he's allowed to have... I mean, he hasn't asked for any..."

"Don't worry about John," Kim says, gently chastising both of them as she puts an arm around Carmina's shoulders. "Come on, we're almost to the flying monkeys."

It's easy for Carmina to forget about a guy she's never so much as said "hello" to. For Nick, it's a bit more of a struggle. He tries to pay attention while Kim and Carmina take turns reading passages, but they've read this damn book at least a dozen times. Granted, they only have so many books appropriate for a girl Carmina's age — it's either this or one of Nick's old Hardy Boys novels. Thankfully, as the three of them curl up under the covers, Nick gets warm enough to fall asleep, putting John out of his mind at last.

——

Nick wakes up with a few less blankets than he started with, his teeth chattering as he curls under the remaining deerskin. Kim and Carmina are huddled together to one side of the bed, having absorbed the other blankets he'd fallen asleep under. If he wants to get them back, he's probably going to have to wake one of them up.

If he's cold, then John's probably freezing.

Jesus, he's barely awake ten seconds before he's worrying again! This is ridiculous But... his concerns aren't entirely unfounded. John doesn't have the benefit of shared body-heat and excessive bedding — Nick's not sure he'd even count the blankets he does have as bedding to begin with. And — well, he's been doing everything that they've told him to, without bitching or half-assing anything. It's only fair to reward him for good behavior, isn't it?

"Kim," Nick hisses, nudging her until she grunts something like his name in response. "I'm, uh, gonna check in on John."

"Why," Kim groans quietly. One hand slips out of the blankets to cover Carmina's ear, in case she isn't still dead asleep. "It's cold, come back to bed."

"That's why," Nick replies. "He's got to need another blanket."

"We've been waiting for him to die for weeks," Kim mumbles, "Can't you just let mother nature do her job?"

"It doesn't feel right," Nick whispers. Kim sighs in response and he immediately backpedals, sure that he's finally found the end to that seemingly infinite supply of patience. "I know, we've been more than fair, I should just ignore it, it's dumb."

Kim shakes her head. "No, that's not it. I mean... you're right. It's not like I..." Kim pauses, belatedly waking up enough to check that Carmina is still asleep before admitting, "It's not like I want to be the one to bury him, you know?"

Nick does know. He'd been assuming he'd be the one doing that part. "Could always leave him for the wolves," Nick offers half-heartedly.

"As if they'd want any of that ," Kim scoffs, tired enough to be offended on the hypothetical wolves' behalf.

"Look, I'm only gonna give him an extra blanket. It's the bare minimum. Not because we feel sorry for him or anything."

Kim nods, checking Carmina once again for any signs of secretly listening. Thankfully, Carmina sleeps like a fucking log. "Yeah," she agrees. "It's so we don't feel sorry for ourselves."

John is awake when Nick goes to check on him, and he looks fucking miserable. He's trembling, wrapped up in a poor attempt to conserve heat, although he manages to keep his teeth from chattering after Nick opens the door. Nick was right to worry; it's even colder in here than he'd expected. The gaps in the boarded window are wide enough to wash the room in pale moonlight, which just makes the whole room feel even more frosty and alien.

All at once, the blanket he's about to offer doesn't feel like it'll be anywhere near enough. John probably won't freeze to death, but there's a good chance that he might not be healthy enough to fight off the chill. If he gets sick again, that'll be another week or so where they'll be feeding John for free.

"You cold?" Nick asks, hoping that pointing out the obvious will earn him a comeback that'll dim his sympathy. He needs to not feel bad for a man who's tortured and murdered too many people to count. He's a fucking monster, a psychotic maniac. So what if he's cold? So what if he can't sleep? So what if he freezes to death?

John drops his eyes to the blanket in Nick's hand.

"Yes," he rasps.

With a heavy sigh, Nick balls up the blanket and chucks it at John, who grabs it out of the air and immediately adds it to his cocoon. To Nick's absolute horror, John opens his big mouth and says, "Thank you." His gratitude seems genuinely given, as though Nick has finally brought reprieve to some kind of agony, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable weight on Nick's shoulders.

Nick knows he's getting played. He must be. John knows he's a sap, and he's a manipulative liar who was willing to threaten Nick's unborn child to get what he wanted, of course he's doing this on purpose. He's not above pretending to be pathetic for attention, of course he isn't. The worst part is that, even though Nick knows all of that, he still can't help but fall for it.

"You — you're welcome," he says. "Shit, it's freezing in here. Has it been like this all winter?"

"Not all winter," John mutters, like an asshole.

"You should have said something," Nick snaps, "I woulda... done something before now. You could've gotten a couple extra blankets out of me."

John silently pulls the new blanket tighter over himself, and Nick's irritation returns with a weird, unhealthy dollop of sorrow for the stupid asshole. "Fine, be that way," he snaps. He wishes he could slam the door to make a point, but Carmina is still asleep and he'd like to keep it that way.

When he gets back to the bedroom, Nick's first thought is of how much warmer it is than he'd realized. He's been deceptively comfortable this whole winter, not knowing that John's been freezing half to death at night just down the hall. Maybe if John weren't so useful, he could brush off his worries. Maybe if he weren't such a stupid coward, he could be satisfied with the good he's already done for that sack of shit.

"Kim," he calls softly, "You still up?"

"No," Kim mumbles. "What?"

"I, uh... think we need to bring John in here."

" What ?" Kim repeats, craning her neck to stare at him. Carmina grunts against her, thankfully burrowing under the blankets instead of waking up.

"I know, I know, but — it's fuckin' cold in there, Kim. The window's still broke, I never got around to properly boarding it up and —"

"What did he say to convince you this would be a good idea?"

Nick sighs. "He didn't say anything, that's the worst part. I'm doing all the convincing myself." He waits for her to say something, but she doesn't, so he repeats himself helplessly. "It really is cold in there. I.. I don't think I can leave him like that."

Kim looks at him as though he's grown a second head, and she can't decide if it's more or less attractive than the one she married. "He has to be restrained," she says at last. "And you keep him away from Carmina. Even if that means you don't get any sleep at all."

"Yeah," Nick replies. "I can do that."

"I'll have the rifle next to me," she adds. "If he pulls something..."

"Of course," he says.

Nick takes his deerskin, an extra blanket and two pillows, and tosses them into the far corner. He takes the shoulder strap off of the rifle as well, holding it up for Kim to sleepily approve of as an impromptu rope. Nick's not sure what he's going to do if John rejects the terms of this offer, but he's hoping he won't have to look like an ass for suggesting it.

John is still awake when Nick returns. He stares apprehensively as Nick approaches with the length of cord, but he doesn't try to bolt.

"Hands out," Nick orders, gesturing towards his hidden arms. When John hesitates, he sighs and adds, "I'm not gonna hurt you, come on."

John's brow furrows. "Then what are you going to do ?"

"I'm gonna make sure you can't murder me in the middle of the night. Do you wanna sit here and freeze to death, or what?"

That doesn't seem to do much to reassure John, but Nick doesn't need him reassured, he needs him to follow orders. Finally, he holds out his hands, staring skeptically at Nick as his teeth chatter against his will. He doesn't resist as Nick secures his bony wrist.

Once he's satisfied, Nick drags John onto his feet. "Get your stuff," he tells John, "I'm not sharing my blankets with you."

John does what he's told, quickly scooping up the blankets that have fallen to the wayside. Nick gestures for the door, but John only manages to reach the doorway before he stops.

"Hey, get moving," Nick says, scowling as John resists at the doorway. When he doesn't budge, Nick hisses, "Don't get any ideas, now. Kim and I are both armed, and —"

"I know," John replies. His heavy, hooded eyes find Nick's, searching him suspiciously for some hint at his master plan. "Why are you doing this?"

Nick sighs. He's not about to tell John he's taking pity on him, and it's not like John is going to believe Nick's doing this simply because he feels bad. He briefly considers forgetting the whole plan to save himself the trouble of explaining himself. "I'm lazy and I don't wanna have to carry your dead weight downstairs," he snaps. "Either you keep your mouth shut and come with me, or you can sit in here and freeze."

John goes quietly from there. Kim is awake when Nick marches him into the room, and she regards the entire procession with extreme distrust. That's fair. Nick doesn't trust it anymore himself, and he's the one who had the idea in the first place. She doesn't say anything, but she watches as Nick points John to a spot against the far wall.

Nick thinks John will comment on the temperature change, but he doesn't. He also refrains from commenting as Nick settles against the wall next to him with his own set of blankets. Nick nearly tells John not to get comfortable, but that would sort of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? What he should do is tell John not to get used to it — tomorrow, Nick's gonna fix that window and ensure that this won't happen again.

There's no way that Nick is going to get a good night's sleep tonight. He can't afford to slip off and leave John effectively unwatched around his family. Thankfully, that's not gonna be a problem — after three tries he gives up on trying to find a comfortable position and settles for sitting slumped against the wall like a kid waiting for gym class to end. He's got a good view of his comfortable bed and lovely, sleeping family, and he's just within grappling range in case John makes a break for it. With how exhausted John looked today, he probably won't have to worry too much on that front.

At first, Nick expects John to lie down and get some rest, but as time passes he finds that isn't the case. John remains sitting, holding the blankets close to him with his bound hands. His gaze is fixed on the floor every time Nick looks over. Despite how much he's improved since they took him in, John still reacts sluggishly, dragging himself through chores without complaint but also without energy. The perpetual exhaustion that seems to come with surviving hasn't missed him, even as he lived quietly by himself for eight years.

Eventually, John lifts his eyes to rest on the bed opposite them. Nick doesn't notice it at first, halfway into a doze himself. When he does, his first instinct is to tell John to knock it off, but John's pensive stare stops him. Whatever John's thinking about, Kim and Carmina are only distantly related — he seems miles away as usual, wound up tight in his own thoughts.

He isn't trembling anymore, though, and his teeth aren't chattering either. Nick can count that as a win, at least.

"Was it difficult?" John asks, right as Nick's about to nod off again. He jumps a little, surprised by the question, confused until John elaborates quietly, "Raising her after the world ended."

"It was never gonna be a picnic," Nick sighs, too tired to work himself into an outrage over John's interest in his family. It's not like knowing about their post-apocalyptic baby-rearing is going to give John leverage. He shifts, sighs again and admits, "Yeah, it was. Not as bad as it could've been if we hadn't had the bunker, though."

For the first time, Nick wonders if John ever wanted kids. The way he'd talked about his past back in the day, the way the deputy would talk about him, well, Nick wouldn't be surprised to find the guy had a slew of bastard children, all of them scraping by on child support and harboring awful thoughts towards their psychotic dad. The idea of John being a father , of having control of and being responsible for a child, it's downright ludicrous. There's a lot to be said about passing on your own traumas to your kids, and John already has a habit of making his problems everyone else's. An actual child of his would probably be messed up before it could walk.

"You know, in a weird way, the cult prepared us for the worst. We moved all of our supplies down there so you couldn't come steal them. When the bombs dropped, we didn't have to worry about baby formula or non-perishables."

John lets out a quiet breath. "If only others were as smart as you," he rasps.

"Or, you know, you could have respected other people's property."

"Yeah," John sighs. "I guess so."

Nick skeptically eyeballs John, whose own gaze has dropped back to the floor. Nick has taken every opportunity to remind John that at least part of the state of things is his fault. So far, John hasn't disagreed with him, quietly accepting blame whenever it's laid on him, even when Nick himself figures he's reaching a little. Nick had assumed he was just doing what was best for his survival, but tonight he can't help but admit that John at least seems sincere. Sure, sincerity doesn't mean much coming from a notorious liar, but if he's trying to play Nick, he's doing a good job. Nick would never have expected John capable of acting so sympathetic.

"Get some sleep," Nick sighs, resting his head back against the wall. "It's gonna be a long night if you don't."

John doesn't sleep. Nick can feel the hour dragging by, and he knows the next one is going to be just as godawfully tedious, but John doesn't so much as rest his eyes for a minute. This time of night, Nick will sometimes hear John muttering from his room, which means that this might just be John's normal routine. He probably stays awake until his body shuts down against his will, the same way Nick and Kim used to when they first started sleeping topside. Nick's not sure why , though — there hasn't been so much as a hint of trouble since Nick brought him here. If he's worried either Nick or Kim are going to pull something on him, then he's being ridiculous. If he's staying up all the time waiting for his brother to swoop in and rescue him from being the enemy's slave labor, well, he's going to be waiting a hell of a lot longer than he already has.

Although Nick drifts here and there, he manages to keep enough of his wits about him to notice when John finally nods off. The nap lasts all of fifteen minutes before a hypnic jerk jolts him back into consciousness. His hands reach up, palms braced upwards in front of his face, then drop just as quickly, and he sucks in a huge breath through his gritted teeth. His head jerks from side to side as he stares uncomprehendingly at the room around him, catching sight of Nick and staring at him with glassy-eyed panic.

"What?" Nick snaps quietly, as if John's nightmare will respect his sleep-deprived irritation. "Quit staring."

John's eyes dart back to the dark space around them. He stares at the bed for only a second or two before seeming to think better of it, choosing to close his eyes entirely.

Nick had never understood the way Dep had pitied the Seeds, each one earning Rook's sympathy in some way or form. He'd had plenty of arguments with them over it, especially whenever John was concerned. Nick simply didn't believe the sob stories the Seeds wanted to spin, and the fact that the deputy wanted to hem and haw over shooting them had been, well, a little offensive, honestly. The only one he'd ever really felt bad for was Rachel, and by the time she became Faith, he'd gotten tired of feeling sorry for a bunch of crazy cult ladies. Sympathy never was something the cult looked for, even while they peddled pitiable lies about themselves. Maybe that's why it was so weird when the deputy freely gave it.

"Just..." Nick sighs, scrubbing his beard heavily. "Relax, alright?" he whispers, "Nothing's gonna jump out at you."

"I know," John replies. He doesn't sound sure about it at all. Frustration wells up in his voice as he hisses, "Why can't I sleep anymore?"

The question is definitely rhetorical, but Nick considers how to respond anyway. He knows that his family is lucky — they have a defensible location and enough weapons that they don't have to worry about being attacked in their sleep. It wasn't always like that, though. The house had been torn apart, and wild dogs were all over the place, which had been especially terrible considering they were about the right size to snatch a seven-year-old up and make off with her. It'll be two years this spring since they started taking their home back, and it's all of that effort and their good fortune that's made their lives safer.

Most of the other people they've met haven't been so lucky. Finding intact, structurally-safe shelter is a roll of the dice out here, so a lot of people have had to rebuild from the ground up. They have to defend against wildlife, arrogant looters and desperate scavengers, and a lot of them have to do it on their own. Even Grace sometimes mentions thieves coming for her armory, and she's made herself a decent stronghold. Combine that initial survival instinct with the fact that John's only recently climbed out of the bunker, and it's no wonder that he's having trouble sleeping.

"It'll sort itself out if you'd just relax ."

John jolts as if being abruptly awakened, not expecting a response and definitely not expecting a sympathetic one. But Nick is tired, and damn it, Rook's pity must've rubbed off him. You'd think sympathy would have a shorter half-life than eight years.

"Your internal clock is shot, that's all. It happens when you come out of the ground. You don't have to be an over-dramatic asshole about it."

He means for it to be an insult, but the nature of the conversation and his own tiredness soften the blow. He can't help it. It's a hard adjustment to make, and he remembers having to do it himself. It had been pretty awful when he'd managed to get back on a nocturnal sleeping schedule and Kim hadn't... mostly because Carmina thought that meant she could stay up all night and all day.

"You got about four hours left until sunrise," Nick says, whispering even though he's definitely woken up Kim by now. "You're gonna need those hours of sleep when we head out to the hangar tomorrow." He gestures loosely with a hand. "Just — lie down and close your eyes. It's so easy a kid can do it."

For a moment, John looks irritated at being instructed on how to sleep, but he doesn't argue the point. Slowly, he sinks down, lying with his back pressed against the wall. There had been a few feet separating them, but now Nick can't even put his hand down next to him without feeling the curls of John's hair. Ugh, they've been putting it off, but somebody is going to have to do something about the matted mess John's got. This Tarzan-slash-doomsday-prepper look is disgusting, and it can't possibly be hygienic.

John doesn't speak for the rest of the night. Nick doesn't know for sure if he's really sleeping — other than his hands and his matted hair, John is pretty thoroughly bundled against the cold — but at least he keeps quiet and pretends to get some rest. The last thing Nick needs is for John to be so weak tomorrow that he needs more coddling. Nick's sympathy is in short supply and bound to run out soon, so John better be sleeping through the exhaustion crazies.

For his part, Nick mostly just dozes, sliding in and out of focus but never quite managing to fall asleep. He's afforded a rare view of his family from the outside, although mostly all he can see is the back of Carmina's head. She's wound up tight in the first deerskin she ever had a hand in tanning, which has become her go-to blanket during this winter. He can still remember Carmina complaining about the smell and almost throwing up when she first started scraping. Nowadays, she has no trouble getting her hands dirty.

It's not the kind of life that he had imagined for her, but Nick's glad Carmina seems to be adapting. Hell, she's more accustomed to this life than Nick is — he grew up out here, sure, but the tamed wilderness of an unincorporated county is a hell of a lot different than the wilds they now live in. It's been a hell of a learning curve, and Nick's not sure he's gotten the hang of it yet. It's funny — he used to imagine his kid scoffing at him for not understanding some new technology or internet fad, teasing him for not getting what the kids were all about. He has no idea what kind of stuff Carmina's gonna school him on in the future these days — all he can hope is that it won't have anything to do with blood or bullets.

The sun starts to lighten the deep murk of the room. Kim rolls away from the windows, throwing an arm over Carmina's shoulders. She might be sleeping now, but Nick bets it's been hard to come by. No matter how much she might have agreed with his reasoning, there's no way Kim's been sleeping for long with John in the room.

Nick waits another thirty minutes or so before he gives in and shakes John's shoulder. He does it gently enough at first that John doesn't react, which at least assures Nick that the bastard managed to fall asleep after all. Should Nick feel good about that? He's not sure. It's sort of irritating him at this point in his sleep-deprived state, but it is what he wanted. At least he knows John will be able to handle working later.

"Hey," he hisses, shaking John harder this time and earning a muffled grunt in response. "Time to put you back."

That manages to get a reaction, although it's a little much. John jerks away from Nick's hand, hitting the wall with a muffled thump. "No," he gasps. Nick can't quite tell if he's still asleep or not from here.

" Hey ," Nick repeats under his breath, grabbing hold of John's shoulder. "Quit squirming."

"You can't," John pleads, trying in vain to twist out of Nick's grip. He's not trying very hard, probably because he's sleep-addled and confused, but Nick shouldn't be fooled by that. He should know better than to let John get the jump on him.

Despite himself, he lets go. John doesn't bolt, doesn't even move in response, trapped staring at Nick until Nick quietly explains, "I'm talking about your room. Just down the hall."

John doesn't seem to believe him at first, his bound hands grasping at each other as he tries to catch his breath. But eventually, he nods once, very stiffly.

Nick waits until he's pulled John outside of the room to comment, standing in the chilly hall next to John's door. "Look, you don't have to worry about —"

John cuts him off. "Don't do that," he snaps, trying to hide the tremble of anxiety in his voice. "I'll do whatever you tell me to do, just — don't."

Nick should push the issue. At the very least to remind John that he's not in the position to make demands. But, damn it, if John doesn't want to talk about it, why the hell should Nick? He barely likes talking about his own problems, and he's invested in how that baggage is handled. John's a whole goddamn shipping container of twisted thoughts and terrible coping mechanisms, and that's a load that Nick doesn't want to carry.

Honestly, he's relieved. As long as John's nightmares motivate him to continue not being a monstrous asshole, Nick's fine with ignoring them altogether. Bring on the night terrors, as long as they keep John docile, right?

"Fine, whatever." He half-heartedly pushes John through the doorway, only realizing afterward that some snowfall managed to drift in during the night. There's a dusting of light powder on the floor around the window, which will melt into an unhelpful slush once the sun comes up. If the room was too cold to sleep in before, it's got to be worse now.

John ignores Nick as he waffles by the door, retreating back to the tarp he'd left behind. Sure, it's still freezing in here, but the sun is coming up. That should keep the worst of it away.

Nick stands awkwardly in the doorway as John crawls back into his bed, a few feet from a patch of soft snowfall. He doesn't seem willing to look back at Nick, rolling to face the wall as he lies down. Which — is fine. Should be fine. Nick shouldn't care one bit whether or not John wants to talk.

"Feel better?" Kim asks, once he's back in their room and crawling gratefully into the still-warm bed. He'd abandoned one more blanket to John's bundle, then locked him up as if everything were fine — because it is. Right? The risk had paid off, sort of, and now everything is back to the way it should be. So, of course he feels better.

Nick sighs with sleepy gratitude as he folds his cold arm over Carmina, squeezing Kim's shoulder as he questions his gut response. "Sure," he whispers, although it's not exactly the truth. He thinks about it some more, then elaborates. "I'll feel better once I fix that window."

"You're being too nice to him," she tells him, although she says it too fondly to be an admonishment. Still, she's going to run out of patience for his dumb ideas, his gut reactions and his lousy instincts. There's nobody on earth with that high a tolerance for dumbassery, no matter how well-intentioned it might be.

"I know, I know." Carmina presses her face into his chest, hopefully still asleep, and Kim's hand lifts to cover his hand on her shoulder. "Your dad was right," he jokes, closing his eyes, "You didn't marry a smart man."

"I didn't want to marry a smart man," Kim chuckles, "I wanted to marry a good man."

She squeezes his hand. Nick's sure there's more to be said, but this isn't a conversation to have at daybreak after a sleepless night. Maybe later, they can figure out how to keep Nick from making stupid, potentially dangerous decisions like he did tonight. For now, there's a chance for a few hours of sleep in a warm bed with his family, and Nick isn't going to pass that up for anything.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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firethatgrewsolow · 6 years

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Mich and Rob - The Christmas Edition

**Hey there, I know you guys probably hate these little asides, but this one is compulsory. :-) The anon that sparked this vignette likely has no idea what they’ve done. Take your anti-nausea meds, bc this one’s over the top. It’s my wildest dream (not in a kinky way, don’t get excited lol). It breaks the barrier in terms of fluff, sentimentality, and downright ridiculousness, but I loved writing every single word. A Christmas fantasy … oh, and nsfw. PS - thank you @ladygrange for being so kind and patient. You are too good to be true. And thank you @waywaydowninside for your jewelry expertise!**

Michelle awoke to the quiet rattle of the glass panes beside the bed, her lips curving at what awaited her. A soft blanket of pearly white covered the ground, and more was gently falling, swirling in the breeze. Mindful that Robert was still asleep, she slowly eased onto her side, poring over the scene. Bella will be so happy. It was exactly the Christmas they’d hoped for, snowy, idyllic, like a fairy tale or a Norman Rockwell painting. Except I’m in Wales now, she mused contentedly. The day was reserved for just the three of them, as Robert’s family had left the previous evening, and Melody’s brood wasn’t due until the following afternoon. Michelle relished the idea of a handful of peaceful hours and perhaps a visitor or two, as the neighbors were wont to do. The calm before the storm. Her gaze returned to the endless flakes dancing this way and that. It was like a fairy tale, but then so was everything else.

Robert admired the arc of her waist, resisting the temptation to trace it with his finger. Her silhouette was so beautiful in the muted morning light as she watched her white Christmas unfold. A rare event, to be sure, but he couldn’t imagine it any other way. He slid behind her, pulling her into him as he wrapped his arms around her. “Happy Christmas, love. Or should I say Merry?” he teased, kissing the spot below her ear that he knew she loved.

Michelle smiled at the comfort of his warmth. “No, happy it is. That’s the right way to say it, isn’t it?”

“Ah, yes, you’re one of us now. Down to the proper surname.” He caressed her cheek, pecking the tip of her nose. “I knew you’d cave eventually.”

“Oh, really? Did you?” she asked, lifting a brow.

Robert cocked his head. “Yeah, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’re right,” he admitted with a snicker. “And you waited bloody long enough to.”

Michelle ran her fingers through the curls that were dusting his shoulder, taking in the lines of his impossibly handsome face. The swell in her chest was nearly too much. “I love you. Everything about you.”

Robert brushed his lips across hers, words not adequate to relay the depth of what was in his heart. His was a charmed life, and he knew it, but he couldn’t escape the sliver of insecurity. What did he ever do to deserve her perfect devotion? And the angelic little girl that he loved so much. Christ. He swallowed back the tightness in his throat, conjuring the closest thing he could find to the truth. “I am the luckiest man that ever lived.” He carefully coaxed her on her back, cradling her face as he kissed her again. Her legs parted, instinctively folding around his waist as she clutched his shoulders. Their kiss deepened, and she arched against him, his body immediately responding. He sighed as he positioned himself, her sweet heat slowly enveloping him. “Oh, baby, I love you so much. You feel so …” He froze at the tapping on the door, expelling a tense breath as a tiny voice called out to them. “Bloody hell, she’s got impeccable timing.”

“So she does,” Michelle replied, chuckling. “I’m coming, Bella. Give me a second.” She tried to wriggle out from underneath him, but he caught her.

“You know, um, if Bella had a brother or a sister, she’d stay more … occupied.”

“Not that again.” Michelle swatted his arm. “Get off of me.”

“Just a thought, you know.” He gave her a little grin, releasing her.

The house was chilly from the long winter night, and Robert set about lighting a fire in the main living area. He smiled blissfully at Annabelle’s persistent prattle as she trailed behind him, speculating about her presents and when she could open them. Logs finally blazing, he snapped on the radio, plopping down on the broad sofa across from the hearth. He helped himself to a few of the biscuits that Michelle had laid out on the tea table, his eyes sweeping over their bountiful tree. It was draped in a wild mish-mash of delicate, glittering ornaments, coupled with popcorn strands and popsicle stick art buried in gold and silver tinsel. Three crayon drawings of Strider in Santa hats completed the picture. It was perfection.

“Can I open them now?” Bella posed in front of him with a pout, hands on hips, her scowl looking just like her mother’s. “I’ve been waiting all day.”

Robert patted the top of his thigh. “We’ve only been awake for an hour or so, darlin’. That’s hardly all day.” He hoisted her up as she climbed onto his lap. “Besides, your mum gets the final call on the day’s festivities.”

“What’s festivy?”

Amused, he kissed her cheek. “Fes-tiv-i-ty. It means, ah, having a good time. Sort of like a party.”

“Like a birthday party?”

“Exactly.” Robert breathed in deeply, having fallen under the spell of the magic mix of charred wood and spicy evergreen wafting through the room. He peered across the mantle, inspecting the array of stuffed stockings one by one. Four of them. One for each member of the family, including Strider, naturally. He gazed back to the majestic Nordmann Fir, holding Annabelle just a little bit tighter. The moment was precious and pure, and he never wanted to forget it. He closed his eyes, losing himself in the scents and sounds as Ray Charles sang about Georgia.

Michelle poured some tea, going over the items she’d laid out on the kitchen counter. They weren’t going to have a large late afternoon meal, as they’d had countless the previous few days with family. Instead, she was trying her hand at a traditional English breakfast, complete with a few Welsh additions. She warily cased the laver cakes, unconvinced that local seaweed would be delectable, but Robert had insisted. Welshman’s caviar, he’d called it, borrowing a quote from his beloved Richard Burton. She snickered, recalling his near flawless mimicry of the actor’s famous baritone. Deciding breakfast could wait, she exchanged her tea for something more spirited, puzzled by the quiet in the air. The soft hum of chatter was conspicuously absent, the only noise being the music from the radio and errant pop of the fire in the living room. Pouring a second glass of champagne for Robert, Michelle made her way there.

She spied them at once, savoring the cozy tableau. Robert had fallen asleep, and Bella lay still and nestled onto his chest, with Strider at their feet. She recorded the scene, enchanted. How lucky they were. A million to one chance that any of it would have ever happened, and yet it did. She didn’t necessarily believe in fate, but moments like this made her second guess herself. The collie lifted his head at her perusal, the tinkle of the collar Annabelle had gifted him, and that Michelle was quite sure he loathed, waking the little girl. “Are you ready, Bella?” Squealing, the child careened off her perch, racing to the stacks of brightly colored boxes sprinkled around the base of the tree.

Robert opened one eye, his mouth turning up. “I guess that’s a yes,” he said drowsily as Annabelle ransacked her treasure trove.

The afternoon passed by like lightning, fueled by an unlikely visit from the Bonham clan, as well as more than a few neighbors. It was an uproarious, happy day full of good cheer and questionable sweaters. Laughs abounded, but Michelle had to admit she felt a little grateful as the last guest made their exit. She dropped onto the couch as Robert shut the door, appraising the space, which was in shambles. Scraps of wrapping paper and Christmas crackers were strewn about, and toys littered the room. The adult versions did, too, in the form of various flutes and goblets, most empty or close to it. She glanced at the clock on the mantle, dismayed to find that it was much later than she thought. The idea of cleaning up became a bit too daunting, and, instead, she snuggled next to Robert, who’d joined her on the sofa. “Nice hat.”

“Oh, is it still on?” His hand glided to the top of his head, straightening the thin paper crown. “Not a good look?”

“So regal.”

“You’d better be nice, or you’ll move to the naughty list.” The singer drummed his fingers on the pillow beside him. “You know, on second thought, that doesn’t sound …”

Michelle quickly cleared her throat. “Bella and I have one more thing for you.”

“Really? To what do I owe the honor?”

“At the moment, I really couldn’t tell you.”

“Very cheeky. I like it. As it happens, I have one more thing for each of you, as well.” He leaned into her ear with a tipsy whisper, “Although yours is for a bit later this evening.”

“I can only imagine.” Michelle rolled her eyes, padding to the tree. “We’ll go first.” She rifled through the mounds of crumpled paper until she found a small box, which she handed to Annabelle. “Give that to your dad.” She lowered her voice, “It’s the thing you picked out for him.” Bella took the package, presenting it proudly to Robert.

“Well, what’s this? It’s not a new sled, is it?” He flipped the gift over, shaking it mightily as the little girl laughed. “I suppose not. Hmm, is it a puppy?” He grinned as Bella giggled again. “No?” His grin grew as she shook her head. “Well, then, let’s find out what it is.” He slowly tore off the paper and opened the box. In it, lay a long, thin chain. He lifted it up, the lightning bolt pendant catching a glimmer from the light of the fire. “Oh, Bella, I love it. It’s exactly what I wanted.” He swung the rope back and forth, finally catching the pendant in the palm of his hand. “Thank you, honey. Come here.” He held out his arms, giving her a gentle hug and kissing the top of her head. “Now, your turn.”

Robert fetched a large package from behind the tree, and Bella ripped through the paper like a child possessed. Michelle gasped as she plucked her doll from the box. It was the one he’d purchased for her on their last trip to Montreux. How he’d kept it a secret, Michelle would never know. The thought that he’d patiently kept it hidden until Christmas made her fall that much more in love with him. She glanced back to Bella, noting her downtrodden expression. “What’s wrong, baby? Don’t you like your new doll?” Nodding, Annabelle picked up the tiny figure, holding it close to her chest. “Why do you seem so sad?”

“Jason got a baby sister for Christmas.”

Michelle exchanged a look with Robert. “Well, that’s kind of true. He does have a new baby sister, although I’m not quite sure it was a Christmas present.”

“But that’s what he said,” Bella replied, her brow wrinkling. “If he got a baby sister, why can’t I have a baby brother?”

Michelle stole another peek at Robert. Highly suspect. “It doesn’t exactly work like that.”

“Then how do babies get here? If they don’t come for Christmas?”

“Well, honey, your, um … dad will explain it to you as he puts you to bed.” Robert cut his eyes at her, and she shrugged. “After all, I’ve got to straighten up down here.”

Robert closed the bedroom door behind him, kicking off his boots. “Well, that was fun. Thanks for the desertion.” He tugged his sweater over his head, tossing it onto the floor as he made his way to the bed.

“How’d it go? Did you tell her all about the birds and the bees?”

“Not exactly. She did get a pretty good run down on delivery by stork, though.” He drew back the covers, his dimple deepening. “Ooh, I see you found the present.”

Michelle ran her hand along the silky camisole of the nightgown. “How could I miss it? It wasn’t even wrapped.”

“It’s really my present, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He eased next to her, toying with the wide, crimson package at her side. “You, uh, said you had something else for me?”

She snapped up the box. “Maybe you don’t deserve it. Maybe you’re on the naughty list.”

“That’s okay with me.” He busied himself with the buttons of her cami, beaming as she slapped him away.

“Good God, you’re insatiable. Here.”

Robert plucked the gift from her hand, peeling back the paper. He began his retort, stilling as he lifted the top. His gaze traveled over the thick, silver links of the necklace that lay inside. They were sort of rectangular with dark turquoise inlay, and very familiar. He picked up the chain, surprised by how heavy it felt in his hand. You know this. But from where?

“Are you okay?” Michelle asked, jarred by his silence. “Do you not like it?”

“No, I mean, yes, I like it. It’s fantastic. I just think I’ve seen it before.”

“Well, that’s a traditional inlay, probably Hopi. You have other jewelry like it.”

“I don’t know.” Robert tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Where did it come from?”

“Well, believe it or not, that crazy little shop in Dallas. Do you remember the place?”

“Christ, that’s it. I saw it there when I was with … when did you get it?”

“A few years ago. That summer in 73.”

“And you kept it this whole time,” he replied quietly, the memories flooding back to him.

“It felt like you, like a piece of you.” Michelle glanced away, awash in memories of her own. “I’d always hoped I could give it to you.”

“I love it.” Robert studied her features, illuminated by the blush glow from the lamp on the bedside table. “And I love you.” He cupped her chin, giving her a gentle kiss. “You and Bella, my most precious treasures.”

“Did you put her up to all that baby brother stuff?”

Robert shook his head, placing the necklace back in the box and setting it on the table. “Surprisingly, I did not.” He skimmed her thigh with his palm. “But I would have had I thought about it.” He continued across the peak of her hip, tentatively resting on the soft swell of her tummy. “She was right there, yeah?”

“She was,” Michelle replied, her mouth curving. His splayed hand was warm across her belly.

“It’s incredible,” he whispered, marveling at the mystery of it all. “Did it hurt? When you had her?”

“Yes. Babies are big, well, compared to … some things.” She smiled at the attempt at humor, but he didn’t smile back.

“I’m sorry, Belle. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, that you had to do it all alone.” Robert swallowed, looking into her eyes. “But I’m going to be there for the next one. Every step of the way.” She shifted, her eyes widening as he nodded. “Yes. The next one. The one I’m going to give to you this very night.” She opened her mouth to respond, and he shook his head. “No, please, let me finish. I want to watch your body change, feel a little kick for the first time, all of it. It’s amazing, and I want to experience it with you.”

“I’m not sure what to say.”

“Say that we’re going to do it. For Bella’s sake, if nothing else.”

“For Bella’s sake, right.” Michelle quelled her amusement. “Robert, I don’t think you …”

“Listen, I make the rules in this house. Well, when you’re not making them, I mean,” he added hastily, sheepishly nibbling his lip. “Baby, I love you. And I can’t stop making love to you. And it seems to happen when we do …” he trailed off, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “So, there it is, darlin’. It shall be done. Tonight. A Christmas conception,” he chimed with what he hoped was his most seductive smirk. “Hey, that’s got a pretty good ring to it, doesn’t it? Christ, just saying it is giving me a bloody …”

“Everything does. My God, you talk too much.” She yanked his head down, grabbing a fistfull of hair as their mouths collided. She could feel his arousal through his jeans, and he grunted as she gave him a not so subtle squeeze. She reached for the buckle of his belt, but he was already there, rolling onto his side to dispense with unnecessary garments, which were all of them. As the pants tumbled onto the floor, she straddled him. “Did you lock the door?”

“Shit, I can’t remember.”

She pressed against him, delighting in the hard length underneath her and large hands encasing her hips and backside. “Fuck it.”

In a motion, Robert sat up, effortlessly flipping her over. “I want you like this. There are some things I’ve got to take care of.” His gaze roamed over her body, lingering on her breasts. “I need you very, very wet for what I have in mind.” Her nipples were deliciously erect, like they always seemed to be, and he captured one in his mouth through the thin, silk bodice, luxuriating in her little mewl. He nipped it, grinning as she jerked away.

“Ouch, that hurts! I’m sensitive!”

“You are, huh?” He slid the gown off and ran his tongue across the bud, flicking it lightly. “Would that be everywhere?” he asked devilishly as he inched down her tummy, savoring the soft flesh along the way. As he reached the top of her panties, he clasped the ties on either side, dispensing with the bows with a flourish. He parted her legs, transfixed. “Happy Christmas to me,” he purred, grazing his lips along the inside of her thigh. “Every time I come tonight … and I intend to do it a lot, honey …” He moved a little closer to her hot, wet center, delivering a kiss and then another, edging closer still. “It’s going to be deep, deep inside of you.” She gasped as he reached his destination, and he gave her a wicked smile. “Just to be sure, you know.”

Michelle trembled as he gently opened her, spreading wider as she felt the warmth of his tongue lashing her most delicate spot. She groaned as he did it again and again, her hand creeping into his hair. “Oh, fuck, don’t stop. Just like that.” She shimmied her hips to urge him on, crying out as he slipped a finger inside. She lifted her head, enthralled by the sight of him in between her legs, only to drop it as he slipped in a second.

There was a hum in the back of his throat as he found the other spot she loved so much. He kept a slow, steady rhythm against it as he licked and sucked, relishing the moaning, writhing mess he’d turned her into. “You taste so bloody good, darlin’. Let me feel you come.”

“Oh, my God, Robert, I …” Her legs shook as the tension escalated into a delirious spiral. She gripped the sheet as it wound tighter and tighter and tighter until she shattered, the rush of the release taking her breath away. She buckled into the bedding, her pulse racing. “Jesus Christ, how do you do that?”

“I think the better question is, how could I not?” Robert nuzzled the slick, tender skin. “You are … mmm, like a delicacy. Sometimes I wish I could share you.”

“No, you fucking don’t.”

“You’re right.” He crawled up the length of her body, framing her face with his forearms. “You’re all mine. To do with what I wish. And, tonight, I think you know exactly what that is.” He paused, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “I can’t explain the feeling I have, Michelle. It makes me crazy. It’s like …” He sighed, searching for the right words. “It’s like I have this need to do it, this urge that I can’t control. I never felt it before I met you, and I’ve never felt it with anybody else. Just you.”

His lips met hers, their tongues lazily entwining. Michelle could taste herself on him, the slightly sweet and salty mix of both of them. The kiss was languid and loving, but she knew what he needed, what they both did. She wrapped her legs around his waist, guiding him as he entered her, the heady pressure giving her chills. She moaned as he glided deeper, taking his time, carefully filling her until she felt complete. They felt complete.

Robert broke the kiss, peering into her eyes and blinking back the moisture in his own. The thought of sparking something at the center of her very core was just … like nothing before. They’d made love hundreds of times, maybe more, but never like this. He’d always assumed he understood the primal nature of it, but, at that moment, he realized he’d never come close. It didn’t feel right. It was right. He kept his eyes on hers as he began to move, her beautiful, wet heat enveloping him. Fuck, everything about her was beautiful. Her face, her hair, the scent of her skin. She was perfect. They were perfect. He picked up his pace, breathing a little heavier, and her mouth dropped open as she closed her eyes. “No, don’t close your eyes. I want to see them when you come.” He pursed his lips, exhaling as he felt the tremor. “There it is. Christ, I love you so much.”

Michelle clutched at him, desperate for more as he started to move faster. She was so close. Again. God, the things he did to her, the things they did to each other. He grasped her wrists, pulling her arms above her head, thrusting hard, taking everything she had. Her breath caught, and she bit her lip as he tossed his head back, pushing gently against her wall. He swayed his hips back and forth, keeping sweet pressure inside and against the swollen, aching bud between her legs. Over and over … around and around. Their eyes stayed locked, neither looking away, not even for an instant. Then she felt it, something different, something deep. “Oh, Robert, I, this is, I don’t …” The words disappeared as he kissed her, tangling his fingers in her hair. Her whole body tingled, her muscles tensing. Fuck, she was right on the cusp, of what, she wasn’t sure, but she wanted it, that much she knew. She began to shudder, emitting something between a moan and a sob as she finally gave in to the mountain of current. She held him as tightly as she could, tears flooding her eyes as the blessed release ripped through her.

He’d never seen anything like it or felt anything like it, either. Her body was hot, hotter than it had ever been, and she was clenching him wildly. He kept her close, pressing right against her wall, exactly where he needed to be. With a groan, he let go, filling her again and again, as lost in her eyes as she was in his. He laid his forehead on hers, mesmerized by the power of their connection and the flame that they’d surely ignited. He didn’t know how long they stayed that way. Time ceased to matter.

Michelle brought her hands to the sides of his face, her brow lifting as she smiled. “What was that?”

“I’ve no fucking idea, but, Christ, I adore you.” Robert collapsed onto his back, drawing her into his chest. “I’ve never come like that before in my life. Bloody hell, if that didn’t do the trick then I don’t know what will.”

She ran her fingers through his damp curls, her smile broadening. “I’m not so sure.”

“You want to have another go at it, then? Not that I don’t already intend to.”

“It wouldn’t matter.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Robert snipped, frowning. “How would you bloody know, anyway?”

“A couple of reasons.” Michelle placed a kiss on the dimple of his chin. “One, women know these things.”

He rolled his eyes. “Bollocks.”

“And two, you already have. Done the trick, that is.”

Robert blinked as the understanding washed over him, for a moment, speechless. “Christ, almighty, are you saying …”

“Yes, I’m saying.”

He expelled a sharp breath. “Oh, baby, I don’t, I can’t …” His hand flew to her tummy. “What if we did something to hurt it?”

“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that.”

“Bloody hell, woman, when were you going to tell me?”

“I tried to earlier, but, ah, you make the rules in the house, remember?” She chuckled at the wide, silly grin on his face. “Are you happy?”

“I’m not happy, Belle, I’m better than that. Fuck, I don’t know what I am,” he whispered, snickering. “Fucking giddy.”

“Me, too.”

Their eyes met, and Robert cupped her face. “I love you, Michelle. And Bella. And whoever else comes along.” He traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “And I will for the rest of my life.” He folded his arms around her as he lay his head back on the pillow, lost in the rush of a love he never knew existed.

#Robert Plant fanfic #Led Zeppelin fanfic #Robert Plant fan fiction #Led Zeppelin fan fiction #Robert Plant fanfiction #Led Zeppelin fanfiction #this may be the culmination of mich and rob #i don't know #if it is it's a nice place to stop #thanks for reading

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smutty-bangtan · 7 years

Text

Midnight Strain (M)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3,112

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Description: After a long day at work, you tried to relax for the night but it seems like Jungkook has something else in mind.

Warning: A little bit of sexting, Phone sex, Slight domme!reader, sub!jungkook, Dirty talk, and Teasing

A/N: I promised myself that I wouldn’t write another sub!member fic again because I feel like it’s hard. But look what I’ve been working on for a few months now. I was hoping to have this out before his birthday but.. lets just say this is a late birthday celebration. Feedback and Requests are always welcomed.

[11:30 pm] Jungkook: Hey!

[11:32 pm] Jungkook: I need ur hekp with someyhing

[11:37 pm] Jungkook: ___! Where are u?

[11:40 pm] Jungkook: Hello? Are u slepe?

Stepping your feet into your apartment made you feel like you were missing something. It felt like you were growing too attached to it and it was unhealthy. However, it felt reassuring and comforting for you. It was your apartment and bed.

Taking a deep breath, you inhaled the scent of your worn-down perfume from that morning and your dinner that you held in your left hand. You flashed a bright smile and felt a little bit of happiness. You were in your second favorite place in the world. Of course, the number one spot was taken up by your boyfriend, Jungkook. A single thought about him, made you miss him that much more. Your face dropped when you remembered that he was on tour but, that sadness was soon wiped away when you realized that he only had three more days left and he would be at home giving you all types of love and affection.

“I miss my Jungkookie.” you mumbled to yourself as you removed your shoes to replace them with your favorite cozy slippers.

Following the path that led you to the kitchen, you placed your container of food on the kitchen counter and glanced over to the freezer door where you could see funny and cute pictures of you and Jungkook, your boyfriend of two and a half years. Memories and sadness filled your mind, but you cleared all those thoughts and smiled to yourself because you remembered that it was his birthday and you had a special gift for him.

Walking over to the refrigerator, you placed your dinner on the shelf to eat later. Before you had the chance to eat, a shower was first and most important to you, followed by Jungkook and then sleep.

Once you reached your bathroom, you started to remove your makeup and tie your hair into a loose bun. You looked into the mirror and noticed how tired you looked from all the stress at work. Working a nine-hour job and having to deal with people’s foolishness and criticism took a toll on you, but someone had to do it. After a long day at work and dealing with different impolite crowds, you needed to unwind somehow.

After you finished removing your makeup and your clothes, you set the water to the perfect temperature for you. Not too hot to burn your skin off but just enough hot water where you could relax your muscles. Pulling the curtain back, you jumped into the shower and let the hot water run down your shoulders and back while you tried to relax your stiff muscles. Every second that passed, you felt your anger and stress lift off of your shoulders. Your mind started to wash away all the horrible memories of your day.

Eventually, you got out of the shower after washing your body and letting the water run on your back and shoulders. You walked into your bedroom with a towel wrapped around your chest. There was a cold breeze that made you shiver and jump into bed, trying to wrap yourself under the cover as quickly as possible.

“Clothes can wait. I'm freezing,” you whispered to yourself as you wrapped your blanket around your neck, to keep the breeze away from your still damp body.

As you laid out in the middle of your bed with your blanket wrapped around you like a caterpillar nestled into their cocoon, you could feel the water absorbing into the towel and your body temperature slowly rising. The complete and peaceful silence was suddenly interrupted by your phone going off with notifications telling you that you had unread text messages.

“Who is texting me so late and why?” you groaned as you forcefully pushed your arm out of your warm blankets and picked up your phone.

After unlocking your phone, you noticed four text messages from Jungkook. You opened up your messages and seen them which made your heart double-over in time.

[11:30 pm] Jungkook: Hey!

[11:32 pm] Jungkook: I need ur hekp with someyhing

[11:37 pm] Jungkook: ___! Where are u?

[11:40 pm] Jungkook: Hello? Are u slepe?

Your heart started beating quickly. The loud thumping started to make your ears ring and your brain started to come up with all sorts of possibilities. It felt as if your head was stuck in a whirlwind of emotions.

Was he okay? Did he need my help with something that was life-threatening? I better text him and make sure everything is okay.

[11:45 pm] You: Jungkook! Is everything alright?

Within seconds you got a text back from Jungkook. You could feel your body start to relax after seeing the message.

[11:46 pm] Jungkook: I’m fine. I just need your help with something that’s kinda important.

Oh! He’s fine.

After reading his message, you could feel the weight on your shoulders start to ease up. You sighed and started to rub your temples near your hairline while mumbling. “I don’t need this stress. I’m too old for this.”

Before getting the chance to message him back, he sent another message and you couldn’t help but smirk a little.

[11:47 pm] Jungkook: I may or may not be really horny and I painfully need to cum.

[11:47 pm] Jungkook: What are you wearing?

You started to contemplate whether or not to tell him. The pros and cons started to outweigh your thought, so you just ended up caving in and telling him. Glancing down, you noticed that your blanket slid down to reveal the top of your towel. You gave your attire a once-over and smirked as you hurriedly texted him back

[11:50 pm] You: Oh you know… nothing

After you hit send you sat back and waited for him to reply. The notification sound went off and you knew he wasn’t going to send just one message. Another sound went off, followed by another.

[11:51 pm] Jungkook: really?

[11:51 pm] Jungkook: dont’ tease a hoerny perosn liek this ___

[11:52 pm] Jungkook: I need some proof...pls?

How could he not believe me! I don’t lie when it comes to my attire.

Taking a deep breath in, you grabbed your phone off the bed and switched it to the rear-facing camera and held it up above your chest. Angling it at the right spot, you snapped a picture of yourself in a towel which solid proof that you were in fact, nude. After hitting send you laid there, waiting in the silent room for the chiming of bells to be heard. When you finally heard it you chuckled softly and read his message.

[11:58 pm] Jungkook: Damn i gues u weren’t lying to me but i wann see what;s underneath;)

Without putting up a fight, you untied the knot in the towel and looked at a few water droplets on your stomach that didn’t get the chance to dry.

After taking the second picture and sending it to him, you waited several minutes before anything else happened.

[12:04 am] Jungkook: Fuck this isn;t helping

Your face twisted up in confusion as you wondered what more could he possibly wanted. He had a picture of you naked to help him get off but that isn’t enough for him? You pulled up the keyboard on your cell phone and started typing your message but before you could finish writing out your message, you got an incoming call from Jungkook.

“Yes, Jungkook?”

There was complete silence on the other end of the phone call. You just assumed that Jungkook accidentally called you while trying to text you. Your finger hovered over the red end call button before hearing a breathy moan and whines of your name falling from his lips followed by a gasp. As he tried to find his words, he mumbled three words that sent your body into overdrive, “I need you.” You smirked knowing how desperate he was to release and how sexy it was to hear him sound very sexually deprived.

As you sat there listening to Jungkook moan out your name along with a slew of curse words, an interesting thought came to mind. It would be kind of fun to tease him a little.

“You know what would be fun right now, Kookie?” you announced aloud while breaking the little silence that was there.

Using a sweet and innocent nickname made Jungkook weak. The second you pulled out the cute nickname, he was at your beck and call with whatever you needed from him. When you called out his name, a faint moan was heard from the opposite end of your phone. You could tell that he was ready for whatever you had in mind.

Placing the phone on speaker and setting it next to your head, you laid back against the mattress and listened to his heavy breathing grow intensely. You already knew what he looked like without even being there, how messy his hair must have been with beads of sweat on his forehead making his hair stick to his sweaty face. As he laid there, his face would scrunch up, which indicated that he was nearing his peak. His stomach muscles would start to contract in quick intervals and the grip on his throbbing cock would tighten. As he laid there, the moans that escaped his plump and bruised lips would be low and shaky with a few whines.

Taking in the possible image of what Jungkook looked like, set off a slow burn at your core. Your free hand slowly slid down your neck and made its way to your chest where your hands followed the curve of your breast that led to your nipples which were perked up because of your arousal. You closed your eyes and rubbed circles around your nipples. A soft moan escaped your mouth as you imagined Jungkook’s hand touching every inch of your body.

As he struggled to form his words, a soft groan was the only thing he could respond with when calling his name. You started your sentence but stopping short just to hear what he would say, “It would be so sexy if–,”

“I-If I was there fucking you r-right now?” Jungkook stumbled over his words in hopes that he gave the correct answer.

There was a brief silence as you let out a soft chuckle. “Don't be silly, Kookie. I would never let you do that just yet.” After hearing you tease him a little, he let out a whimper followed by pleas.

“If I were there, I'd be teasing you.” you softly spoke as you slowly slid your hand down your stomach and stopped just above your pubic bone. “Do you want to know what else I would do?” you whispered as your fingertips drew small circles against your warm skin. A faint whine was heard from the other end of the phone which showed that Jungkook wanted you to continue your thoughts.

“I’d make you watch me get myself off.” There was another pause.

You proceeded by rubbing your middle finger against your slit, starting from your entrance and moving up towards your clit. As you let finger keep going in that same motion, you uttered out a soft moan. Although you were making an attempt at keeping your composure, you managed to continue teasing yourself and Jungkook.

“I want you to watch as my pussy craves for your cock.” you whispered in an alluring tone.

Jungkook spoke up with a breathless tone in his voice “Please, ___.”

Your finger came to a halt when you heard him start to beg again. Deciding to push him further into hopelessness, you teased him with a few simple words. “Please what?”

“I-I need to cum.”

Hearing his loud and needy begging made you feel slightly proud. You knew he wouldn't last long before he lost his control, but it was something you were willing to watch unfold before you.

“But I’m not finished yet, Jungkook,” you stated with a slight pout on your face which was soon replaced with a smirk. “Do you want to know what else I want you to do?” you continued to tease him.

There was a soft sigh followed by Jungkook clearing his throat. He uttered out a simple “Yeah” allowing you to finish your teasing.

Laying your head back against your pillow, you closed your eyes and teased your entrance with a finger. A gasp of air spilled from your mouth as you tried to keep your composure. “I want you to watch as my fingers move around my entrance while I wished that it was your tongue making me moan out your name.”

A low and husky grunt was heard from the other end of your phone followed by a quiet, “Fuck!”

While you laid there listening to Jungkook struggle to reach his climax, you let your finger wander from your entrance up towards your clit. Your fingers slowly started rubbing circles against your clit. You felt as your body started to heat up and a few moans left your lips. "I want your cock –, " you moaned out loud but your words stopped when your body started to feel overly excited. Trying to gain your thoughts, you stuttered over your words and managed to finish your statement, "Deep inside of me,"

Jungkook's loud and lust-filled moans echoed throughout the room which set off a burning and needy feeling for him. The fingers that were on your clit started to move in a faster motion as you felt your climax slowly approach. Moans and curse words flew out of your mouth once you felt your wetness soak your fingers as you continued to move them from your entrance to your clit.

"I want to cum on your cock," you moaned out as your two fingers dipped into your hole and moved in a back and forth motion. Your walls started to contract around your fingers as you ached for more desire. "Dripping my wet juices all over your cock,". You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching, you started to move your fingers in a come hither motion. Your enticing moans turned into passionate whines. As you brought yourself over the edge you could hear Jungkook follow right behind.

"F-fuck! I'm about to cum," Jungkook moaned out. "D-don't stop. Please," he stuttered over his words as he fiercely rubbing his rigid cock. The moans from the other end of the phone started to grow louder as he tried to reach his orgasm right after you.

Shaking your head, you tsked and whispered, “Oh no, no, no, Jungkook. You can’t cum just yet.” He couldn’t say a word, just a whine to protest that he didn’t like the idea. “Stop touching yourself and look at how red and swollen the head of your cock is,” Before getting the chance to continue your sentence you heard his whines echo in your quiet room. You bit your lip knowing exactly how he looks, his nose would be scrunched up and hands out to his side gripping at nothing while his cock twitched since there was no contact made. You waited for it to be moderately silent before speaking again.

"Is your cock still throbbing to release all of that cum?" you whispered in a soothing tone.

Before he could respond, he let out a groan then several whines escaped his mouth, "Can I touch myself now?"

Yes! I got him right where I want him.

"Yes, I want you to tell me all the things you want right now. Don't hold back."

Staring up down at your body, you could hear Jungkook's mouth open and shut as if he didn't know where to start or what to say. Maybe he's a little shy. You looked over at your side table and looked at the picture frame that had you and him in the picture. He looked cute in one section, yet sexy and ready to do anything he desired in the second section. A small smile started to grow on your face as you started to think about memories of Jungkook.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a soft yet determined voice.

"I want you to be here kissing my cock, starting from the base and making your way up to the tip," There was a slight pause before he struggled to continue. "O-once you reach the tip, I want you to lick the precum off. Making sure to tease the slit as I moan with excitement.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you moaned as Jungkook furiously slid his hand up and down his throbbing cock. In between his gasps and whines, you could hear the wet sound of precum and lubrication. Hearing him trying to reach his climax made you feel turned on again.

There was a soft sigh followed by Jungkook clearing his throat. He uttered out a simple “Yeah” allowing you to finish your teasing.

"Are you thinking about me on top of your throbbing and swollen cock?" you quietly moaned.

Jungkook started to cry out from pleasure. You knew he needed to cum soon but hearing his groans grow louder, made you want to keep egging him on. Speaking up with a whimper in his voice, "Yes. Yes. I want to feel your w-wet and warm walls around my cock," he moaned out as his hand squeezed tightly around his cock. "C-can I cum now?"

Hearing his whimpers and whining set off a burning flame at your core once again. Biting the corner of your bottom lip, you smirked a little while trying to sound a little bit upset. "Sorry, Kookie. It's getting late and I have work in the morning. Let’s do this again another day because I had a lot of fun,"

Jungkook whined in protest. He tried to catch his breath but made no attempts at it. "B-but can I cum?"

"Don't let me stop you baby." you said before hanging up the phone.

A smile of content etched across your face as you laid on your bed with nothing on. Thoughts of tonight and Jungkook raced through your mind. You couldn’t help but to smile with pride and joy. You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard your phone buzz a couple of times.

[1:53 am] Jungkook: Damn! Thanks for tonight babe

[1:53 am] Jungkook: and thank you for letting me cum for you.

Smirking at the message, you thought about what could happen when you see him again.

[1:54 am] You: I’ll make sure to fulfill every one of your wishes in three days, Kookie.

#noonanet #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts smut #bangtan smut #bts jungkook #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeongguk smut #bts jeongguk #jeongguk fanfic #jeongguk

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jestbee · 7 years

Text

Of dogs and Disobedience

Title: Of Dogs and Disobedience Words: 2870 Summary: The five times they tried to have rules for their dog, and the one time they gave up.

Authors Note: Today has been a great day and I hyped about the tour and possibly seeing it with my pals. So, to @ineverhadmyinternetphase and @charlottekath who inspired me to write this by talking about much domestic dnp n dogs in the group chat. I am weak and I caved and now this exists. No regrets!

Also, though I never really intended them to be linked, I’ve kind of got a series of dog fics now. ‘Of dogs and something’ fics. They could all be the same universe if you like. Established fan and dogs! Read the others here: Of Dogs and Solutions Of Dogs and Bathtimes

[AO3 link for this fic]

Fic under the cut

Enjoy!

Dan often tells him that he's more badly behaved than the dog. He steals food off Dan's plate, tracks muddy shoe prints through the hallway, and if Dan is gone for too long, bounces around him upon his return until Dan gives him some attention. At least, this is where Dan draws the parallels.

He doesn't seem to mind though. And while there are no clear cut rules for Phil, not really because despite the comparison Phil isn't actually Dan's pet, there are rules for Winston.

1. No tidbitting from the table.

2. No jumping up.

3. No sitting on the sofa.

4. No sleeping in their bed.

5. No going in the gaming room

"But he's just a puppy," Phil argued, scratching him behind the ears and grinning when his pink little tongue flopped out.

"Exactly," Dan replied, crouching down as well and stroking him, "he has to learn."

It isn't that Dan hates the dog. Far, far from that. Phil knows Dan loves Winston, is absolutely head over heels about the damn thing, but for some reason he's intent on having him be a good boy and- thanks to the internet- thinks a constant, consistent approach to household rules is the way to go about it.

There is lies the problem. Because, although Phil is quite open about his flippant attitude towards the rules, he does try to stick to them all the same.

He suffers the cocked head and longing stares as he eats, the wide brown pleading eyes aimed at his slice of pizza.

"Sorry little man," he says, hitching his plate higher out of his way, and trying to eat quickly so that Winston doesn't think he's neglecting him, "no tidbitting allowed."

But Dan. Dan, with his sharp clearing of his throat as soon as Phil looks like he's about to waver, his vocal announcing of the rules at every given opportunity, Dan, is the worst.

Phil is home from his meeting. A pointless one because he knows he doesn't really want to get involved in a solo project right now, not when the second bathroom is still being renovated and they're debating that extension on the back to make the kitchen bigger. He wants to settle for a while, make the space their own, but he'd promised Jo at the management company he'd go along anyway. Network she'd said you never know for later on down the line. He knows that's sensible, so he'd gone, but he's tired now and he just wants to come home.

He knows as soon as he gets in that Dan has been cooking. The smell of food is spiralling through from the kitchen and he's never been more thankful in the knowledge that Dan will have left some for him.

He stumbles through the hallway, kicking off his shoes and placing them on the rack in the space under the stairs and pads onto the cool whites tiles of their kitchen floor. Hand picked, of course, the exact shade of white as the counters because aesthetics, Phil.

"Did you cook? Amazing. I'm famished--" he stops.

Dan is sat at their breakfast table, the round glass one with the chunky pine legs. He's bent over, Winston's tan little body and swishing tail by his feet and he's--

"Are you feeding the dog your dinner?"

Dan straightens up, wide-eyed and alert like he's been caught in the act. Because he has.

"No."

"I thought we said no tidbitting," Phil

"I wasn't," Dan maintains, and Phil pretends to go along with it.

They're both coming home late this time. They'd popped out for a coffee with friends hours ago. It's takes them longer to get into the city these days and they always misjudge what time the rush hour traffic is going to hit on the way back. It means they get caught in the rain, and they're gone a little longer than they truly intended but they're still smiling when they come in through the door, shedding wet coats and shaking out their hair.

Winston is ecstatic. Bouncing around their ankles, shimmying up onto his hind legs, tongue lolling a yappy little bark escaping his mouth every few second.

"Shhh boy," Phil is saying, trying to encourage him to stop jumping, getting caught in his own coat in the process.

"Did you miss us?" Says Dan, his own coat abandoned on the antique chair they'd picked up at that place last summer. The one they said they were going to fix up, but haven't. The one that looks good anyway, a little shabby around the edges but charming nonetheless. Definitely more Phil's aesthetic than Dan's, but it works.

He's bent at the waist, slapping his hands against his knees, laughing as Winston props his paw up there, jumping and barking in time with their frivolity.

"Hey," Phil says, "No jumping up?"

Dan continues laughing, and Phil joins in.

Dan is ill. He's picked something up from somewhere. From going outside he reminds Phil at various intervals, I told you we shouldn't do that. There has been much coughing on Dan's end and much rolling of his eyes on Phil’s as Dan huddles on the couch and whines periodically for coffee or food or a warmer blanket. But Phil is the dutiful partner, bringing him things with only the smallest amount of mocking about his fragile state.

He's on his way back from the kitchen, the mash potatoes and gravy Dan just had to have when he was ill clutched in a steaming bowl, when he spots Winston up on the couch. He's curled into the curve of Dan's abdomen, rounded and he's hunched over, coughing forlornly and stroking at Winston's ears. They look cozy. The blanket tucked up under his chin, the rhythmic way Dan is petting at his fur, comfortable and close. Phil pauses for a moment in the doorway watching the nest of his little family and smiling.

"He's up on the couch," Phil says, the barest hint of a smirk and his eyebrows definitely not raised.

"I'm sick," Dan says, coughing weakly in demonstration. "Leave me alone."

"Okay," Phil says, handing him the bowl.

He strokes Winston's head twice, the pup butting his head into his hand, then reaches to run his fingers through Dan's hair.

"Are you petting me now?" Dan says, poking the fork into the potatoes.

"Maybe," Phil says.

Dan hums, taking a bite.

Phil rearranges them on the sofa so that Dan's legs are draped over his lap and Winston repositions so he can be near to them both. They stay like that for a while, and Dan begins to perk up.

Phil doesn't often go away alone these days. Most of the time Dan goes with him, or they go away just the two of them but, when there is work and the commitments that go with deciding that yes, you do want that extension to make the kitchen bigger, one of you sometimes has to skip the family barbecue and stay home. It being Phil's parents that were hosting, Dan drew the short straw and had to stay home and suffer the awkward encounters with builders.

Phil gets back on the Monday morning because travelling on the Sunday is always busy, Dan and he knows he's in for it because he's back later than they'd agreed he would be.

It's dark in the hallway, and there is no clattering sound of tiny paws on the wooden flooring of the lounge where Winston's basket is, which should have been his first clue. Phil puts his bag down, heads straight to the bedroom because if the house is in darkness, and there is silence in the living room, Dan has most likely gone to bed. Phil doubts Dan would have left the house, but he's just going to check anyway.

The scene in their bedroom has the breath catching in Phil's throat.

Dan's curly head pokes up from their sheets, bare arm hooked over the top, fingers curled into a loose fist. Winston is tucked up under his arm, his nose nuzzled into the juncture of his jaw and shoulder. He lifts his head as Phil enters, face alert at first then tail wagging as he recognises Phil.

"Hey boy," Phil says in a whisper. "I didn't think you were allowed on the bed."

Winston cocks his head and wags his tails some more as if he knows exactly what he's getting away with but that if Dan, the mean one, had allowed him then well, what was Phil going to do about it?

Phil isn't going to do anything, just chuckle lightly in the darkness at them both and contemplate getting a snack before he goes to bed himself.

He decides against it. Disappearing instead for a spell to brush his teeth, knowing he'd only get the riot act from Dan if he snuggled up to him to sleep without doing so.

Once he's in pyjamas, teeth brushed, contacts out, he heads back to the bedroom and crawls into the king sized bed. They'd invested in the bigger one when they got the house. It's a solid wood thing with a light grey wash to it, the headboard an actual thick branch. It's perfect, matching the rest of the silver-grey aesthetic they haven't moved away from since the last place, only much bigger. When Dan spotted it he fell in love instantly. Phil took a bit more convincing, mostly over the price tag considering it was some sort of obscure furniture designer Dan knew the name of but pretty much no one else in the world did (or at least that was Phil's argument at the time). He has to admit he likes it, especially at moments like this, bone tired from travelling, sinking into the soft mattress on a bed that is big enough for the length of them both without hanging off the edge and wide enough for them both to stretch out. That, and he had a sleep-warmed Dan next to him, which is always great, regardless of the bed.

Dan hums a sound as Phil curls close, mostly still asleep, but a little bit awake.

"How'd the kitchen go?" Phil asks, getting as close as he can with Winston between them.

Winston lifts his head from Dan's chest, turns his neck, sniffs at Phil who pets him absently, before settling down between the two of them, close enough that he can touch them both. He lets a breath out of his nose, noisy, sounding like a little contented sigh.

"S'good," Dan says, voice muffled as he scoots closer, mouth obscured partly by the pillow and partly by Phil's shoulder.

"Okay," Phil says, a hand up in Dan's hair, the duvet tucker around them both.

He scratches blunt fingers into Dan's head absentmindedly and Winston sighs again like he's jealous.

"Did Winston steal my side of the best while I was gone?"

"He's not allowed on the bed," Dan counters.

Phil glances down at Winston, a circle of fluff in the space between their bodies. "Alright," he agrees.

Actually, keeping Winston out of the gaming room is difficult for both of them, but with the mass of wires and the many many expensive pieces of kit that could get damaged, they both agree it's best that the puppy isn't running around.

Winston doesn't get the message straight away though, and the whining at the door, the tentative scratching of his claws against the door. It's painful to say the least, and they pretty much break that rule simultaneously and without much fuss.

They're mid gaming video, and the whining at the door is loud enough that microphone is going to pick it up.

"We're not bad dog parents," Phil is saying, animatedly, "But he'll injure his little paws if we let him in, or he'll trip over a cable or something. He's clumsy. He gets that from me."

"He can't get that from you Phil," Dan insists.

"He can, and he did."

Dan rolls his eyes affectionately, but Winston whines behind the door and is isn't long before he's rolling backwards in his chair and opening the door.

He brings him back in, cradled in his arms and lickign at his face.

"He can come play with us," Dan says, "I'll sit him on my lap, he won't get hurt."

"We can take turns," Phil corrects him, "he can sit with me when you're playing."

"Okay."

It's the first time Winston is featured on the gaming channel, but it wasn't the last.

They're heading back from a walk. Winston has gotten really good at not pulling on the lead and he's trotting along happily on the end of his black lead that matches his collar. That's been Dan's input. The bone shaped tag hanging from it with Winston's name and their contact information written on it had been Phil's.

"Oh, you're finally back," comes a voice from their porch as they walk up the drive, rounding the willow tree in their front garden.

"Oh god," Dan says beside him, "We totally forgot. I'm so sorry."

"No worries, you're not too late."

"Hi Louise," Phil says, offering the arm not currently holding Winston's lead for a hug.

"Oh hello," Louise says, ducking down in lieu of hugging him, "aren't you a cutie!"

"This is Winston," Dan says, his voice proud. "He's the best."

Louise tickles him under the chin and he pushes his furry head into her hand in response, licking at her a little bit.

"He's precious," she says.

They go inside, Louise relieving Phil of the lead to walk Winston inside, babbling to him all the time in baby talk.

"You're doing that mum thing," Dan notes.

"Yeah, just missing when my babies were really babies. Terrible twos have hit for the little one and I'm just… well, this isn't the easy bit. You guys have got it best with this one, he's lovely… aren't you. Aren't you just lovely."

Winston yaps once and wags his tails to show that, yes, he is lovely.

They make their way to the kitchen, Dan flicks the kettle on and fetches biscuits from the cupboard, arranging them on the plate. When they're settled around the table, drinks poured and Winston sitting at his feet, Louise gets around to asking about the renovations.

"Well, it looks a lot different in here from the last time I was here," she says.

"Yeah," Phil says, jumping up, because this is the part he likes best. He explains how it was before, what the concept was. That they're wanted to just knock through entirely but the wall was load bearing so they're settled for a lintel, made a feature of it with the spot lights. How they're chosen to keep the extension roof space open into the gable to give it that extra ceiling height, why they'd chosen to put windows in on both sides, rather than just one as the original builder has suggested. He's gesticulating wildly, he knows, but well, she'd asked.

"Don't mind him," Dan says, picking up a biscuit and breaking a bit off, "he always gets like this. He's so excited about it."

"So were you," Phil points out, "Mister we-must-have-the-exact-white-tiles-to-match-the-counters."

"Aesthetics, Phil, I've told you." He laughs, reaching down with the bit of biscuit to an awaiting Winston who scoops it from his palm delicately.

"Did you just--"

"What?" Dan asks Louise, her face incredulous.

"Did you just feel the dog biscuit from your hand?"

Phil scoffs, "Yeah," he says, "Except we're supposed to have a rule where we don't do that."

Dan shrugs.

Later Louise points out when Dan lets Winston up on the couch, when he lets him into the gaming room while they film a video and he curls up in the corner.

"You spoil him you know," Louise says, "He'll run riot."

"He already does," Dan says fondly.

"Yeah," Phil agrees, "We don't mind. He's kind of… he's like us."

"One of the family," Dan grins, looking over at him.

Phil grins back at there's a moment between them before Louise clears her throat. "Um guys?"

Dan laughs awkwardly.

"Besides," he says, "If I can put up with how badly behaved Phil is, a disobedient puppy is nothing."

Phil shoves at him lightly and Dan's smile lasts the entire time Louise is setting up the camera. And then some.

Most days, Dan insists Phil is still more badly behaved than the dog. Some days, Phil counters it with how badly behaved Dan is, and that if he's just stuck to the rules, the dog wouldn't be badly behaved anyways. Winston demands attention and despite their best efforts it's obvious who is really in charge in their house and he often runs circles right around them. He goes where he wants in the house, sits where he wants, sleeps where he wants, and they spoil him rotten. And to be honest, they wouldn't have it any other way.

#my fics #phanfic #phan #dnp #dan and phil #phanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #phan fluff #domestic phan

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