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britishboystm · 3 years

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Yoga Antics | Fred Weasley 18+

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: smut 18+ (minors dni!), unprotected vaginal penetration, male masturbation, kissing, swearing, fluff

WC: 2.9k

Summary: Y/N gets into yoga. Now Fred wants to get into Y/N...

A/N: A little something something while y’all wait for the next chapter of TDWM. Enjoy ya horny bastard!

•••

Stress management was something that you had grown to value a great deal in your free time. Even more so when you wound up marrying a Weasley twin.

It wasn’t that you didn’t absolutely adore your husband. You loved him with every fibre of your being. It was true however that sometimes you just needed a moment to yourself to unwind and recuperate, especially when living with such a hectic personality like Fred.

On the hunt for new tactics to tend to your mental health, you came across yoga, a muggle activity that Hermione had been raving about once her and Ron came back from her hometown during the Christmas break. She had said that her mom got her into it and how it made her stress levels drop drastically.

Admitly, you were skeptical at first. The idea of twisting and contorting your limbs to relax your racing mind seemed ridiculous. A simple spell should have been able to do the trick just fine, but alas one did not exist for such a thing, so you were left with not much to work with.

Hoping to persuade you, Hermione handed you a book from across the kitchen table while Ron and the twins laughed about some absolute nonsense in the living room of your home.

“Trust me Y/N. I’m usually a cynic myself about these things, but when I tell you yoga changed my life,”

She quickly glanced over at the boys to make sure their attention was averted elsewhere before leaning in so only you could hear.

“You would not believe the sex I’ve been having. Ever since I started doing yoga, I’ve been able to do things with my body that I could never imagine even in my wildest dreams.” Your eyes expanded instantly upon hearing her saucy confession. It was very unlike Hermione Granger to be so flippant about something as personal as what her and her husband did behind closed doors.

“Hermione!” You squeaked out as you shot your hands up to your flushed cheeks, embarrassed at the thought of your brother in law and best friend/sister in law in any kind of compromising situation. The image was now ingrained into your brain, an image you could easily do without no less.

Hermione lightly giggled but quickly covered it up with a cough when she noticed Ron and the twins look over at the two of you with interest.

“Everything alright ‘mione?” Ron asked, clearly oblivious to the raunchy conversation taking place between the whispering women.

“Nothing, go back to whatever you were doing.” She spoke, pursing her lips to hide a smirk. He gave her a look that read what are you up to over there? but quickly dropped it when he turned back around to continue the conversation he was having with his older brothers.

“I’m serious though, it has been an absolute godsend. I’m sure you and Fred can both get something out of it.” Your cheeks grew an even deeper red at the thought of what all of that might entail.

“Thank you for the advice Hermione. I’ll keep it in mind.” Maybe you would give the book a quick look through, if you were able to find any time during your insanely busy schedule.

“Love, time to head out?” Ron spoke as he stood up from the couch and brought over his finished cup of tea to the sink for washing later.

“Yes, we best be going. Remember what I said Y/N.” She nudged the book further towards you and got up to pull you in for a warm embrace.

“I’ll see you soon.” You spoke, giving her a warm friendly rub on the back before she went over to the door to get her ballet flats on.

“Y/N, always a pleasure.” Ron came over with a dopey smile, opening his arms to give you a big bear hug.

“Bye Ron.” He then headed over to Hermione, giving her his arm to hold on to as she struggled to get on one of her shoes.

“Only thing I’m good for, it seems.” Everyone laughed as Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked him the chest playfully.

“Oh shut it Ronald,” She jeers before opening the door.

“Bye!” The couple speak in unison as they head out the door, Fred closing it behind them.

“Well, I best be off too. I think I’ve left poor Angelina with the kids long enough.” George let out a sigh, bracing himself for what he knew he would be coming home to.

“Good luck with that mate.” Fred chuckles as he pats his brother on the shoulder.

“Bye love,” George speaks as he comes in for the usual kiss on each cheek with you.

“Bye George. Tell Angie we say hi.”

“Will do.” And then he makes his way out the door, Fred once again closing it behind him. He then turns around and looks down at you, a sly smirk dancing along his lips.

“Alone at last.” He groans before picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Gah! You big idiot, if you drop me I swear to Godric!” You screech out. Fred let’s out a laugh before abruptly bending his knees, pretending to lose his grip on you. Your hand comes in contact with his back with a loud smack.

“I’m serious Fred, don’t do it!” He chuckles again before plopping you down on one of the couches in the living room. He shifts about so he was now straddling your waist. His hair, which he had been growing out, covered his face slightly. You brought your hand up to caress his light stubble ridden cheek.

He sighs out in contentment and flutters his eyes shut, leaning into your touch and kissing the knuckle of your thumb.

“Hi.” You say sweetly with bright sparkling eyes as you begin to twirl his fiery red locks between your delicate fingers.

“Hi.” His soft voice makes your stomach flutter. To this day you still experienced the same excitement you would get when you first started dating Fred back in school.

“Can we have sex?” He asks out of the blue.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his request. Ever since you tied the knot, the mystery and suspense your sex life once had began to simmer. Being upfront about both of your wants and needs became a part of the beauty of your marriage. No secrets were kept and no childish games were played. If one of you wanted it, all you had to do was ask.

“Only if you carry me, ‘m tired.” You spoke, going back to playing with his hair.

“Works for me.” His face lit up as he lifts you up off of the couch and carries you bridal style up to your shared bedroom.

You had to admit, Hermione was right.

The morning after that visit, you began to read tidbits of the book she gave you.

Not wanting to answer a billion questions, you kept the material out of your husband's sight. You knew he would become super curious and make you explain everything to him, and having just begun learning yourself, you decided it was best to keep it hidden away. Again, this concept was feorgein to the wizarding world so you couldn’t blame him.

It really did work out perfectly. Once you felt that you had gotten the hang of it, every morning after Fred left for the shop, you would set up in the living room and practice your yoga.

It honestly felt awful at first. Your body was so tight and tense that you had almost given up completely after your first time doing it.

But not wanting to throw in the towel so early, you kept it up until you began noticing a slight change in your body. Little things like being able to touch your toes or go into a deep lunge were gratifying and it almost became a bit of a drug to you. Not to mention it helped you sleep like a baby.

Fred was also starting to notice a difference. Knowing you were tight all over, sex usually consisted of fairly mild positions that didn’t put to much of a strain on your body. But that one random night in which you were suddenly able to bring your legs up to wrap around his neck as he pounded into you set off alarms in his head.

You had done something and he was going to get to the bottom of it.

That was a while ago.

Since then, you had fully converted to a life of zen, and yoga was your remedy to all of the worries that plagued your mind. Mornings were becoming easier and easier to face as Fred would shut the door behind him and you would pull out your yoga blocks and mat.

And this morning began like any other. The sun seeped through your white translucent curtains which made Fred groan in irritation. He hated getting up in the morning.

He turned over to face you and slowly opened his eyes, watching you shift about and slowly begin to wake up yourself.

“What time is it?” You spoke, nuzzling your face into his bare chest.

“7:15.” He was able to croak out in his scruffy morning voice.

“Off to work then?” You asked, finally looking up at him with this innocent and soft look that never failed to make him turn into a puddle of emotions.

“Off to work indeed.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair, flopping on to his back to allow himself to wake up more.

“You're going to be late if you don’t get a move on.” He smiled at this before deciding to scoop you up into his arms so you were now laying on your stomach on top of him.

“George can manage for a bit can’t he?” He asked as he moved your crazy morning hair out of your eyes so he could get a better look at you. Your chin rested against his sternum as you rolled your eyes.

“Remember last time you tried to pull that stunt? He threatened to hex you.” Fred winced at the memory.

“Better not then huh?” He grimaces slightly, already knowing the answer to his question.

“Well unless you are willing to have your hair be green for the next year, then yeah I wouldn’t. Now stop stalling and get your arse up!” You say, pinching his hip which makes him arch up slightly underneath your touch.

“If you do that again I may never get out of bed.” His smirk would usually get to you but no one could ever get between you and your yoga sessions. Even Fred Gideon Weasley.

“Nice try Casanova, that isn’t going to work this time,” You lifted the sheets off of both of you and got out of bed to take a shower.

Later that morning, Fred ran over to you, pressing a kiss to your temple before grabbing a orange from the fruit bowl and rushing out the door for work.

You smiled knowingly, waiting for at least a minute before jumping up from your spot on the couch and ran back into your bedroom. Never in your life had you been so excited to wear spandex.

Once your setup was organized, you quickly got into child’s pose, hoping to give your begging joints and muscles a gentle wake up. It felt so good that the groan you emitted covered up the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Fred was back.

He had come from downstairs, having forgotten important paperwork he had to fill out for some possible investors. But the heavy package of documents seemed to have slipped his mind for a second time when he came across your arse stretched out in the bent over position.

His trousers tightened almost instantly and his finger had to come up and tug at his shirt collar that had suddenly become too tight.

Unaware of his presence, you continued your late morning with no care in the world. Feeling satisfied, your body moved up into a downward dog. Your lower legs and ankles gasped out in gratitude as you slowly leaned deeper and deeper into the upside pose.

That’s when you saw him.

Between your legs, you were able to notice a pair of brown dress shoes, one tapping away impatiently. Your eyes went wide and your throat let out a squeak, making you collapse to the floor and quickly turn to look up at your amused and very turned on husband.

“So this is what you’ve been doing when I’m away?” Your cheeks were all flushed, partly from the blood rushing to your face when you were upside down and partly due to Fred looming over you in a dominating stance.

“Fred I-.” You quickly tried to cover your tracks. Explain that it was a stupid thing Hermione told you about and that it didn’t matter.

“Hush love, I’m not mad.” He said through a relaxed chuckle.

“You’re not?”

“How could I? You are so fucking fit babes.” Your cheeks burned stronger and your eyes flitted down to the mat beneath you.

“Hey dove, no need to be shy. I liked what you were doing there. What was it anyway?” He was now crouched in front of you, lightly tracing his thumb against your cheek.

“Yoga, supposed to make you feel less stressed and more flexible.” You could see the gears turning in his head.

“Oh so I have yoga to thank for the amazing shagging we have been having recently then?” His comment made you giggle, making him swoon in return.

“Show me more. I want to watch.” God he knew how to make your stomach twirl. His face was no longer soft, but rather dark and naughty. The lust that was connecting the two of you caused your leggings to dampen. You shifted, now feeling slightly uncomfortable with sitting in your own wetness.

“What, you feeling uncomfy? Here I’ll help.” Before you could respond, he laid you on your back and dragged you towards him along the mat, his hands gripping the back of your thighs.

“Shall I take these off then?” He asked, an eyebrow raised in question. He was playing a game and he knew he had already won.

“Yes please.” Your voice was breathy and soft. He aggressively grabbed the waistband of your legging and tugged them down your legs.

Once they were in a wet mess somewhere in a corner of the living room, he bent down between your legs to pull you in for a kiss. Your hands went up to his hair and your legs wrapped around his torso, slightly grinding up into him.

His lips detached from yours and he looked down to notice your desperate actions.

“Awe love, you all worked up now?” He was obviously teasing you. Hell if anything, he was more bothered then you were, but he was always better at keeping his emotions below the surface.

“Want you to show me what you were doing again. This time in your undies babes.” You nodded urgently and turned yourself around, going into a cow position.

His heavy breathing and warm palms on your arse cheeks made his presence very much known.

You pushed back slightly, hoping he would get the hint.

“Patient, I’ll deal with you in a minute. Want to see more first.” Gaining some power, you got up and pushed him back, indicating for him to move onto the couch, giving him a front row seat to what would become his favourite show.

You pulled out every suggestive pose in the book. At one point, when you were able to look over at his reaction, his tie had come undone along with some buttons and his hand was fisted around his cock.

He looked heavenly sitting there, one arm draped along the top of the couch and his head thrown back in pure pleasure. He should have been back to work by now but neither one of you cared.

“Fuck, keep it up love.” You wanted his finish, not his hand so you stopped your performance and crawled over to him, kneeling between his spread open legs.

Without speaking a single word, your mouth opened wide, your tounge stretched out in a plea for his cum.

“You want me down your throat darling?” You nodded, eyes shut in patience. His groans increased and your palms began to sweat as anticipation grew all through your body.

But nothing came.

One of your eyes opened in confusion only for you to be met with him coming off of the couch and pushing you back into the mat once more. He stretched your legs open wide and moved your thong to the side. There was no time to adjust as his length rammed into you. Instantly gripping his biceps you let out a cry of submission and pleasure.

“Feel so nice and warm. Want you nice and wide for me when I finish yeah? Are you going to finish with me little dove?” You could only let out a wail of acceptance as you sobbed.

His drilling quickened and quickened until you both finally were able to come as one, something you had yet to achieve in your relationship. He let out a surprised laugh at the accomplishment before collapsing on top of you in exhaustion.

“Thank Merlin for yoga.” He spoke through heavy breaths.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fred weasley #smut #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley smut #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #harry potter #harry potter smut

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orionwhispers · 3 years

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Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals.

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot

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ultimateluckystudent-writes · 3 years

Text

Restraint

Summary: You and Nagito's flirtations are sickening. Izuru still sees himself as a cure. As per usual, he only makes things worse.

Word count: 5.2k

Content Warnings: Uneven Power Dynamics, Under-Negotiated Kink, Possible Dubcon, Dom/Sub, Spanking, Bondage, Choking, Mentions of Sickness, Degradation, Slut Shaming, Sex As 'Punishment', Slight Breeding Kink, Orgasm Denial, Female Reader, She/Her Pronouns

General Themes/Tags: Despair!Era, Despair!Reader, Sub!Reader, Sub!Nagito, Dom!Izuru, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism

Ao3 Link

A/N: Reader is a slut and Komaeda's a freak what can I say... also I'm sorry for doing this before requests but no I'm not I'm busy writing smut <3

Izuru found that there was indeed a certain kind of beauty to the handiwork of his knots. The candy-apple red rope, the color of the ruined sky, the color of his chemically altered eyes, the color of her nails, the color of despair, looked rather fetching when tied around Nagito’s pale wrists. His green-blue veins ran under it, visible through his sickly, translucent pale skin. Izuru could smell the cancerous cells on his breath alone. Just like a dog! A voice in his head that sounded just like hers sounded. Just like a dog, his own voice repeated.

“Enoshima tells me that your… indecision and cowardice..." Izuru droned as he circled around the uncomfortable, between the wooden chair Nagito was bound to and the edge of bed (Y/N) sat on. Unlike the rest of the ‘rooms’ the rest of the Despair were afforded in their base, which were really much more like modified holding cells, Izuru’s room was fitted with a regular queen-sized bed with threadbare sheets. He didn’t mind the sheets, but he wouldn’t have minded staying in a holding cell like the rest of them either. He wouldn’t have minded any of it.

“Has affected the operations of all of the Despair.” He glowered down at them, the shadows on his face looming even darker from their seated positions. Izuru caught her hands fidgeting in her lap, and how Nagito’s ever-twitching leg began to bounce even faster. “How pathetic.” He said of both their actions and reactions. The woman flinched visibly. Nagito’s leg stilled. “You are both acting like children. Simpering after each other expends so much of your time that you’ve managed to become even more useless to us than before as you fail to complete assigned tasks.” He crossed the room to stand right in front of (Y/N). Though all of his steps were light- in the way only the Ultimate Assassin, or Spy, or Ninja, and or the countless other multitudes of titles he fit aptly could be- or rather, perhaps because of this, both of their throats bobbed with a heavy swallow.

“Therefore,” His voice was quiet, but in the otherwise silent room, his two captives could hear him clearly. He placed his hand on her cheek. It was such a foreign movement from him, so calm, so sudden, that she almost gasped from it alone. It was much warmer than she expected. She realized as he stood over her, his well-fitted suit accentuating the already sharp angles of his perfect posture, his clothes heavy with the smoky scent of the fires blazing outside, his eyes indecipherable, that he was so much warmer than she expected. He thought idly that he could name every muscle in her face that tensed under his fingers. “You have been left to my discretion.”

“Ah, of course!” Nagito finally gushed, breaking the tension between the other two at once. Both of their heads snapped to look at the shaking, beaming man. He seemed to be enamoured with simply the prospect. His arms twitched and pulled at his bonds, but he had no intention of attempting escape. He merely forgot in his excitement that he could not hold himself. “I see no fate fitting more for my dearest- to be left to the hands of the Ultimate Hope- to be graced with Kamukura-sama’s presence, his touch-” He uttered a little moan, his eyes fluttering for just a bit. “For him to have already tied me up like the pathetic little vermin I am… He could truly do as he wishes with us...” Nobody in the room was surprised at his reaction, however, (Y/N) was a bit amused that he had shown his true colors as a fanatic quite so quickly. “Whatever despair he induces can only be overcome by the hope you two inspire by nearly being around me!” His eyes finally seemed to focus back onto his lover. They seemed to warm just by looking at her, a detail that sent an unfamiliar rush through her. If he had looked at her before, she had only just noticed, and was still unused to such… vulnerability nowadays. She quickly looked away. “I can only imagine what you must be feeli-”

“Enough.” Izuru finally snapped. Nagito silenced at once. He immediately schooled his expression into one of subtle pleasure. His naturally heavy-lidded eyes seemed almost heated in the particular situation. “This inane drivel is precisely the sorts of issues we’ve been having,” Izuru finally brought up his other hand, which contained an identical rope to the one wrapped around Nagito’s wrist like the perfect present. “And you’ve done little to end it.”

(Y/N) found that she had trouble looking at the red of Izuru’s eyes or the rope in his hands. Both cultivated more of the sickening feeling in her gut, the overwhelming dread that conjured images of Izuru idly pressing his foot down onto her fingers holding the edge of a cliff, supporting both her and Nagito’s weight. It felt like bile rising in her throat, only creeping further as she caught glances of either. As Izuru held the rope in front of her face, a wordless taunt, she refused to break her gaze. She wanted to rot in the feeling.

“Turn.” Izuru ordered. She knew at once it would be the first of many tonight. Though she had watched Izuru carefully as he bound Nagito, it was nothing compared to how despair-inducing it was to feel her miniscule chances of escaping reduce to less than nothing. Her breathing grew heavier as she felt those sure hands tie one knot, then two, then three, until she purposefully lost count of how many loops there were around her wrists. Every time his knuckles brushed against her arms, her pulse points, she wondered more and more if it was truly an accident. She had never known the Ultimate Hope to be capable of accidents. When he finished, the silence rang heavy in her ears. She had foolishly half-expected to hear praise, to hear the words ‘good girl’ fall from his lips.

“Pathetic.” He repeated instead, sending both her and Nagito’s teeth deeper into their own lips. She felt it deeply, kneeling on the bed, her back to the man she knew held her life in his hands, the man she cared for so deeply privy to every little thing that would be done to her without being able to do anything. The feeling in her stomach had begun to sink lower and lower, though it felt much more heated. She was a fool, but not a naive one. Izuru always knew what he was doing, including what tone he was setting. She felt her own legs begin to shake. “I’m sure by now the two of you understand where this is going. Bend over.”

She obliged like it was second nature. She obeyed like it might as well have been her own thoughts asking. She bent over and stuck her ass up and face into the mattress, right in front of Izuru, with a speed that surprised most of the room. Izuru, however, remained unfazed. He almost seemed to expect it. Her whole body felt hot, displayed like this for Izuru and subsequently Nagito. She knew he could see her panties he could see below her short skirt. She’d taken to wearing much skimpier clothes recently, especially when she began her… affair with Nagito. Despite herself, she wondered if he enjoyed them. He wouldn’t have been the first. She liked it when it was hard for people to touch her without coming in contact with her skin.

“Let this serve as a reminder to the both of you.” Izuru said behind her. She wondered how much closer he’d have to get to feel the vibrations of his deep voice. “None of you have any room for affection in you. You wouldn’t be with our association if you could. You saw how easily she bent over for me. You’re nothing special, Komaeda, she would take it from anyone if she could.” He paused. She didn’t even get to wonder why before her head was grabbed and roughly turned to the side so she was looking directly at Komaeda. His face was flushing, beginning to turn the red color of so many things around him, giving into the situation. Though his mouth was slightly agape as he took the scene before him, he seemed to be at a complete loss for words. She’d never seen him like this before. “Do you see how aroused he is at this? How eager he was for me? He’s much the same. You two are, for lack of a better word, whores. Easy-” He didn’t get to finish his sentence, as both of the other two released small moans at his words. (Y/N) thighs clenched as she tried her hardest not to back her eager body back up against him. Nagito rocked his own back and forth, attempting to find friction against his growing erection. Izuru sighed. “Precisely.”

With no other warning, he shoved her panties down her hips. A string of her slick connected them for just a second, quickly severed with no regard from Izuru. Nagito stopped rocking. He stared, mouth agape, at her now exposed pussy. She couldn’t even tell him to stop looking. She didn’t want him to stop looking. Behind her, she heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling. Once again, instinct took over, and she spread her legs further for him. The fabric of his pants and underwear rustled as he pulled them down just enough to pull his cock out and stroke it.

“Wow.” Nagito muttered, looking all for the world like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow- t- to bear witness to this- to-”

“You will speak only when spoken to from here on out, Komaeda.” Izuru said without even looking up at him. Nagito swallowed hard. Behind his chair, he pulled ever so slightly at his restraints. Izuru rubbed the head of his cock up and down her lips, spreading her slick around. (Y/N)’s head finally dropped back down, looking away from Nagito, as she tried hard to not let any more noises escape her. Even if she knew Izuru could feel her desperate arousal in her heavy breathing, the way she wiggled and pressed into him, her fingers trembling in front of him, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting it consciously escape her mouth.

“Be honest, (L/N)...” Izuru’s words were so gentle and soft that she knew at once that whatever sharp insult he would throw at her would make up for it. “Tell Komaeda about every Remnant’s cock and fingers you’ve had in your pussy.” She gasped at once, her eyes widening, but as the focus fell heavy on what she would say next, denial escaped hers. She could feel Komaeda’s eyes on her, but she couldn’t even bring herself to look into his eyes. Guilt and shame that she had never felt about her previous dalliances before were searing in her stomach. “Not to mention the people you’ve taken on the outside.” All the while, his cock continued to move back and forth over her hole, never pressing any further. Teasing her, seeing how much she could take. “How many?” He asked rhetorically. “Two dozen? More?”

The enticing idea that it was Izuru’s cock didn’t escape her. It was one of the many details that had made her so wet so quickly. She couldn’t believe that someone so singularly powerful and superhuman was even giving her thought. She couldn’t believe that he had taken the time to notice how big of a slut she was. Nagito wasn’t alone in his obsession with Izuru, she was merely better at hiding it.

“What does it matter?” She spat. A cruel smirk that only Nagito could see crossed her face. “Angry they got to me before you d-” She was interrupted as Izuru’s swift hand came down to firmly squeeze the sides of her throat, literally choking her on her words. Her labored, raspy breathing echoed through the room at once. Next to them, Nagito whimpered, but continued to bite his tongue. Under furrowed brows, his eyes flicked quickly between Izuru’s unyielding face and his hand around her throat. Nonetheless, his smile remained on his face.

“You’re actually less insufferable when you’re just moaning.” Izuru noted. Her eyes rolled back into her head, but she couldn’t do much else. The press of those sure hands was incessant. “I might begin to see why you seem so eager to be reduced to that state so often.” He lowered his mouth by her ear, but his voice was just loud enough to let Nagito hear. “I wouldn’t recommend boring or annoying me. We wouldn’t want me to push you too far past your limits, would we?” His vice-like grip only tightened. Though she could still breathe a bit, every second he held her was a second she became closer and closer to melting like putty in his hands. Beside them, Nagito groaned, deep in his throat, at the idea of pushing her past her limits. Too many thoughts were beginning to swirl in his head, and not having anything or anyone touching him to quell it was only making it worse. Kamukura finally released her. She took a deep breath in and coughed a bit. Izuru’s focus went back to her now soaking pussy.

“Now, as I was saying, the only difference between Komaeda and all of your previous conquests is how… inexperienced he is. That, and his crumbling mental state, means he’s developed quite an obsession with you. Isn’t that right, Komaeda?”

“Yes!” Komaeda practically barked, words bursting out of him like a damn. “Yes, yes, I would devote my body to her so willingly- she’s extraordinary, the- the idea of touching her? The idea of her wanting me,” he rambled, drool finally beginning to spill out of his lips in his practically cross-eyed fervor. His chest heaved with his panting. “Oh, it fills me with such an incredible feeling!” He cried. “I selfishly desire her every day, every moment-”

“Enough.” Izuru sighed. Nagito’s lips couldn’t even shut this time. He moaned once more at the sight and his ideas, hips rocking quickly. “You like the attention. It shows. Look how easy it is for me to take her.” At once, his cock stopped teasing her, and finally sunk in. She yelped loudly at the sudden, intense feeling as Izuru quickly and completely filled her. Her walls squeezed around him, beckoning him to stay as his cock kissed the deepest parts of her. Between the look on her face and Izuru’s hands on his lover’s hips, Nagito couldn’t contain himself anymore.

“What an amazing opportunity this is! What a once-in-a-lifetime chance,” he panted. “To watch hope himself and my love together so intimately… ah, you must think I’m so perverted.” Despite his tone, Nagito’s face remained stuck in a blissed out expression, belaying his enjoyment at his self-degradation. “To be enjoying this so… I’m filthy...” He moaned. There was a pause, for just a moment. His tone changed slightly, but it so happened that Nagito was trapped in a room with the only two people in the world who would be able to tell. “Though… some might call it perverted for you to be doing this at all, Kamukura-sama.”

“Are you... insulting me, Komaeda?” Though he didn’t look back over at Nagito, Izuru punctuated his words with his first thrusts into (Y/N). Her noises were muffled by the mattress, and though the tension in the room eased a bit with it, it still hung heavily above her head between the two men.

“Lowly scum like me? Insult you? I would never dream of it, Kamukura-sama.” Nagito smiled cheerfully. Despite his words, the look that he gave Izuru was not with his usual reverence. Izuru’s own eyes narrowed, rolling the emphasis on his words over in his head. With no other words, Izuru’s hands gripped (Y/N)’s hips tighter until the whites of his knuckles were visible and he was sure there would be bruises the next morning.

"Let me make myself clear. This is only for my relief." He punctuated his words with a particularly rough, deep thrust. A broken keen spilled forth as he bottomed her out. "Both from the constant whining and drivel from the two of you... but yes, also sexually." He tangled his hand in her hair. "Unfortunately, my body is that of a teenager’s. It... is filled with hormones that make my body want to breed." He pulled a bit on her hair. She moaned gutturally, fighting with herself to arch into and out of the feeling. His eyes flicked up to meet Komaeda's. "Komaeda, you would not believe how... exquisite she feels... how warm and inviting she is..." Izuru’s lip twitched into the ghost of a smirk. Nagito didn't miss it, he didn’t miss anything. His eyes eagerly drank in every detail of the two of them entwined.

"St- stop talking about m- me like I'm n- not here." She managed, gasping around every other word. Izuru hummed, like he was considering her words, before shoving her head back down harshly into the mattress. His other hand came down in a ruthless slap to her ass, making her gasp, both for air and in surprise. Her hands clenched around nothing behind her back.

"I've got no need to differentiate how I talk to your face from behind your back." Though his face did not change, his tone held a bit of smugness. It was the only indication that what had left her a panting, moaning mess had any effect on him, besides the slight dampness to his brow. "And this is not so much about you as it is about Komaeda." Once more, his tone carried more of his annoyance than usual. "He is incessant. Obsessive. Possessive. And over all a hindrance to the operations of the Despair in his pathetic desire. I was hoping tonight would see a folly to that… but he’s as worked up over you as ever.”

For a second, (Y/N) and Nagito caught each other’s eyes. Arousal that made her clit throb washed through her as she took in the look in his eye. She had never known Nagito to be possessive, as Izuru had claimed. In fact, he often turned down situations that might lead to being in her presence, citing that she deserved better. However, the completely captivated and hungry look would have made anyone feel like they were his. Even without his words or touch, she felt marked as his. Her noises grew even louder. The pride in his eyes, like she was a beloved toy he was showing off, was almost too much.

Izuru didn’t miss this. All at once, he stopped moving, though he was still buried deep inside her. She whined wordlessly, causing him to deliver another hard slap to her ass. She whimpered quietly at it, clenching around his cock, but said nothing else.

“If you’d like to look at each other so badly, so be it.” His voice was even angrier now. If she didn’t know any better, she would say that it almost sounded like Izuru was growing frustrated with the two of them. She couldn’t tell why though. Izuru finally removed his tie and jacket. Most of his clothes remained on, as the motion was not taxing to him in the slightest, but he felt a bit hot under the collar now. He figured it had to do with her body heat. She was very warm.

He pulled out of her and wordlessly picked her up to turn her and face her towards Nagito. She silently thanked the fact that her hands were tied up for once, since it meant it would be hard to pick her head up and look at him constantly. But as Izuru sunk into her once more, one hand gripped the rope binding her hands and the other her shoulder. He leaned down to speak to her.

“Seems you’re lucky as well.” He murmured to her. Her eyes were wide in surprise. Even as Izuru spoke to her, both of their gazes remained fixated on Nagito. She could feel his hot breath on the shell of her ear. It made her shiver as he held her close. “I’m not so bored I feel the need to hold you by the hair.” He considered her for a moment. Her hands were pressed up against his firm stomach. He felt so solid and tall and imposing behind her. Though he was ruthless and unforgiving in his motions, she also knew he could have done much, much worse had he wanted to. The way he took control of her so quickly, so unquestionably so, was what she had been craving from someone every time she had been with someone else.

She finally realized what he was doing. He was showing both of them that she didn’t need to seek another person to give her what she wanted- didn’t need to seek Nagito to give her what she wanted- because he, and only he, could give it to her.

At once, Izuru picked up speed again. She cried out, her fingers scrabbling at the buttons of his shirt, pulling him close, pulling him closer. The sudden roughness made her cry out, the noises broken by each slam of his hips against hers. She could feel the smooth fabric of his pants, still on him, every time he buried himself in her. His hair began to fall down from behind her, brushing her shoulders and sides, tickling her with their silky softness. For a moment, the mischievous thought of pulling it crossed her mind, before she remembered once more that she was tied up at his mercy.

Her eyes focused on Nagito. He was moaning and mumbling to himself, looking lovestruck and animalistic with his wild eyes and hair. She couldn’t quite hear him over her own noises and Izuru’s breathing by her ear. He was leaning forward as much as he could, taking everything in raptly. She could see his erection pressing hard against his jeans, but he seemed to have completely forgotten about it, at least for a bit.

“Fuck!” She hissed, shutting her eyes tight just to get a bit of respite from the onslaught of pleasure she’d been feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck yes!”

“Make use of that mouth without foul language. Tell me, is this pleasurable to you?” Izuru asked, but the gentle, dangerous voice he was affecting was strained now. She squeezed her thighs together, in an unconscious attempt to receive friction on her clit, but she was rewarded instead with a quiet moan from Izuru.

“Y- Yes, Kamukura-sama!” You nodded weakly. In the greatest surprise of your night, you heard him laugh for just a second behind you. Quietly, more of a snicker than anything, but a laugh nonetheless. It was a low, smug noise.

“Mmm. Now admit to both of us, that even with me fucking you right now, you’d rather have Komaeda’s cock.” He demanded, making Nagito’s hips jerk up. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes! It- It is!” You longed desperately to reach out to Nagito, just to feel him, just to touch him, but you were beginning to understand the true reason Izuru had tied both of your hands behind your back.

“Then say it.”

“I’d rather have your cock, Komae- ah- Komaeda-kun!” She practically shouted. Izuru began slamming into her harder when she’d gotten to saying Komaeda’s name. The irony didn’t escape her, that although it was Nagito’s name she was crying, it was Izuru that was making her feel that way. Nagito was always hard to read, but although she couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking about, he was enamoured nonetheless.

“I think we’re well past the point of formalities, (Y/N).” Her first name sounded heavenly on his lips. “Go ahead and try again.”

“I want y- you, Nagito!”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Nagito was panting and squirming almost more than she was. It seemed he’d found a rhythm grinding up against his own pants and thighs. His eyes rolled up. “A- again, please, please, please!” He begged, knowing that he was taking a risk by speaking once more. She opened her mouth, but all that fell from it was a squeal as Izuru spanked her with the hand previously holding the rope.

“I made myself clear, Nagito.” Izuru practically purred as he spanked her again and again. She jumped with every one, but she loved the sting regardless. Each one made her feel a little more used, a little more worthless as anything but a toy for the two men. Nagito didn’t like seeing her hurting, but it pleased something deeply sadistic in him, and he wasn’t the one doing it. The friction was barely enough, but he was getting close.

“I- Izuru! Please, please, please…” She pleaded, beginning to rock herself back against his cock sloppily, not in time with his thrusts.

“Hold still.” He practically growled, smacking her once more before digging his fingers back into her waist. She almost couldn’t take it anymore.

“Izuru, please, my- my clit- please, please!”

“Would you like me to touch you properly so you can finish?” Izuru practically purred. She nodded, noises like sobs escaping her mouth. Izuru laughed once more. The hand on her shoulders let go, sending her falling back into the mattress, before he was gathering her hair and pulling her head up once more. “Stupid little girl. You really thought I had no punishment in store for you?” He continued to slam into her, leaving her too mindless to even respond. He was all-encompassing- she could smell him, feel him around and in her, hear only his voice- but all she could see was Nagito, practically on the edge of his seat, getting off to her abuse. “You really think you’re going to cum? How pathetic. You two are suited for each other. If you’re going to cum you’re going to cum from my cock alone. But as much of a dumb slut as you are, I don’t really think you can do that, so you’ll just take it while I finish inside you. After all, my body still wants you bred.”

“W- Wait!” You choked out. Although the smallest part of you that still retained thought worried about what he was saying, the louder part had flooded with a fresh wave of pleasure and arousal at his words. He made no move to pause, but you didn’t have anything else to say. In front of you, you could tell Nagito was close as well, beginning to heave breaths that sounded like laughs. He was sweating, heated by the jacket he was still wearing, but it seemed like the least of his concerns. His noises were high, breathy, and pleading. More than anything he wanted to touch, to feel anything but the confines of his own jeans, but instead he watched helplessly as another man threatened to finish inside his beloved.

Izuru finally began making quiet grunts of his own right in her ear. They were deep and animalistic, something she never thought she would hear from Izuru. However, as he began nearing his edge, his noises only grew more similar in desperation to that of the other two. For just a moment, all three could be heard finding their own pleasure, before Nagito threw his head back with a sobbing noise and climaxed first, emptying into his own underwear. He wished desperately that he was the one in her, even alongside Izuru.

The other two now took their own turn watching Nagito as he finished, their eyes focused on his trembling, his white locks falling back, the way he rutted into the air in his desperation. Izuru’s orgasm took even him by surprise as he watched, and he seated himself in her fully with a loud groan as he filled her up even more. Her noises now sounded broken and pathetic, pleasure overriding her thought process as she let him empty within her without fuss. When he was sure the last of it was inside her, he finally pulled out and set her carefully down on the bed. She didn’t even complain about the loss, since she could still feel his seed dripping out of her twitching core.

She felt his hands on her wrists, which she had grown accustomed to, before realizing that he was undoing his knots. In a couple of tugs, his work came undone, and he laid the rope down next to her. She still couldn’t find the energy to sit up. He then moved around her and to Nagito, still recovering from his own orgasm. Nagito smiled weakly at him. Izuru took Nagito’s hair into his hands, but didn’t pull.

“Clean me up.” He ordered. Nagito seemed shocked, but didn’t waste time. He wrapped his lips around Izuru’s cock, still slick with his cum and her natural lubricant, and began to lick it clean. He moaned and his eyes fluttered shut like it was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted. Izuru’s nose wrinkled a bit from overstimulation. Nagito’s pink lips moved back and forth hypnotically over Izuru, until finally, he tugged him off with a ‘pop’. He nodded curtly, and tucked himself back away in his pants. Nagito licked his lips, from which drool had begun to escape him again. Izuru moved behind the chair and undid Nagito’s knots before going to redress in his tie and jacket. “Clean up your mess.”

He turned slightly away from the two, listening as Nagito quickly got to the bed, he assumed to tend to her. He looked back when he finished, realizing she was moaning once more. Instead of attempting to help her sit up or speaking to her, Nagito was kneeling between her legs, lips around her pussy, eyes dutifully closed and hands behind his back. Izuru quickly leaned over and grabbed Nagito by the collar of his shirt, pulling him away from his task.

“I told you she’s not to cum.” Izuru growled. “You’ve already gone against my wishes by finishing yourself-”

“My sincerest apologies, Kamu- Izuru.” Nagito’s head was bowed respectfully. “I truly meant only to help put your seed back into her.” His eyes flicked up to meet Izuru’s. They were not filled with the subservience his posture suggested, but instead flickered with his own machinations. “Who better to be filled with your cum than her? The despair of breeding her during such a time means nothing compared to the hope your progeny would bring! If I’m blessed with the taste of the aftermath of your intimate act in the process... well, that’s just my luck.” He practically giggled. “I suppose I’d merely gotten used to not using my hands.” Despite his mad words, Izuru expected something of the sort from him. He sighed, and let go of his collar.

“I’m leaving now. I expect not to see either of you in my room when I return. Let this be the last time we must have this… discussion.” Izuru said, making his way to the door. “Next time,” He paused in the frame. “I won’t be so kind.” With one last nod to the two of them, he shut the door behind him.

*****

A/N: I'm not sorry, except that this is my first time writing something like this w/ three characters so I know it jumps around a lot but eh here you are! Love, love

#nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #nagito x reader #izuru x reader #danganronpa #dr2 #restraint #bunnywrites

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smutty-skyrim · 3 years

Text

Fancy Soaps || Farkas x Reader || NSFW

Pairing: Farkas x Fem!Reader

Words: 3193

Wandering the geysers and springs of Eastmarch, your feet are blistered and your legs ache. You've been traveling for weeks. You stopped in Whiterun for only a day before setting out on your next mission. Life is restless as Harbinger of the Companions. It gives you purpose and you take pride in your position, but there are days when you'd rather be sprawled across your bed in Breezehome letting Lydia deal with your troubles.

The redeeming part of it all is Farkas.

The two of you have been a team for months. It has become an unspoken rule that when one of you takes a job, the other will be along to help. In this time, Farkas has become your closest friend.

There are few boundaries left between the two of you. Your comfort grew quickly, and after an assassination attempt while you were getting changed the two of you decided to stick closer to each other's sides. You began bathing together - never looking at each other, but always in close proximity. If anything happened, you'd be right there.

It began in dead silence - washing yourselves with an uneasy tension hanging in the air. After a few times, it began to change. You'd find yourselves chatting and laughing like any other time. When you inevitably caught glimpses of each other's bodies, your faces would flush but nothing would feel amiss.

These days, you're comfortable being naked around each other. You're used to the sight of his body, even if it makes your mind wander and a heat brew between your legs. You're well acquainted with his broad chest and the dark hair that hides pale scars. You're familiar with the contours of his muscles - his defined abs and chiseled legs. And you'd say you're unbothered by his toned ass and perfect cock but that would, of course, be an absolute fucking lie.

You found a section of land and hot springs hidden away from the others. Obscured by a spattering of barely-leaved trees and rocky outcroppings, it's the perfect place for you and Farkas to set up camp and grab a bath. He's already shedding his armor. You're digging in your bag for a collection of very special items.

When you were last in Solitude you stopped by a beauty store. It sold cosmetics, lotions, soaps and shampoos - all beautifully scented, and many crafted with magical properties. You couldn't walk away from a chance to pamper yourself on the road and scooped up the most tempting products. This seems like the perfect time to put them to use.

You strip, leaving your clothes and armor in a heap by your bag. You take the bottles and eagerly carry them with you, along with a tankard to aid with washing. The dirt is rough on your bare feet but you pay it little mind.

Farkas is reclining in the steaming blue-green water, staring out at the horizon. The first hints of twilight linger at the edge of the sky, peeking between the rolling mountains.

You sit at the water's edge and dip in your toes. The heat from the water eases the lingering pain.

"Hey, Farkas... Remember that soap shop?" You ask, struggling to choke back an impish tone.

"I try not to," He replies with a gruff chuckle.

"That's the one." You smile. "What would you say if I picked up a couple things?"

"You didn't..."

"Guilty."

"Why?"

"Easy. I thought we deserved a chance to pamper ourselves." You reply.

"Don't see much of a need to." He shrugs. "Water's always treated me just fine. Some soap when I need it."

You fight a grimace. "A deep clean isn't gonna hurt you."

He glances upwards and eyes the collection of items suspiciously.

"Are they enchanted?" Farkas asks.

"Sorta." You smile, picking up the shampoo you bought for him. "This one smells like evergreens. It's said to 'enhance physical relaxation'. And we've got a bottle of body wash to split. Elves ear, mint and honey. It's supposed to remedy wounds, soften skin, and leave you feeling uh..." You glance at the fine print handwritten on the label. "Wonderfully Revitalized."

He stifles a laugh. There's a sparkle in his pale eyes when he smiles. "I think I'm all set."

Your lips twist into a pout. You're deflating, but you're not willing to give up yet.

"Just let me wash your hair. If you're not relaxed by the end of it, I won't make you suffer though this ever again." You say, popping open the bottle and holding it out for him to sniff.

He takes a whiff and pauses. After silently weighing options he replies, "Alright. For you."

You sit on the ground behind Farkas, legs dangling into the water. He sits in front of you, leaning against your shins with his head tilted back, waiting for you to begin.

You fill the tankard with water and pour it along his hairline. It runs slick off the grease. Frowning, you repeat the action. You run your hands through his locks, encouraging the liquid deeper.

Once they're properly saturated you pour the shampoo into your hands. It smells of fresh cut wood and pine and its translucent amber color is reminiscent of tree sap.

You lather it into his hair. As your fingertips massage his scalp, he sighs. The bubbles begin to froth beneath your hands. You massage the skin and comb through his hair. He relaxes into your touch.

The soap trails down his neck. Slowly, his shoulders sink. His eyes close and his face softens.

Satisfied with your work, you take the tankard and refill it with the warm water. You use it to wash away the shampoo. The suds run down your legs and you feel the ache in your calves begin to soften.

You use your fingers to work out the last of the soap and squeeze the excess water from his hair.

Finally complete, you lean back.

"So, how was it?" You ask.

Hesitantly, he sits back up. He blinks away the beginnings of sleep in his eyes and his lips curl into a smile. "That was... Nice... Is there enough for you?"

"I bought a juniper one. The lady said it would go nice with the soap. It's for 'relaxation and grounding'." You take the bottle and open it for a sniff. It's piney with a hint of peppery spice lingering in the background.

"Hand it over." Farkas says.

"Wait, really?"

"Sure. Give me the bottle and get in."

You do as he says, slipping into the water and sitting cross legged in front of him. As the heat soaks into your bones, you feel your muscles loosen. The tension begins to melt away.

Farkas kneels behind you, and you lean your head back in preparation.

He pours the warm water over your hairline, allowing it to run down into your locks. He repeats the motion, soaking your hair until it clings to your neck. You close your eyes and relax into the sensation of the water rolling down your back.

He pauses to ready the shampoo.

He slathers the cool mixture on top of your head and begins to work it in with calloused fingers. He massages along your forehead and down to your temples, then up toward your crown. He slips his hands beneath your hair to the base of your neck, where salt and sweat cling. Bubbles rise with his work. The sweet evergreen spice of the juniper is more pronounced.

The concoction's effects are swift, and soothe your weary muscles. The tension eases out of your worn body. You become aware of the areas in which it lingers. You roll your shoulders and massage your thighs with your knuckles to dispel it. With the aid of the near-potion, it's quickly whisked away.

He lathers your hair, taking the time to scrub away the weeks of grease and grime coating it. It's far too rare that you get to properly clean it like this. Shampoo is a rarity on the road, let alone any kind good. What you're experiencing here in this hot spring is a luxury like no other, you're sure of it.

You're jolted from your thoughts by something brushing against your back.

You jump.

Farkas laughs.

"Get a little lost?" He asks, stroking your hair and soothing your racing heart. "That was just me."

A hand on your shoulder eases you back into comfort.

"Don't move." He instructs.

The water behind you is disturbed as he turns around. You hear another cork pop - the body wash. There's the rubbing of palms, and two firm hands on your back. They move in circles. The minty cool suds linger on your skin. The faint herbal smell of the elves ear lingers with the sweet of the honey.

"You've needed to relax for a while, huh?" He asks, thumbs working the muscles of your shoulder blades.

"I barely remember what that word means." You sink into his touch. A soft sigh leaves your parted lips.

"That makes two of us." He brings the soap up toward your neck and kneads the tightness. "Let's see if we can figure it out."

A moan escapes you as he hits a tender spot.

With the aid of the soap, your aches begin to find relief. A small gash on your side seems to mend beneath the runoff.

His hands travel down to your biceps. They rub the tender skin. Your cuts and bruises patch themselves under his palms.

He pauses for another handful of body wash, and you feel him circle in front of you. He casts a shadow through your eyelids that reminds you of his presence.

His fingertips tuck the stray hairs clinging to your forehead behind your ear. Your lips curl into a smile.

The backs of his knuckles trail down your cheek, along your jawline and linger under your chin. He tilts your head upward.

You feel breath hot against your lips.

Your eyes flutter open.

Farkas is close - his piercing silver eyes bearing down on you and lighting a fire in your gut.

"Close your eyes," he says with a low rasp, "I'm not done yet."

With flushed cheeks, you let your eyelids fall shut.

His fingers trail down your throat and along your collarbone. They brush along your chest, wiping away the dust of the road and steadily dipping lower.

You take an uneven breath. Steeling yourself, you lean back, displaying your chest for the pleasure of his wandering hands. They slide down and palm your breasts. He runs his thumb briskly across your nipple, your skin slick from the soap. You bite back a moan.

He repeats the motion, pressing firmer. Your nipple is pert under his touch. A new tension begins to grow between your legs.

"Farkas..." You whimper, nearly startled by the sound of your own voice. In the dark - in the midst of the sensation - it sounds booming.

His hands slip to your ribs and guide you up onto your knees. "Follow my lead..." He instructs. He navigates you backwards and to the right, until you're in water that reveals your pussy. Small ripples lap against your thighs just inches below.

His soapy hands roam down your sides. They caress your thighs and move back to your ass. He takes a handful in his sizable grasp and groans. He squeezes it, admiring the supple flesh. You gasp as his other hand moves to your other cheek. Eager fingers exploring your body slip toward your anus, brushing the sensitive skin and sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

The ache grows stronger. You long for the ache of his touch on your cunt - of the feeling of his fingers rubbing against you.

"Please," you manage through a breath.

Curious hands slip forward. One lingers on your hip, massaging the tender area that makes you squirm. The other wanders to your pussy.

He ghosts his fingers along your outer labia. You quiver beneath his touch. You work to steady your breathing.

He slips a digit into your folds. It runs back and forth, hitching your breath, before inching slowly forward.

He gently caresses your clit. A surge of pleasure rolls through your body. He flicks it with a barely there touch. You try and press your hips down against him for more friction.

He pulls back.

You whine and needily rub your thighs together.

"Sit on the edge." He commands with a steely voice. It tightens the knot in your gut.

You open your eyes and are disoriented by the returning world. Colors seem vivid, though night rapidly approaches. Blackened pines tower around you, as does Farkas, looming above. He kneels in the water, with well muscled legs guiding your eyes up to his tapered hips. His cock stands proudly out of the water. It's the first time you've seen it erect, and it's above average length with imposing girth.

"Go on. Sit." He says, gentler.

You nod, and perch yourself on the ledge where the land meets the water. Stray dust from the ground clings to your ass. He pays it little mind as he pushes your legs apart.

On his knees he leans forward, peppering feather light kisses down your chest and belly. Stubble tickles your skin, sensitive and set alight from the teasing.

His hands hook behind your thighs and push you back lightly. He tilts your hips so your pussy his better on display. You prop yourself up on your elbows to observe the man between your legs.

Farkas has a hunger behind his eyes. His breathing is ragged as he leans down and takes your cunt in his hot mouth. An eager tongue runs along your slit. You press the back of your hand to your mouth in an attempt to silence a moan.

He turns his attention to your clit. He gives it a long lick, and a pause. Then, he repeats the motion. He draws out each movement until you're writhing in his grasp. He moans against your skin, burying his face into your pussy eagerly. Zealous, messy gestures shift to steady, purposeful circles.

Your thighs tighten around his head. His stubble is rough on the inside of your thighs, forcing your attention to remain on the man fervently working your desperate cunt. You tangle your fingers in his dark hair - locks soft to the touch.

He grunts. Water splashes as he thrusts his hips forward. He laps at your clit ravenously. His growls reverberate through the nerves. He leads you closer to the edge. The feeling winds into ball, tightening rapidly. His hands are unyielding on your thighs with fingertips threatening to bruise.

You reach your climax. Your moans echo into the night. Your legs wrap tight around his head, holding him close as you ride out your orgasm against his lips.

He slows his motions as you come down.

You release him from your legs and lower them to his sides, dangling your feet in the soothing water. The steam soothes goosebumps rising on your calves.

"Feeling more relaxed?" He chuckles, sitting back on his heels. He licks your fluids from his mouth.

"A bit," you reply in a dreamy haze, "but I think we still need to do something for you."

"I have an idea for that." He says. His hands behind your legs tighten and he pushes you onto your back. You yelp lightly as air escapes your lungs. He looms over you with a knee on the solid ground, and his other leg in the water. "All you gotta do is ask."

"Please," You spread your legs wider for him.

"Please what?" He asks, pushing you further back and better revealing your dripping wet cunt.

"Please fuck me," Your tone verges on pleading, "I need your cock."

"Since you've been a good girl..." His voice is low and gruff. He spits in his palm and rubs it on his cock, lubricating the length. He grumbles as his fingers roam his shaft. You tremble in anticipation.

His head rests at your entrance. Experimental hips thrust back and forth, grinding his tip against your waiting hole.

"I've been waiting so long for this," he sighs, slipping the head in slowly, "always imagined what this would feel like..."

You stretch as he enters you. It takes a moment to accommodate his girth. He groans, savoring the feeling of your walls around him.

"You're tight..." He says through a clenched jaw. With a thrust, he fills you to the hilt.

You squeeze softly with your pussy and elicit a growl from the man.

He rolls his hips, pelvis bucking against your clit as he grinds into you. His thick cock sends pleasure shooting through your hips. It crawls up your spine and curls your toes. Rivulets of water run from his hair down his chest, drawing your eyes to the sculpted contours of his muscles.

Smiling, your breaths turn to gasps. Soft mewls escape your lips despite yourself.

"So wet..." He mumbles. His pace grows faster. You hear the slick sound of his cock pounding into you above the lapping of the water with his motions.

"Farkas... You feel so good." Your palm clamps over your mouth to mute another needy moan. His cock rams against a sensitive spot. The pleasure could overwhelm you. You feel your pussy spasm around his length.

"Cum for me." He commands.

His words nearly tip you over the edge. Your dangling by a thread, with heaving breaths and hands desperately grasping at the soil.

"Cum for me."

The tension releases, and bliss overtakes you. His name escapes as a sob. Waves of pleasure course through you with each rock of his hips.

Your walls convulse.

His movements grow erratic.

At the sensation, and the sound of your wanton gasps, he cums. He utters an animalistic growl, nails digging into your thighs as your twitching cunt milks the hot seed from his cock. He rides his orgasm out, skin bucking against your sensitive clit. The feeling nearly brings you to another climax.

Panting, he releases your legs.

They fall unceremoniously into the water, sending droplets raining down upon your thighs and stomach alongside the excess drops of cum Farkas shakes from his cock.

The world begins to come back into focus. Above you is the sky, painted purple with the settling hues of night. Twinkling stars and marbled moons look down on you, as does Farkas. He stands in the water at your feet with a grin on his face.

"Relaxed." He repeats the word with satisfaction.

"Yeah..." You reply lazily. Thoughts begin to resurface in the still that has overtaken your brain. In the swirling medley you catch one detail: "You know, we still need to wash you."

He sighs and sits in the water, splashing down in defeat. "Is there gonna be any more of that?"

"Only if you'd like."

He chuckles. "If I have it my way you'll be moaning my name for the rest of the night."

You smile, a heat rekindled between your thighs. "Guess we better put that one to the test."

#farkas #the companions #skyrim #the elder scrolls #tesv #tes v skyrim #skyrim smut #x reader smut #x reader oneshot #smut oneshot #reader insert smut

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tatooedlaura-blog · 3 years

Text

Interim

set somewhere around Unrequited, that interim time when fighting fear in the daylight is one thing but battling it alone in the dark is another ...

Our Moment Chapter 1: Five Words (post-Leonard Betts) Chapter 2: Sidebar Nonsense (post-Memento Mori) Chapter 3: Interim (floating somewhere around Unrequited)

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

It had been a longer case than normal, draining in every sense of the word: physically, mentally and emotionally, but they were almost there, he could feel it. Finally seeing a connection, everybody moved, organized chaos, Mulder and Scully amongst the throng of officers storming the building, guns out, ready for anything.

As with everything they ever did, it wasn’t easy. The suspect ran, hid, fired, threatened, ran again, fired some more, was finally taken down by one of the local cops but there was a foot chase first, that had them all running, searching, wishing his ass would just collapse and die in the middle of the street.

But it was done and sooner rather than later, they were de-briefing in the conference room, getting their paperwork in order. Looking around for Scully, to ask her what his writing said, he saw a glimpse of her back as she disappeared out the door. Usually she would have said something about going so, instead of letting her be, which she probably wished he would, he stood to follow, excusing himself from the talking crowd.

Scanning the front parking lot, he didn’t see her but deciding he might as well enjoy the unseasonable warmth of a Tennessee winter, he turned left, following the sidewalk around the building. Another turn left and he spotted her, sitting on the hood of their rental, facing away, small, hidden by a sea of police vehicles and employee parked Fords and Chryslers. He measurably widened his stride when he noticed her hand held up to her face.

He could see the blood dripping from between her fingers and down onto the pavement. Making it to her side, he pulled out one of several handkerchiefs he’d taken to carrying in his pockets and held it out to her, “take this.”

They had a routine, he helped, she let him.

It wasn’t long before the handkerchief saturated, Mulder touching her shoulder, “I’ll be back in a second with something else.” Seeing her nod, he ran back to the front door, asking calmly for some towels and getting them almost immediately, thanks to the helpful front desk officer and his mad organizational skills. Heading back Scully’s way, he was breathing heavy by the time she took his offering and dropped the soggy handkerchief to the ground. “Is it slowing down any?” Muffled ‘yes’ reached his ears but behind the wadded green towel obscuring half her face, he saw her skin sallow, white and translucent, veins beneath a blue map of fear. Now in front of her, he rested his hands on her thighs, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, smelling the iron tang of blood four inches below his nose, “do you want to go to the hospital?”

“Probably but I’d really rather just lay down for a few minutes, then get some orange juice or something, anything with some sugar in it.”

One last kiss and he pulled away, hand off thigh and up to towel, holding it for her so she could put her arms down, which she was grateful for. Every few seconds he’d move and check, finally finding the flow had slowed to a trickle, then finally stopped all together. Gently wiping away the smears from her chin, “I need maybe another half hour inside, then we can go or I can drop you at the hotel and come back.”

Desperately wanting a bed, she shook her head, “if you could just go find me something to eat, I’ll stay out here and wait for you.”

As he held her elbow, watched her slide from car to ground, “are you sure you don’t want a hospital?”

“I really don’t but thank you.”

“Fair enough.” Soon, she was settled in her seat, tilted back, coat near in case she got cold, “I’ll be back in a few. Don’t go anywhere.”

Eyes already shutting, “I won’t.”

&&&&&&&&&&

Tossing out the browning handkerchief, he carrying the clean towel he still had back to the station, having left the other with Scully. Handing it back to the officer, “thank you. I think we’ll need to keep the other one so if you’ll let me know what I owe you for it, I’d appreciate it.”

Shaking his head, “they’re just shop towels. We have boxes of them in the back.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you need any help out there? Something happen with your car?”

Another shake of his head, “no, we’re fine but thanks.”

Mulder then headed back towards the room of officers, finding the meeting over and the chief watching him approach, “everything all right? I saw your partner go, then you.”

Needing to be blunt because she wouldn’t be back in to help them finish, “I’d like to keep this quiet but Agent Scully has a medical condition that caused severe nosebleeds and she felt one coming on so she left. She’s out in the car now and I need to get her some juice first, then I’ll be back to finish up our end of the paperwork.”

Everyone had been cooperative, treating them well and even now, instead of irritation, the chief showed genuine concern, “is she alright now? Do you need to take her to the hospital?”

Looking around quickly, “she actually has cancer and the most the hospital could do would give her some juice and remind her that this kind of thing will happen.”

The chief liked the pair of them and crossing his arms, attentive, “is she getting treatment?”

Mulder really didn’t want to talk about this anymore, his mind divided between juice, Scully, paperwork, and Scully, “she is but with her type of tumor, surgery isn’t an option and the treatments aren’t doing much.” Needing to extract himself before he began sobbing in the large man’s arms, he inhaled slowly, “but we deal with it. Do you have anything I can take out for her?”

Having lost his wife to cancer several years ago, the chief recognized the look in Mulder’s eyes and knowing to end the conversation, he nodded, “come with me.”

Soon, Scully had her juice and crackers, Mulder returning inside yet again, this time determined to finish everything in under 30 minutes. As he watched Scully drink, he could see her color wasn’t returning as quickly as it should and the vacant look in her eye told him to hurry the hell up.

Thirty-four minutes later, he was shaking hands with the chief, accepting the man’s ‘good luck and God bless’ before leaving for the last time, opening the driver side door and driving off, his partner asleep in the seat beside him and even though he would never tell a soul, he actually checked to make sure she was breathing before anything else.

That action would haunt his sleepless nights for weeks to come.

She stirred once the car hit a pothole and looking up at his, blinking, “are you done?”

“Yeah. I’m going to pick us up some food first, then I’ll get you home.”

“I’d like a cheeseburger, if possible.”

Bag of food in hand 10 minutes later, Scully was nearly asleep again by the time they got to the hotel. Getting out of the car, she stumbled her way directly to her door, leaving behind bag, coat, shoes, and food. Smiling as he gathered their things, he followed her through her still open room door, shutting it with his foot, “do you want to change first or eat?”

“Eat, please.” Holding her hand out, “sorry. I didn’t even think to grab the bag. I just thought door and bed.”

“I’m keeping track. Once you get better, you’ll be my slave for a few weeks and we’ll call it even.” Saying it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, he handed her a napkin, “you’re gonna need this.”

Dinner was quick, inhaled more than chewed, Scully unfocused as she chewed, her body exhausted, her mind slow enough to allow sleep if she could just lay down. Halfway through her second burger, she suddenly put it down, “I need to go to sleep.” Mulder tossed her the pajamas from the top of her luggage and after quick changing in the bathroom, door open, who cared, she crawled under the covers, apologizing as she went, “I’m sorry. I just … I need to lay down.”

“It’s fine.” Continuing to eat at the small table, “I’ll clean this up when I’m done and go back to my room but I’d like to leave the door between us open, if that’s all right? If you need anything, you can just yell for me.”

She was already halfway to dreaming but pretty sure she mumbled ‘okay’, she stopped caring, her muscles relaxing, finally, horizontal so much better than vertical.

Good to his word, he ate, cleaned up, covered her better with her blankets, kissed her twice on the forehead, then disappeared next door, opening the door between their rooms enough to hear her but not enough to disturb with the light of the TV.

&&&&&&&&&&

Her clock read 11:52pm when she woke up. Groggy math concluded she’d been asleep for about five hours and rolling over, she saw the adjoining door open as promised, faint light fluttering from some late-night B-movie Sci-Fi flick no doubt. She tried to go back to sleep, but a restlessness had settled, her mind beginning to churn with thoughts she didn’t want and emotions she didn’t need. Another glance at the clock told her she’d killed six minutes.

God-dammit.

Standing, she shuffled her way over to the adjoining door, pulling her side open more, then slowly pushing his, standing for a moment, watching him read the book propped on his vee’d knees. Leaning on the frame, bringing back a rush of memories from their first night together, years ago, running request submitted and denied in the middle of the Oregon wilderness, she cleared her throat, causing him to turn in her direction but not startle, which she would question at another time. Once he’d focused in on her in the darkness, she asked quietly, “want to go for a drive?”

He was having the same flashbacks and tilting his head at her, “you okay?”

“Can we just … I want to get out of here for awhile … ignore my brain …” head now against the frame, “I woke up and now … … … yeah.”

Tossing his book to one side, he stood, grabbing his wallet and keys, “let’s go.”

She loved that he didn’t ask anything, didn’t inquire, didn’t turn loose his psychology degree on her midnight suggestions, but instead, reached for her back and held the door.

“Any destination in mind?”

Settling into the passenger seat, shoes off, feet tucked under her, crisscross style, “anywhere but here.”

“Midnight wandering. Excellent.”

They drove in their typical silence, comfortable, comforting, depending on Scully’s frame of mind, for almost ten minutes before Mulder reached over, tapping her thigh, “how’s your head?”

“Attached.” Eyeing his hand, now dangling over the console, fingers still easily within tapping range, “nose is stuffy but the taste in the back of my throat is gone, so that’s something.”

Finger against her again, this time fingernail catching on the fuzzies of her flannel pants, “you scared me. A lot.”

Left hand shifting so she could stoke his knuckles, weaving in and around them in soft, satin fashion, “I’m sorry. I was doing fine. I felt fine until it just … happened.”

Hand finally moved enough to squeeze her knee, both shocked at his action and both wanting him to stay, “just … don’t do it again, okay?” Now he slid his hand over to wedge in at the bend behind her knee, “fingers are cold.”

They were most definitely not cold.

Another five in quiet, Mulder shifting to get more comfortable, left hand lightly on the wheel, right hand firmly on her and she returned to his knuckles, ventured to that little round nubbin’ bone in his wrist at times, until, “what will I have to do while I’m your slave? Are you going to make me clean your bathroom and feed your fish? Or will it be more of a Princess Leia thing? Gold bikini, ball and chain, looking hot in the corner when your friends come over?”

How he didn’t crash, he would never know, “do you own a gold bikini?”

“Like I’m going to answer that.”

Genuine grin out the windshield, “I think it’ll be more that I’ll make you watch movies with me and go play miniature golf and maybe, just maybe, I’ll force you to go to dinner with me.”

“Oh, the perils of slavedom in Mulderworld.” Resting her head back against the seat, “huh. Did you realize,” reaching her hand to the ceiling, pushing a panel back, “that we have a moonroof.”

Quick glance up, “I did not. I wonder if I paid extra for that.”

“The Bureau may have and I’m okay with that.” Studying the sky above, “I’m thinking that we should find a nice, quiet sideroad and turn the car off and open this up and see what there is to see.”

Giving her leg another squeeze, “I believe when I was sixteen, that was the line I used to get to second base.”

“I’ve always enjoyed baseball.”

He looked at her, face turned up still, smile faint but there, “how can you still shock me after all this time?”

“I’m amazing.”

Finding the sideroad and turning, “I’ve known that since the beginning.”

Her smile grew wider as he turned off the car, “you were weird at the beginning but intriguing enough to keep around.” Finally looking at him, “and I guess I’d use the word amazing … at times.”

Restarting the car just to get the roof open, he turned it off again, the sounds of night filling the car, “I’d like to talk about baseball again.”

Now she laughed, putting her seat back, “talk to me about the stars.”

Hating to do it, he removed his hand from her and matched her tilt back, scooting a little to the right so his head was near hanging off the rest, pretense of seeing out the roof better and all. She did the same and soon their forehead were almost touching, shoulders were. His hand missed her so it went searching again, this time finding her upper thigh, resting lightly, not allowing gravity to work in his favor, to pull him closer to third-base territory, “what do you want to hear about them?”

“Everything. Nothing. I just like to hear you talk, especially in the dark.”

Wondering if confessions were the name of the game tonight, “Sam once told me that she made a wish on every star, not just the shooting ones.”

“That’s an awful lot of wishes for an 8-year-old.”

“She had a lot of time on her hands apparently.”

Turning her head so she could kiss his nose, she returned to her side of the car quickly, “I wish I had that kind of time. I don’t think we’ve stopped long enough to have an actual conversation in months.”

Finally connecting his forehead to hers, “is that why we’re out here talking about stars?”

“Possibly.” Silence reigned again until Scully’s hand shot up, “shooting star!”

“Make your wish.”

Once she’d squinched her eyes shut, made her plea to the starry gods, she said, absently, into the shadows, “I know it won’t come true but I don’t think it hurts to ask.”

Twisting to his right side to face her, switching hands on her leg, quiet cursing that the console separating them dared to exist, “it never hurts to ask. I’ve been screaming the same wish for months. Someone’s bound to answer me, if for nothing else, just to shut me up.”

If she looked at him, in this instant, in this universe, she would fall apart, cracked pieces in his hands with no hope of re-assembly. Keeping her eyes on the sky, “my favorite constellation is the Southern Cross. You can only see in in the southern hemisphere but one day, I’m going to go to Australia and I’m going to sit there, on a beach, all night long, just to stare at it.”

“Whirlwind world tour?”

“I’d like that. I’ve got six other continents to see. Might have to start as soon as I can.”

“If I offer to provide breakfast and lunch, can I come?”

He watched her nod and smile in the starlight, “I never thought you wouldn’t.” Catching his gaze at her out the corner of her eye, “you’re not looking at the stars anymore, Mr. Mulder.”

“I’ve got a better view down here on Earth, Miss Scully.”

Shaking her head, “the things you say sometimes.”

“Hey, I’ve slept in your bed. I’m allowed to call you ‘pretty’.”

Shifting to face him instead of the stars, she wondered if she dare share how much those nights still sat in the forefront of her mind, first before her diagnosis and second after he’d driven her home, taken care of her as she was sick, kept her warm as she came off her first round of chemo, “twice, actually, I’ve let you sleep in my bed.”

Moving his hand from her leg to run along her hairline, brief stop to rest his palm over her neck, “I think, someday, we should do that again, have a sleepover of epic proportions: scary movies, ice cream, pizza, and pillow fights. What do you say?”

Instead of the smile he’d been hoping for, he watched her face tighten, forehead wrinkle, nose flare, then contort back to normal Scully, just as her eyes filled with tears, which began falling immediately, “I’m scared.”

Sliding himself forward, hand still on her, he tugged gently at her neck until she moved towards him, “come here.” Meeting her lips for a brief moment, he went back in for another before resting forehead against hers, “I’m scared enough for both of us so maybe we should take turns. I’ll be scared Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and you can do Tuesday and Thursday.”

Wanting another kiss, she remained still, “what about the weekends?”

“We can share those. We’ll stay at your place one weekend then at mine the next. We’ll deal with it together. How’s that sound?”

Still crying, she almost laughed at the depth of the burden of solitude she didn’t know she carried until Mulder offered to carry it with her. Desperation nearly moved her to his mouth again but fighting it, she let out a wet, crackling sob before sighing, “thank you.”

“You’re not alone, I promise.”

Another shuddering breath out, she forced herself to back up, return to her own space, but found she couldn’t get far, Mulder’s hand still firmly on her neck, “Mulder.”

“I think we should talk about baseball again.”

Shutting her eyes against his searching look, she ignored the sudden tingling up her spine, “my head’s a mess right now. I don’t think I could separate ‘baseball’ from fear and I don’t want to ruin … it can’t be done like this. I’m sorry.”

She felt him pull away, then kiss her forehead lightly, talking into her skin, “you’ve got a dirty mind. I just wanted to discuss this year’s lineup for the Sox.”

Finally, she did laugh, gently bumping into his head with hers, “I’m more of a Cubs fan myself but talk away.”

“The Cubs? Really? What the hell is wrong with you?”

As they both separated, settled back into their own seats, Mulder’s hand back on her leg, “to be fair, that’s the first team I thought of.”

“Thank God. I thought I was going to have to rescind everything I just promised you. Although now, our Sunday fear sharing is going to be filled with baseball games, both live and from my couch.”

“I’d like that.” Silence between them filled with crickets chirping and frogs croaking, Scully reached down her leg to find his hand, lacing fingers together, pulling his knuckles to her mouth to kiss them, one by one, before, “I’d like that a lot and by the way, pretty sure you already rounded first.”

“Ahh, yes,” grinning upwards, “yes, I did.”

“Mulder.”

Her voice pulled him back from his amusement, “yeah?”

“I’m finally tired.”

With a chuckle, he looked over at her, “ready to go back?”

“No, but we probably should or we just sleep out here tonight and pray we don’t get eaten by bears or overzealous hunters.”

Mulder snapped his seat back up, “home it is.” It took twice as long to find the hotel because Mulder hadn’t paid attention as he was driving but eventually, they found their home away from home. Both were sleepy at this point and once inside Mulder’s room, Scully headed, heavy-lidded, to the adjoining door but stopped when Mulder spoke, “thanks for asking me to go for a drive.”

“Thanks for driving me.” Knuckling a knock on the door frame where she’d been leaning a few hours earlier, “it’s Friday now, right?”

“Yeah. My day to worry. Now go to bed before you fall down.”

With a nod and a smile, she disappeared into the darkness.

#cancer arc #msr #MulderNScully #My writing #our moment series #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #txf fanfic #rounding first

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storytellerofuntoldlegends · 3 years

Text

and the void looked back to say i love you (Part Four)

A/N: oh look it’s another chapter of phil visiting kristin in the void! but what’s this? it’s wilbur soot with a steel chair! enjoy the local eldritch horror adopting a ghost boy within seconds of meeting him (see you in the reblogs!! i love seeing people’s reactions to fics!)

Warnings: death mentions, some kind of eldritch horror moments that are strangely wholesome (spooky lady near instantly gets attached to ghost boy and ghost boy is a little unnerved by that at first), mild anxiety, mild embarrassment

Masterpost

Time still passed as slow and syrupy as the void itself. Phil had built a home in a giant tree with branches that were scarred and burnt from a lightning strike, but Kristin hadn’t moved in quite yet. She wanted to live in the Overworld, to see all the things that Phil had described to her- but was a little reluctant to leave her domain. She wasn’t even completely certain that she could leave the void, and if so not for forever. Phil, of course, took all of this with unrelenting optimism and the assurance that it would all work out. On one visit, he said that he was willing to dig a tunnel down to the void from his house if it meant that Kristin would be able to be somewhat close to him. But in the meantime, he was willing to wait until Kristin was comfortable and confident enough to make a trip to the Overworld, and was more than content to continue visiting her in the void.

Kristin was interrupted by her reminiscing by an echoey scream from above. She immediately drew herself up from the void with wide eyes, and for a brief, panicked moment, she thought the scream belonged to Phil. But the owner of the scream sounded younger, almost like a child’s voice. A translucent teenager suddenly tumbled through the ceiling, screaming all the while until he landed in Kristin’s outstretched hands with a muffled thump.

“Oh! Are you alright?” Kristin asked, frowning in concern at the strange ghostly kid in her hands. A ratty blue cloak was thrown over the kid’s near skeletal form, his bright yellow sweater contrasting from his gray skin. An actual skeletal tail was curled around the teen’s wrist, like he was trying to comfort himself. The kid looked up through a mop of brown hair, pitch-black eyes flashing with green as he met her own equally dark ones.

“What the fuck?!” the kid cried, starting to shuffle backwards in her hands.

“Well that’s not an answer,” Kristin said with a laugh. The kid’s face went paler than it already was at the sound of her laugh.

“I-I’m fine. Who- Who are you, exactly?” the kid managed to stammer out.

“I’m Kristin, Queen of the Void. What’s your name?” she asked cheerfully.

“Wilbur Soot. Uh… king of accidentally phasing through bedrock, apparently,” he said, scowling up at the ceiling. Kristin laughed again, relieved to see Wilbur crack a smile in response instead of seeming nervous like before.

“I’ve never met anyone who could phase through bedrock,” Kristin commented. Wilbur’s tail uncurled from his wrist and lashed behind him excitedly.

“It’s cause I’m a ghost! Well, phantom, technically. I’m supposedly related to those screechy guys who don’t like it if you don’t sleep, but I don’t really see the resemblance,” Wilbur explained with a shrug. Kristin blinked in confusion, about to ask for clarification on the “screechy guys,” but a voice called from above before she was able to speak.

“Wil? Are you down there?” Phil called out.

“Yes! Did you know there’s a giant lady underneath your house?” Wilbur shouted back.

“Well I sure hope so, I’m his wife,” Kristin replied before Phil had a chance to answer.

“You’re his what?! Phil, you married the Queen of the Void?!” Wilbur demanded, glaring angrily at the ceiling, seemingly upset that Phil hadn’t told him about Kristin. The only answer Wilbur got was a cackle of laughter from Phil, and admittedly Kristin was a little confused. She definitely was starting to like this kid, but what puzzled her was that Phil also seemed fond of Wilbur. Where had this kid come from? And how did Phil end up getting close to him?

“Phil, how do you know Wilbur?” Kristin asked. A sigh that mostly consisted of fond laughter was heard from above.

“I’ll explain in a bit. I haven’t quite finished this tunnel yet, I’ll have to come down the long way around,” Phil said, before Kristin heard a muffled flutter of feathers, presumably meaning that Phil had flown off. Kristin looked back to Wilbur, who was still glaring angrily up at the ceiling. He brought his knees up to his chest, folding his arms over the top of them. He rested his chin on top of his arms, and his tail curled around his legs. He seemed to be pouting now, and Kristin couldn’t help but huff out a laugh of amusement.

“Can’t believe my mum is the Queen of the Void and Phil didn’t tell me,” Wilbur muttered. Kristin blinked in surprise. She didn’t recall having a son, nor did she remember Phil saying he had a son. However, Wilbur seemed to think otherwise… could he be Phil’s son? Wilbur had said something about being a ghost, maybe Wilbur was from Phil’s previous home in the islands above the void. But from what Phil had told Kristin, he had been a child when he was forced to leave his home. So how could Wilbur be Phil’s son? Besides, Wilbur didn’t seem to have wings like Phil’s. And Phil certainly didn’t have a bony tail.

“I’m sorry, did you just say ‘mum?’” Kristin asked, wondering if she had misheard. Wilbur’s head popped up, eyes flashing green in alarm as his tail curled tighter around himself sheepishly.

“I uh… nevermind!” Wilbur squeaked, cheeks turning a peculiar shade of blue that Kristin realized must be his way of blushing.

“I’m back and ready to explain!” a voice cried out. Kristin looked over to see Phil swooping down to perch on her hand next to Wilbur. A few of Phil’s crows were with him, one of them landing on top of Wilbur’s head and cawing in greeting. Wilbur smiled up at the crow perched in his hair, tail slowly unwinding from around himself.

“So… I see you’ve made a friend!” Kristin said brightly. Wilbur looked sheepish again, and Phil chuckled fondly.

“I met him a little while ago. I had meant to introduce you to him once I finished the tunnel, but Wil got ahead of me. Both the tunnel, and him, were supposed to be a surprise,” Phil said, sitting next to Wilbur and playfully nudging him. Wilbur only turned a deeper shade of blue, burying his face in his arms and dislodging the crow from his hair. The crow squawked in disapproval, but gently flew back to land next to Wilbur, nudging at his leg affectionately.

“Oh, don’t embarrass him more than I already have,” Kristin admonished with a smile. Wilbur hesitantly peaked up at Kristin, while Phil tilted his head to one side in confusion.

“How have you managed that?” Phil asked.

“He referred to me as ‘mum,’ and I asked him why,” Kristin explained. To her surprise, Phil looked just as embarrassed as Wilbur.

“Ah. Well, you see- I told Wilbur that my crows call me Dadza, and he seemed to take a liking to that nickname and started calling me ‘dad’ too, and I just sort of let it happen? And I might have mentioned being married, and referred to you as ‘Mumza,’ but I realize we haven’t been married that long, but Wil’s a good kid and-”

“Phil?” Kristin interrupted with a soft smile. Phil’s mouth snapped shut and a flush came over his face.

“Yes?” he asked with a timid smile.

“I think Wilbur’s a good kid too,” she replied, looking to Wilbur with a smile. Wilbur still looked rather flustered, but he smiled brightly at Kristin. That is, until he turned to glare at Phil.

“You didn’t mention that Mumza was the void, Phil,” he said, tone starting off as accusatory but Kristin could hear the smile creeping onto his face. Phil outright cackled, stretching out his wing to wrap around Wilbur and tug him closer to ruffle his hair. Wilbur giggled, swatting away Phil’s hand but not moving an inch from being nestled at his side. Kristin’s heart fluttered fondly at the sight of them in her hands. They were an odd family- the Queen of the Void, her elytrian husband, their phantom son, and a murder of crows- but Kristin knew even then that she wouldn’t trade them for the world.

MCYT Taglist (lmk if you want to be added!): @franticfandomfanatic

#osmp #osmp fic #philza #osmp philza #mumza #void!kristin #wilbur soot #osmp wilbur #mcyt #fluff #sage writes

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aph-honk-kong · 3 years

Text

Sylfiden - Akt I

Alastair should be grateful that his future is secure - he has a large house, bountiful crops and will soon be married to the prettiest girl in the village. But on the morning of his wedding day, a sylph appears in his living room and dismantles every aspect of his perfectly-planned life.

[Written for day three of @aphrarepairweek2021 with the prompt “culture” - granted, this is kind of inaccurate since the source this was based on was produced by a Dane in 1836, but I guess it still kind of shows Scottish culture]

This fic was based on the Romantic ballet Sylfiden, choreographed by August Bournonville of the Royal Danish Ballet.

Here’s what Alastair should look like:

(This is Jon Axel Fransson, photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

And here is the sylph, though you can always imagine them wearing something else:

(This is Ida Praetorius, also photographed by Per Morten Abrahamsen)

...

Alastair awoke to whiteness.

At first he thought it was another of Dillon’s pranks, and there was cotton over his face again, but he looked longer and found the tint before his eyes resembling fabric a little more. Had he somehow fallen asleep over Marianne’s wedding dress? No, that couldn’t be, for was it not bad luck to see the bride’s gown before the ceremony? Then Alastair looked up and saw a face.

He was as regal as he was pale, snowy cheeks dusted with the faintest pink that mirrored the shade of his lips. He was not smiling, at least not with his mouth, but his eyes — blue eyes, Alastair noticed — held laughter. And he was so close that his white-gold hair was tickling his cheek.

He jolted to his feet. The man moved backwards, too, and stopped by the living room window with his arms poised delicately. “Good morning.”

“I — ” Alastair looked him up and down again. The white he saw turned out to not be from a gown, but a thin white blouse that floated whenever he moved. “What are you doing here?”

“To visit you,” he replied. Then he turned around, and he saw on his back a pair of small, translucent wings. A sylph, he realised. A wind spirit was in his house. “I hear you are getting married today, and I wanted to wish you luck.”

“Oh.” The sylph moved away when he tried to get close; well, “moved” was hardly the right word for it. He glided across the floor, it seemed, wings fluttering softly each time he evaded Alastair’s grasp. “Thank you, er…?”

“Stellan.” The sylph leapt away once more. “That is my name.”

And a peculiar one too, Alastair was tempted to say. But he kept his mouth shut and merely watched, entranced, as Stellan drifted past the chair he had fallen asleep on. He did not seem entirely real.

“I wanted to look at you, I suppose,” he sing-songed, “before you got married. Some say that the hours before a wedding are a man’s last moments of freedom. Do you agree?”

For some reason, the question made his ears prickle with heat. Was he implying that he did not want to get married? Indignantly, Alastair opened his mouth to reply when Stellan elegantly hopped away from the chair. “I must go now. I will see you again soon.”

He stepped backwards into the fireplace, and the flames rose higher. When they faded, Stellan was gone.

Not a minute after Stellan disappeared, Dillon stamped into the room with a grin. “My, you’re already awake!” He exclaimed. “After all the planning last night I expected you to be out ‘til noon.” He lowered his voice. “Best look presentable, now. Marianne will be here to get ready soon.”

“Wait, really?” His hands flew to his head and began trying to flatten his hair, which was probably a rat’s nest after just waking up. “Goodness, I’m still in my clothes from yesterday.” Something white flashed in his vision, and he started. Had Stellan returned?

“You alright there?”

“Just thought I saw something,” Alastair said tiredly. “Did you see a sylph last night? I swore one came to visit me when I first awoke.”

Dillon stared at him as though he had grown another head. “Have you been drinking already?”

“No?”

“Of course I haven’t seen a sylph!” With a bark of laughter, he clapped Alastair on the back. “And neither should you. It’s probably just cold feet. Have some breakfast and warm yourself up, and you ought to be alright.”

He glanced at the window once more. Nothing. “Yes,” he settled, “I was probably just a bit delirious.”

His cottage door opened again and in flowed distant giggles. Breaking away from her mother, Marianne swept into the living room and into his arms. “Good morning, dear.”

“Good morning.” Alastair kissed her forehead. She smelled like heather. “How did you sleep?”

“Very well.” Marianne rested her head against his chest, smiling contentedly. “Dreamt of you all night long.”

He leant down, ready to kiss her, when a shadow moved near the fireplace. He broke away and ran towards it, ignoring his bride-to-be’s indignant huff, and bent down. Had Stellan returned to offer more blessings? Would he wish him luck again with his soft, sweet voice? Alastair searched the figure, ready to look into blue eyes —

They were green.

“What the Hell are you doing here?”

Dressed slightly less odiously, scowling as usual, Arthur glared back at him. “Ah, it’s the inattentive groom. Are you leaving lovely Marianne for me?”

Dillon snorted behind him.

“I am not, and I find it insulting that you would even think I would,” he replied furiously. “And you are not attending my wedding. I don’t need somebody to perform magic tricks.”

Arthur scowled even deeper in response. He was constantly trying to convince the village that he was, in fact, a witch with the ability to do magic, but everyone had come to the conclusion that he was probably a raving fool who had been exiled from England for some reason, hence his name. “I wouldn’t disrespect my craft, if I were you.”

“It isn’t disrespectful if it’s true.” Alastair rolled his eyes. “As if you can really cast spells. Will you leave, please?”

Now he looked positively murderous. “Don’t you dare talk to — ”

Marianne reached the fireplace before Arthur could finish his sentence. “Why don’t you predict our fortunes?” She asked with a pacifying smile. “If your predictions are good enough, we’ll let you stay.“

Arthur stared at her for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “All right. Gather your ladies.”

The first of Marianne’s friends came forward, and the witch took her hand roughly. After peering at her palm for a moment, he proclaimed, “you will find love soon.”

“You will lose something dear to you,” he informed another.

The third fortune he whispered in the girl’s ear, and when she turned away she had tears in her eyes. Arthur watched her leave with a smug smile forming.

“Hey!” A little boy Alastair recognised as Dillon’s nephew ran forward. “Look at mine next!”

He had barely touched the boy’s hand when Dillon reached them, scooping him cleanly off his feet and carrying him away. “Don’t you talk to him, Peter! You will take part in none of this nonsense!”

Marianne went to Arthur next. He took one look at her palm, and his smile grew. “There is love in your future.”

She stretched her other hand to hold Alastair’s, and he leant down to kiss her once more. “I already know that.”

“But!” And now he looked positively gleeful. “That love will have nought to do with your dear fiancé. He will leave you for someone else!”

He frowned. “That isn’t true, and you know it.”

“Say, look at my palm.” Dillon strode forward, having deposited Peter as far away from Arthur as possible. He winked at Alastair. “Maybe I’ll turn into a frog tomorrow.”

Arthur took one look at his hand and gave a short laugh. “You will find love very soon, too,” he cackled. “In fact, you will marry lovely Marianne!”

Irritation flickered deep within him, only growing as Dillon stared at Marianne in shock, pink creeping across his cheeks. “I will what?”

“You will not fall for Marianne, that’s what you’ll do.” Alastair pulled her into his arms, glowering first at Arthur then at Dillon. “I’m the one getting married to her.”

“Or so it is now,” Arthur mused. “Who knows what will happen at the end of today?”

The tiny sparks of annoyance turned into mild anger and he left Marianne’s side, leaning down to grab Arthur by the arm. “You are going to get out,” he retorted, voice growing in volume, “and you are going to stay out. First for slandering me by implying that I am — that I am attracted to men, and more so for accusing my best friend of stealing my bride!” He ignored his yelp of pain, dragged him out of the living room, opened the door and quite literally threw him out of the house.

He slammed the door before he could get back in, and stamped back into the living room. “Well then.” He announced, trying to sound cheerful, “shall we continue preparing?”

…

Once Marianne had left to get dressed and her bridesmaids had finished preparing, Alastair was once again left alone. He stared at his wedding suit, which he had yet to change into, and sighed. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of his life, the day he had been poised for since childhood, and that wretched witch had to try and ruin it.

The whole village had known that he and Marianne would be wed for practically a decade. She was one of his closest, dearest friends, and he couldn’t imagine himself getting married to anyone else. Alastair ran his thumb over his engagement ring. This was his duty, and he would stick to it, no matter what Arthur’s idiotic palm-reading had predicted.

The window creaked open.

Feather-light, Stellan hopped from his perch on the windowsill onto the floor. He was smiling now, if one could call that tiny curve of his lips a smile. “Nervous?”

“A little bit.”

“I hope you considered my question.”

He sighed; why were these strange magical fellows so determined to aggravate him on his wedding day? “I find it rather insulting that you think I’m being forcibly chained to Marianne.”

Soft eyelashes fluttered. Stellan leapt again; he seemed incapable of staying in one place for long. “That was not what I meant. I simply want you to consider this question: are you getting married because you truly love the lady, or because you feel obligated to?”

“Are you accusing me of not loving her?”

His eyes flashed; his wings fluttered. Something about him, ethereal and soft, made Alastair feel warm. “No, not at all. I can see that Marianne is very dear to you, as a friend. But is she really somebody you wish to be wed to?”

“Y-Yes,” he said instinctively.

Stellan raised an eyebrow. “Can you imagine yourself kissing her in the years to come? Waking up every morning next to her? Raising children with her? With her?”

With her?

And suddenly Alastair was six years old again, playing family with Dillon. “I’m going to marry you when we grow up,” he’d declared. “I’ll put a ring on your finger and we’ll have lots of children!”

He had not understood why his mother had run to shush him, informing him with a tight smile that he ought to marry a lady instead.

Then he was fourteen, learning to dance for a festival. His friend had laughed, watching him blunder, and grabbed his hands to place them in the right positions. His skin had tingled, and his heart raced in a way that had nothing to do with his performance.

And then he was nineteen, running to the market to sell the week’s produce when he bowled into somebody — a newcomer to the village, supposedly an Englishman. He’d looked into grass-green eyes and pouting lips and pushed him away with a shout, but his gaze burned into him forevermore.

“No!” Alastair said aloud, a strange heat pricking at his eyes. “That is not the man I am anymore. This marriage is proof of that.”

Stellan was quiet for a while, and he saw a tear roll down his cheek.

His heart sank. “Why are you crying?”

He breathed out shakily; a delicate white hand moved to wipe the tear away. “I am reminded, once again, how little freedom humans have,” he whispered. “How can you live knowing that you cannot truly be yourself?”

“I am myself,” Alastair insisted. “I know who I want to be, and it is not —” He could not even say that word — “Not whatever you think I am.”

Those lovely blue eyes glimmered, as though there were more tears to shed. Stellan blinked hard, approaching a chair and scooping up a scarf that was resting upon it. “Will you be truly happy hiding who you are for the rest of your life?” He unfolded the scarf and draped it over himself, blue tartan over ghostly pale tulle. Alastair realised that it was Marianne’s scarf, which made it a strange sight indeed — here was a beautiful, knowing man who had fluttered his way into his life just this morning dressed in his betrothed’s clothing.

“Today’s marriage is my duty.” He could not tear his eyes away from Stellan, who was pacing around the room, snuggling into the scarf. “I have known this would happen for many years now.”

Those beguiling eyes caught him then; triumph shimmered in them. “So it is something you must do, but not something you want to do.”

“Why do you care?” Alastair questioned brusquely. “It is not as though you are jealous of Marianne, and would marry her instead.”

Stellan glided towards him once more. His cheeks were slightly more flushed now, making him look more like an actual human being rather than a fleeting spirit. “Because, as the winds blow past the fields you work in, I have watched you. Day in, day out, you live as dictated.” Stellan’s blush deepened more so, and he pursed his lips. “And I came to grow fond of you.” He gently twisted the scarf. “Very fond.

“How could I bear to see somebody I am fond of so caged in?”

Suddenly, Alastair’s ears felt rather warm. So that was why Stellan was so against all of this. “So you have that sort of feeling for me. What makes you so sure that I am like you?”

Stellan neared Alastair, though he dodged playfully when he reached out to try and touch him. “Because,” he said, voice much lighter now, “I saw your face when you first laid eyes on me. I doubt you have ever looked at Marianne that way. At the very least, I have never seen you do so.”

His breath caught. “Did I really look… lovestruck, or something-or-other?”

“Yes, you did.”

Now the heat had spread from his ears to his entire face, and Alastair prayed that his cheeks were not as red as his hair. “I don’t think I meant it.” Then Stellan neared, and he leant forward to try and catch him once more, suddenly wondering what his touch felt like.

The door creaked open, and from the doorway came, “Alastair?”

The shock cut through the rest of his battling thoughts, and he ran towards Stellan. “You have to go.”

He tugged the scarf off himself, glancing at the door. “What is happening?”

“They cannot see you!” Alastair nudged him to the window. “Go now, please, I will meet you again soon.”

Dillon burst into the room, seeing Stellan in all his beauty by the window, and froze.

Before he could stop him, he rushed out of the room, and Alastair whirled to Stellan. “Please. I don’t know what they will do to you, I don’t want you to get hurt — ”

“There!”

He spun to see Dillon back in the room, alongside Marianne and her mother. “I saw him there, with a man in white.”

“Don’t be silly now.” Marianne sailed to the window. “All I see is my scarf. I think you’re just taking Arthur’s fortunes a bit too seriously.”

Alastair’s shoulders sagged in relief, realising that Stellan had flown away just in time. “I do hope you do not actually believe that lunatic’s words.”

Marianne’s mother laughed. “I think he’s just jealous that his best friend got the loveliest girl in the village.”

“Mother!” She laughed, high and sweet, though it did not warm Alastair’s heart the way he thought it would. “Dillon will find a wife of his own soon, I just know it. There is no need to fight over me.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Dillon said gruffly.

Marianne wrapped her scarf around her neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek. “Come on, now. Let Alastair get changed. Go outside and wait for everyone else to show up.”

Bride-to-be and mother-in-law watched him like a hawk as he changed into his wedding suit, then led him outside where the many wedding guests were assembled. Standing aside was a cluster of bards, bagpipes at the ready. Dillon came up to him, all shock and envy from before gone, and grabbed his shoulder. “It’s your last hour as an unmarried man. We ought to celebrate!”

The bards began their playing, Marianne pulled him into the crowd and he began to dance.

It was freeing, for a while, to lose himself in the wild blur of limbs and laughter and simply move without thinking. Alastair had danced this way before, and it would never stop being exciting to him. He laughed, hooking an arm around Marianne’s waist and spinning her ‘round. Little Peter danced in front of him and nearly tripped over his uncle’s shoes.

They danced, carefree and jolly, and Alastair nearly felt ready for the wedding. But then he saw white again.

Once more he released her, searching the crowd of people for the one man he knew would stand out. He saw nothing. She took hold of him again, and they continued dancing.

The next time he slipped away, it was a pair of gossamer wings he saw. Stellan glanced back at him, cheeks pink once more as he sailed elegantly past the partygoers. Unthinking, Alastair reached a hand out, a part of him perhaps hoping to touch his soft hair, but Marianne grabbed his wrist and he was tugged back.

Throughout the song they played their silent, musical game of cat-and-mouse. Stellan wove in between the dancers, somehow evading notice, while Alastair tried to catch glimpses of him without arousing any more suspicion. Occasionally, when he got bored of spinning and gliding, Stellan flapped his wings a few times to make his jumps higher. His slender arms stretched out in front of him, flowing like a scarf in the wind. In his white clothes, dancing something entirely different, Alastair had never seen someone so graceful.

When the dancing ended, and Stellan had vanished once more, he was given the ring that would adorn Marianne’s fingers during the ceremony and left alone once more. Alastair ran his fingers over the bronze band, watching it glint in the faint sunlight. Less than an hour later, he would slip this ring on her fourth finger, and she would do the same to him, and that would be it. They would be bound to each other for as long as they lived, and what was left of his nameless, forbidden love would be stamped out for good. But that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? For his desire to finally be suppressed? In that case, the rings would be less like rings and more like shackles.

Dillon and Marianne’s mother were keeping an eye on him from his spot by the hedges, though they didn’t know he could see them. With his parents no longer with him and her father gone too, her mother was the one who had held fast to the arranged marriage. She wanted security for her daughter, and how better to achieve that than marrying a young, well-off farmer? Alastair clenched his fist around the ring, Stellan’s words were really getting to him.

A white-clothed figure was lingering behind a tree, peering out at him.

Speak of the devil.

Stellan poked his head out, looking so sweet and curious that Alastair nearly laughed. He had woven himself a circlet of white heather, as though fancying himself the one to marry him. He nodded at his hand and tilted his head.

Oh. Alastair pinched the ring between his thumb and index finger and lifted it up. The sylph raised an eyebrow and pointed at his ring finger in question.

He nodded.

Quicker than he had ever seen him before, Stellan leapt out from behind his tree towards him, wings spurring him forward so he was nearly a blur. He grabbed the ring, admired it for a moment, then swiftly fled before he could catch him. “Hey!”

He slipped the ring on his own finger, glanced back at him and smiled teasingly. Hopping lithely onto his garden fence, he perched on top of it for a moment, winked, then tumbled off and made his escape. Alastair could hear someone yelling at him from behind, but did not turn back. Before he could stop himself, he raced after Stellan into the forest beyond.

#aph scotnor #aph scotland #aph norway #aphrarepairweek2021 #aph fanfiction #my writing

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ofstarsandvibranium · 4 years

Text

Soup of the Day

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Filipina!Reader

Special request by @tom-hlover : Bucky x Filipina reader who is new to the country and a new lab assistant and is quite the workaholic.when time came almost everyone was at the mission when reader became sick and tried to cook for herself though she cant even properly stand up,when Bucky found her,

A/N: I mention the Agents of Atlas and Pearl/Wave aka the Filipina superhero. If you don’t know who they are, I highly suggest to read up on them because they’re awesome.

When you were personally recruited to the Avengers in America, you couldn’t believe it. You were so excited, but you were also conflicted. You confided with Pearl about your situation and she replied with “Ikaw gaga?! You’re going! This is a great opportunity!”

She was right, it was a great opportunity. So, unfortunately, you had to say goodbye to Pearl, to the Agents of Atlas, to your family, your friends, your homeland.

Coming to America, it was a bittersweet feeling. You spent your first few months adapting to the environment and the people. Sam, being that he was Captain America, took it upon himself to help you with the transition as much as he can. But while he was away on missions, Bucky took his place.

Being that you were working in the lab, you saw him often to check on his arm. While checking the wiring and updates, you two would chat. Bucky would share some of his mission stories, and you would share your stories about your work with Pearl and the Atlas team. You couldn’t see it, but Bucky would always find himself smiling whenever you talked about the Philippines and your life there. He could see how much you loved your job, your people, and your work. But he could also see the sadness, how the distance was taking a toll on you.

So he always did the best he could to bring a smile to your face, to cheer you up, and because he loved it when you smiled.

Also, because you were new to the team, you felt like you had to prove yourself. Working long hours, longer than required, just to prove you deserve to be there and to stay with them. But it seems like these longs hours were taking a toll on you because when you woke up this morning, you felt terrible.

You slowly put your work clothes on, dragging yourself into work. You were there for less than an hour when Bruce finally took a good look at you and saw how sickly you look.

“Y/N, I think you should take today off.”

You swayed as you turned to Bruce’s green hulking figure, “I’m fine. Promise.”

He grabs you by the shoulders to steady you, “You’re clearly not. Take today off. Rest. Take some medicine, eat some soup. You’re not working today.”

“But-”

“Nope.”

You sigh, rubbing your sweaty head with your clammy hand, “Okay.” you take your things and head back up to your room.

You weren’t sleepy, and you didn’t feel too dizzy anymore, so you decided to make yourself some soup, specifically sinigang. You recall your lola making it for you whenever you were sick or even if you were feeling down. It was your comfort food.

You take out the ingredients one by one, setting them onto the counter. You chop up the beef, onions, and tomatoes. Afterwards, you toss them into the pot with some oil to brown and saute.

As you stand before the stove, moving the ingredients around, you start feeling dizzy again. You try holding onto the counter for balance, but it doesn’t work. Soon enough, you feel yourself falling and you’re waiting to meet the floor, but it doesn’t come.

“Y/N, are you okay?!”

You look up and see a blurry version of a familiar blue-eyes super soldier, “Bucky?” you murmur, trying to focus your eyes, but it isn’t working.

Bucky pulls you up, wrapping his metal arm around you to keep you from falling. With his free hand, he feels your head with the back of his hand, “Geez, sweetheart, you’re burnin’ up. Bruce told me you weren’t feeling well. I came to check up on ya. Good thing I did. You nearly bashed your head into the counter.”

“I’m....I’m..ffffine. Just need.....sin-sin-soup,” you point to the pot that’s sizzling with meat and veggies inside.

Bucky shakes his head, “You’re not cooking in your state. That’s a definite safety hazard. I’m taking you to bed and I’ll finish cooking the soup for you.”

“Bucky, no-”

“Bucky, yes. You need to rest, Y/N or you’ll get even worse.” As if you weighed nothing, he scoops you up and brings you to your room. Using his foot, he opens the door, and pushes it open. Then he places you onto your bed, pulling back the covers and helping you under them.

As soon as he pulls the blanket over you, you sigh. Your eyes flutter shut and your head luls to the side. You’re out like a light and Bucky quietly chuckles to himself.

He stands there, watching you sleep for a little bit, but then he remembers the food. He quickly and quietly rushes out of your room, leaving the door ajar in case you call for him, and head to the kitchen.

He lowers the heat and looks inside the pot to find some browned beef, translucent white onions, and tomatoes. He’s not exactly sure what kind of soup you were making.

“Uh, FRIDAY, what exactly was Y/N trying to make?”

“Miss L/N was in the process of making sinigang, a traditional soup that originates from the Philippines.”

“Right. Uuuuhhh, do you mind if you could assist me in making this?”

“Not at all, Agent Barnes.”

______________

When you wake up, you’re a little bit groggy. Your body feels a little heavy, but at least your head isn’t spinning anymore. You look at your window and still see sunlight peeking from the blind. You turn to your bedside and see that it’s half past noon. You were asleep for nearly five hours.

“How’re you feeling?”

“AYE!” you scream in fright and turn to the other side of your bed to see Bucky sitting in a chair, with a book in hand, “How long have you been there?”

He chuckles, setting his book onto your bedside, “Since you fell asleep. Well, a little less than that since I went to go finish making your, uh, sinigong?”

You giggle at his pronunciation, “Sinigang. But good try.”

“Hey, I don’t make fun of you when you attempt Russian.”

“Yes, you do!” both of you it there, chuckling with each other. A silence falls upon both of you, but it’s not awkward. It’s comforting.

But you still clear your throat and break the silence, “So, you made the soup. How’d that go?”

“Uh, alright, I guess? FRIDAY helped me out. Also, I honestly didn’t even know tamarind was a thing until now?”

You nod, “Yeah, that’s what makes the sinigang sour.”

“Um, are you hungry? I brought some to you earlier, but you were still asleep. I could get you some?”

“I could get it my-”

“No no, you stay in bed. By order of Doctor Banner.”

“He came by?” you gave him a confused look.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah. You were out of it, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Also, you’re not working for the next two weeks.”

“WHAT?!” You shoot up from the bed, “But-”

“I’ll tell you why in a sec, okay? I’m gonna get you some soup and a glass of water. Okay? Stay right there! Don’t move!”

You roll your eyes and lay back down, “Whatever you say, tay.”

“Don’t know what tay is, but okay.” he shoots you a wink and exits the room. You lay there giggling to yourself like a school girl who has a big crush. Well, to be fair, you do have a big crush on Bucky.

Minutes later, Bucky comes back with a steaming bowl and a large glass of water. He sits beside you and offering you a spoonful. You look at him with a glare and he rolls his eyes, “Humor me.”

You sigh and accept the spoonful of soup. You feel your throat warm up from it and you smack your lips together, “It’s good!”

He snorts, “Don’t sound so surprised.”

You place a hand on his thigh and gave him a grateful smile, “Thank you, Bucky, for making the soup and taking care of me.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart. Just-Just easy on the workload from now on, okay? Bruce says you’ve been working so much that that’s probably what got you sick.”

“Well, maybe I’ll keep getting sick so you can take care of me,” you playfully bat your eyes at him and he laughs.

“I’ll do anything you want, doll. Don’t gotta get sick for it.”

You giggle and pat his leg, “Okay. Deal,” and then accept another spoonful of sinigang from Bucky.

tagging: @buckybarnesthehotshot cause you know why.

A/N: also, this may be controversial but....i use spam in my sinigang....

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #filipina!reader #f!reader #female!reader #filipina reader #marvel #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes

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my-socialdiary · 3 years

Text

Cold yet Warm

*drum roll*

another Childe x Lumine fanfiction! i don’t know why but i LOVE this ship so much XD this time, i tried not to write angst even though i’m tempted to write more angst lmao

my other fanfiction (you can find them on my AO3 account: LoxieAshtyn)

Behind His Mask

Deep Water

anyway, here it is!

Summary: Childe and Lumine decided to camp somewhere near Mondstadt because it’s getting dark and cold.

It was freezing outside. It’s a snowy season here in the entire Teyvat. The snow is falling down, covering that once green grass with white blanket, giving the sense of dullness but still there’s a beauty in it. Especially when it’s dark and night, you can see a bunch of small lamp grass which emits enough light at night in the wild, when the windwheel aster is no longer blooming for a few months. It’s nice to see life and color in the middle of the monotonous time of the year.

“It will be nice to have Amber or Klee to lit up this damn fire rather than me doing this,” The blonde-haired girl was mumbling annoyingly to the tree branch she gathered earlier. The air is frozen lace in her skin, slowly numbing her movement. “We will already be frozen and die when finally this fire light.�� She rolled her eyes while roughly rubbing tree branches against rocks with exasperation.

“Paimon thinks you're doing it the wrong way, Lumine,” her travel companion in the form of a little fairy with a pair of translucent wings hovering near her. “Why don’t we asked Childe to help us? We can even switch tasks with him!” Paimon pointed at that deep blue eyes man who now is cutting fowl meat and mushroom so that they can have chicken-skewer feast.

Childe, who is noticed that he’s being mentioned by Paimon, turns his head and looks at Lumine’s direction. “Need any help with that?” he said while pointing at the poor tree branches that have been broken several times with his chin and letting out small chuckles. “I pity those branches.” He puts his knife and walks toward Lumine and takes the branches from her hand. “Here, let me do it. We can switch.” She huffed and walked past him.

Coldness is now wrapping their body even more. It’s even worse for Childe because he’s a hydro user. Lumine’s wondering if she’s almost feeling numb and her scarves didn’t do its job properly, how about Childe? She glances at him just to see that steam coming out from his mouth every time he breathes. But luckily, the fire is now lit up and he tries to make it even bigger by giving more branches. Heh. He seems fine. She shrugged and continued her task.

“Wow! You are waaay more better than Lumine, Childe!” Paimon spins around in the air and claps her tiny hands. Lumine rolled her eyes. “Now we can eat! Paimon is already feeling hungry.” She said with trembling made up voices along with Lumine who is now walking to them with raw chicken-mushroom skewers ready to grilled. “Yay! Food!”

Few moments later, they are all already fed, satisfied, and full. Even Paimon was already sleeping because she ate too many. Her tiny stomach can hold so many foods. Meanwhile, Childe is chilling outside his tent in front of the bonfire, enjoying the weather and warmness that tickles his body while his index finger is now poking the snow in the ground.

“Are you not cold?” Ask Lumine. She has been finished putting Paimon to her own tent and found Childe sitting outside. She hands over a piece of a thick blanket to him.

Childe smiles and takes the blanket. “Not really, the bonfire I made is doing its job properly,” He teased her when emphasizing the words ‘I made’ and let out a small laugh. In response, Lumine nudged him with her elbow and narrowed her eyes.

“Well, I admit you’re good at this, okay.” She said.

“I know. Thank you.”

The gentle breeze brushed off their skin, the fire crackling from the roaring blaze as dying branches and twigs gasped for their last breaths before totally consumed by its heat. None of them speaks. Their gaze is focused on the dancing fire, and seems to entertain them in the midst of Whisper Forest. If it’s not because of the quest they need to complete, they won’t be camping outside in this weather.

Lumine watches the fire as her mind slowly wanders off to the time when he still has his twin brother, Aether, on her side. They’ve been together since forever and now, she gotta admit that sometimes she’s afraid because of his absence. She breathes a sigh.

That catches Childe’s ear. “Why are you sighing? Is something bothering you?” He asks.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m just thinking about Aether and his whereabouts.” She forced a smile.

“You miss him?”

“Of course, you silly.” She squints.

“I miss my siblings too,” He looks at Lumine.

“I’d like to meet them someday,” She already heard so many things about Childe’s trio siblings. “Do you think they’ll like me?” She looks back at Childe just to see directly to his face and the deep dark blue eyes he has. What a beauty. This is not fair. How can he be so charming like this? Her cheeks started to blushed.

“Tonia is a little bit shy, but I’m sure Anthony and Teucer will like you,” He said. “They probably will enjoy Paimon’s companion too.”

“Y-yeah,” She looks away. Her heart is beating fast.

“What is Aether like? You rarely speak about him since we met,” He is now placing his face in his palm while that strong, muscular arm… no. Is supporting his upper body weight. He leaned forward to see Lumine’s face and didn’t take his eyes off from her. “Did you two have a super-similar personality, or…?”

Don’t look at me like that! She screamed inside. “U-uh, we resemble each other, I-I think.”

“It must be fun to have twin siblings,” He一finally一turns his face and watches the fire again. Lumine breathes a sigh of relief. “To know and to be known deeply. No wonder that you missed him so much.” He smiles.

“Yeah… it’s hard because I have been with him all my life. And now we’re parting ways, it’s…” she’s trying to find the right word. “Terrifying.”

Yes. It’s terrifying. The feeling of not knowing anything about the one who’s being the only support system you have is terrifying. She doesn't know where he is. She doesn't know what he is up to. She doesn't know if he’s in danger or not or if he needs her help. Importantly, she doesn’t know if he’s still alive or not after being taken by the Unknown God. Thinking about that makes her shiver in fear. No… Aether will be still alive, right? She tries to assure herself.

Just at that moment, she feels Childe’s arm wrapping her shoulder, pulling her closer to his body. Giving her a sense of comfort and safety. It’s warm… and nice. She knows that nothing has happened between her and Childe yet. And she also knows that at this moment she’s been carried away by her emotions yet she didn’t care. And it makes her head leisurely lean to his chest, hearing his heartbeat. It’s calming, she must admit. He stroked her upper arm with his palm.

“I’m sure he’s fine. You have to believe in him, you know?” He looked down, whispering those words. She can feel his breath tickling her ears, making her stomach flutter with those stupid butterflies. “The only thing you should do right now is keeping yourself safe. Don’t jump into a group of treasure hoarders by yourself.”

“I’m not that weak, you know,” She murmured. His warmth makes her a little bit sleepy. He tightened his embrace and that made her smile while closing her eyes, enjoying every bit of him. “Do you enjoy making me stay like this?” She teased him, trying to sound like she’s annoyed.

“Do I?” He asks her back with a chuckle.

“Seems like you do, Childe.”

“I guess so. Do you mind?” Childe felt that she was smiling in his arms. And that makes him smile too. “No need to answer that. I know.”

“You know?” She pulled herself and raised her eyebrow.

“Of course. You would kill to be at my arms like this.”

She pretends to think. “Well, I guess you’re right.” She grinned.

There’s a pause for a few minutes when finally Childe opened his mouth while pulling himself from her “I will stay with you, as long as you want me to stay,” he said it with determination. “As long as you have not yet found your brother, I will stay. With you.”

Lumine looks at him. His eyes showed the kind of gentle concern and sincerity her brother used to have. Childe put his hand on Lumine’s cheek, his soft voice made her feel his words calming her more than the actual words. It felt as if she were wrapped in a blanket of his thoughtful words. “Thank you,” She whispered while her eyes glimmered with watery tears. It was a happy cry. “Thank you, Childe. I mean it.”

He smiled and nodded. “I just want you to know that I care about you. I truly do, Lumine.”

She leans forward and gives him a kiss on his cheek. “I know.” After that she stood up and walked back to her tent. “You’d better go sleep now, Childe. Go to your tent.”

“How about you go to my tent?” He stood up and held her wrist, preventing her from walking away. “You know, it’s cold, and I’m a hydro user. I could use some warmth.”

Lumine smiles. “Just to remind you, I’m an anemo user, not a pyro user, Childe.”

“Well, your specialty is spreading out the effects of other elements, so…” he walks to lessen the gap between them. “I’m sure you can spread out the warmth from the fire to me as well.”

“I never try that.”

“Now you can try.”

Heat rose from Lumine’s stomach to her chest and soon enough arrived in both of her cheeks. Childe’s lips were getting closer till his smell hypnotized her beyond reasons. The feel of his frame leaning on hers as his arms wrapped around her felt comforting. She’s not sure who is exactly giving the warmth. Their lips met, transferring the sense of comfort they never felt before.

He pulled his lips and looked at Lumine. Her cheeks flushed with bright pink. “I will protect you no matter what, Lumine,” When he said her name, she shivered. His voice lingered over the words as it sounded pleasant to her. He pulled her over a hug and placed his head above Lumine’s head. “I never thought that this kiss would happen so soon.” He smiles and chuckles.

“So you anticipate and really think that we will kiss?” She teased him.

“Of course.” He said, with a slight confidence in his voice.

“Why?” pulled herself from the Childe’s arms and looked straight to his eye.

“Because I really want to cross the boundaries.”

“What?”

“By saying this,” He exhale and locked his eyes with her. “I love you.”

“Childe…”

“Sometime in the future, I want to cross those boundaries, I want to do many things with you,” He said. “That’s why I need to make sure that you know I love you. So that you will be assured with every action or words I do.”

She smiles. “I love you.”

That cold weather isn’t that bad, after all.

#genshin impact #genshin lumine #genshin childe #tartaglia genshin #genshin impact lumine #genshin impact childe #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #winter weather #bonfire #fluff #childe x lumine #lumine #childe

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howareyanowwayne · 3 years

Text

Letterkenny Crack

This is a Mermaid AU you have been warned. pre-Wayne/Darry.

If you asked most of the good people in Letterkenny, they’d tell you that Wayne was without a doubt the toughest guy in town. A really good guy, just all around stand up; he kept to himself, but never avoided a polite chit-chat with neighbors or ag hall members. Ran his farm with ease and always put out a good crop, fought with honor and defended his own- that was all most people really cared to know about him.

He’d never really had a sweetie(except for Angie) and that goss would circulate every few years when someone decided to try their luck asking him to dance at the jamboree or sum’such. It never stuck, and people would find something else to talk about until another party came around and others would give it the old college try.

The best thing about Wayne, in most the town’s minds anyway, wasn’t just the good fights he put on or his honest-to-god good ole’ boy way of going about things- it was the lake that bordered the north side of his property. Like his Dyad had when they were kids, every summer Wayne opened the back driveway from noon to 4 or 5 and let people drive up in their trucks for a few hours of swimming. Most of the lake sat on the state-owned wildlife preserve that curled around the north and east sides of the farm, but they had a solid 3rd of it that was great for swimming and fishing, as long as people stayed respectful.

Wayne himself spent a good deal of time out by the lake, thinking or drinking. Always in the morning when there was no one about. Katy worried about him sometimes, especially after Angie’s cheated on him; when he’d disappeared and they’d found him, two days later passed out on the shore of the lake completely soaked through.

But Wayne was never one for many words, content to spend a good deal of time alone or with his dogs, and she understood. He had his own demons, and she trusted him to come to her when he really needed help.

But this isn’t a story about Wayne being alone, or not liking people that much(because as polite as he was, he really didn’t like most folks all that much), this is the story of how Wayne and Derry met.

One morning, long before chorin’ needed to be done, Wayne bolted upright in his bed. Whatever dream had woken him was already fading from his mind, leaving behind only a vague sense of wonder and alarm. He sat quietly trying to remember for a moment, but soon enough drew a blank. Rolling out of bed, he looked out his back window towards the lake, out of sight on the other side of the field. Wayne had a strange feeling, as he dragged on jeans and a button up, that something was happening.

Without realizing it he’d rushed out of the house, pulling a dart from his pack and lighting it, beelining for the lake with long rolling strides.

As he got closer to the edge of the property he could see little flashes of green light from over the hill- getting brighter as he cleared the corn field and making his alarm grow. Wayne hadn’t brought a flashlight, and now he was glad he hadn’t announced his presence- if there were skids partying on his property after dark, he’d send them running with their tails tucked between their legs.

He ran the last few feet up to the crest of the hill and stopped cold. Blinked a few hundred times, because what he saw didn't make any kind of sense.

There, sliding leisurely through the water on the bank of the lake was fucking mermaid. He couldn’t think of another word for it that was for gd sure- clearly the upper body of a man, no legs, just fish from the hips down. Wayne scrubbed at his eyes hard, blinking the water out and letting his peepers adjust. It was still there after, tail pushing water lazily, upper body reclined on the shore. Glowing, for god's sakes, biolights flashing a soft green and blue and lighting the water like some kind of scene from a fairy tail.

He didn’t even register his legs taking him closer until suddenly he was only a few feet away, and big, glowing green eyes flickered up to him.

Wide, luminous, and wet as a dewdrop, Wayne watched two sets of translucent eyelids flutter in shock before yellow pupils shrunk into slits of alarm. Even as everything in him screamed at him to flee he was stuck, making intense eye contact with this strangely-human looking fish.

Two things happened in an instant. The Mermaid’s face split like a snake’s, mouth too wide and full of sharp teeth. Messy wet curls flew about his head as he flipped, hissing and backing away from the farmer faster than a deer in headlights.

Wayne stumbled back from the bank and slipped as loose sand and clay gave way, landing him right in the water with a splash. The hissing, barking sound continued as the hick threw his arms over his head and clenched his eyes shut. Lights flashed under his eyelids and his ears rang.

After a few long moments of heart pounding panic, the farmer stopped hearing hissing and a warm weight moved behind him. He opened his eyes to find the mermaid only a few inches from him. Wayne wasn’t the best at reading people, but he’d say it looked curious- mad as a snake, teeth barred and body tense, but there was a confused tilt to its head, eyes wide and searching.

“Hw’re ye n’w?”

And if that bomb didn’t take him out just a little. Wayne was sitting chest deep in freezing lake water, at four in the morning, tangled up with the canadian creature of the black lagoon and it was fucking speaking to him. He raised his head to meet those glowing green eyes again, took a deep shivering breath and said.

“Oh not so bad.” Lies. He was very overwhelmed right now.

Now that Wayne had a chance to see it up close, it was hard not to stare. Other than it’s eyes, which had no whites and shined like emerald fuckin’ gemstones, the top half of it looked just like a scrawny, less hairy dude maybe a little younger than Wayne- wiry and muscular, smaller by a bit, with a mop of curly wet hair that hung around it’s face and stuck to it’s neck. Freckles and a scale or two decorated it’s body, everywhere that could be seen, pale skin making the seamless transition to a fully green-scaled tail somewhere around the hip bones. There were little fins that Wayne thought might be for steering, on his elbows, wrists and sides; they were laying flat against his body now.

“S’rry.” It wheezed, and Wayne couldn’t help but wince; that was certainly not a voice meant for english, that’s for sure. But the fish continued anyway. “M’ Derry.”

“I’m Wayne.” It was only polite to introduce yourself. “I know.” Unless you were introducing yourself to a creepy mermaid, apparently. Wayne gave Darry an utterly unamused look and said- “Wish you weren’t so fuckin’ awkard, bud.”

When those words left Wayne’s mouth Darry lit up, literally, the entire rainbow and then some bathing the water around them in a halo. Darry pressed up against Wayne’s chest, hands sliding lightly up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

“A’right, bud. No awkward.”

Wayne almost choked when, as the words left the merman’s mouth, his head dipped down, teeth and lips grazing sensitive skin through fabric. He heard Darry take a deep inhale, chest rumbling like a cat.

“Take about 30% off ‘er there, Derry.” Wayne lifted his hand slowly to pat the merman’s arm and earned himself a toothy smile. Felt slimy as the bottom of the lake, for sure, but his hand wasn’t bit off and his new pal(?) didn’t even flinch, so he counted that as a win. Darry was a freaky lake monster, but Wayne could tell already that the guy was softer than 12-ply toilet paper. Even if he had a mouth full of lethal chompers.

“Now I’m gonna freeze if I stay in here any longer, so you better let me up.” Darry whined, all the anxiety and tension returning to him in an instant. His clawed hands tightened on Wayne’s shoulders.

“Wayne, don’ tell. Please.” Those huge eyes pinned Wayne with a pleading stare. “ ‘m a secret. No tell ‘nyone.”

Wayne rubbed Darry’s arm again, thinking it might calm him down some. “O’ course not. It’ll be our secret.” He paused, looking out over the water and then back to Darry. You didn’t meet a mermaid every day, that was for GD sure- and technically, Darry was his neighbor. It was always polite to maintain good relationships with your neighbors. “And if you like, I’ll come back and visit ya. That’s my house right over there.” He pointed.

That got Darry smiling again. Wayne heaved himself to his feet, dripping wet. The merman pulled away as he stood, eyes following the line of Wayne’s form as he straightened and peeled off his soaking flannel with a shiver. Playful hands tugged at his ankles, but didn’t drag him back down.

“Alright. See ya, Dar.” And with that Wayne tore his eyes away from his new friend, trudged up the bank toward the field and the house beyond it. He felt eyes stay steady on his back until he’d crested the hill.

#letterkenny #unbeta'd #wayne/darry #crack fic #not on ao3 yet idk if ill continue it

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frickfrackiwastakingabath · 2 years

Text

Back on my bullshit, did I ever really get off?

Anyway, I'll build the empires gt community from the ground up if I have to. I love gt fantasy settings.

I've also decided to call this au "wither rose fairies au" and it will be tagged as such.

A Little Help

No tws

...

Jimmy paced his bedroom. There was a ceremony in a week, one he was the star of. If he was like any previous Cod Father, Jimmy would make water like illusions in the sky of cod sigils, a start to a new year blessed by the fish the merlings of the swamp are descended from.

But no matter how much Jimmy tried, the spell won't work. His fingertips spark with green light, but nothing happens.

He looks at the folded up note on his desk.

NO. Jimmy didn't need help from a vermin of a fairy, one who wrote a very condescending letter at that.

And don't think he didn't notice how the fairy's "friends" had been tormenting him. Knocking things over, stealing anything he leaves alone for five seconds, stealing his lapis and drawing on his counters.

He could do this by himself. He's got this. He just needs to focus, practice. He will be the Cod Father the Empire expects him to be.

It was two days before the ceremony, and nothing. He was impatient. Hundreds of years of tradition, broken because of him.

He was getting desperate.

The morning sun was rising, and Jimmy had spent all of last night practicing to no avail. The cod chose him for a reason, unless it was all some fluke and Jimmy was going to be burnt at the stake for idolatry or false worship.

Jimmy's eye caught on a folded note on the kitchen counter by his cod aquarium. Didn't he leave that on his desk?

Jimmy gave a resigned sigh, stupid clever fairy. "Tay?"

...

Fwip and Sausage still had their eyes closed, breathing steady, glowing dimly. Asleep. It made sense for how early in the morning it was.

Gem was always up, writing down everything she remembered from the scrolls from the colony on the inside of the walls. While she would never guide the colony, like she was trained her whole life to do, she still could improve her and her friends' quality of their new life.

But, like always (But recently more so), Gem was tired. Sausage and Fwip joked she was nocturnal, falling asleep late in the morning and leaving the other two to their devices for the day. Writing things down in the night.

Gem was ripped out of her drowsiness hearing Jimmy yell. Of course she knew he was in the room she was writing on, attempting some sort of spell, really struggling. Her ears were alert for the name of her alias.

And he said it!

Gem jotted down a quick note on a paper scrap for Fwip and Sausage when they woke up, little white lies about taking a morning stroll and getting bearings in the swamp. She tip toed out of the wall, fluttering up behind the merling.

Gem dusted off her dress and hood, wanting to make a good first impression. She cleared her throat right by his ears.

Jimmy whipped around, Gem resisting the urge to flinch at the sudden giant movements. Was this a bad idea? No, Gem was smart and made good decisions. It was too late to back out now either way.

"Hello, Jimmy," Gem greeted, keeping her breath steady and slow. No books could prepare her for how big humanoids were face to face. "Lets take this outside."

...

Jimmy was more stunned than anything. Being honest, he kind of thought the letter was a prank.

But no, in front of him was a fairy. Tay wore a green leafy dress with a soft purple petal like cloak. On top her head covering her long red hair was a purple flower of the same color, looking like a wizard hat a bit too big for her. Her wings were delicate like a dragonfly, but when reflected in the star light were translucent purples and blues.

"Do I get to know your actual name? Jimmy asked once outside. They were in the temple garden, over run with vines and moss, a pond of cod in the center like every other structure in the empire.

"No," Tay answered, no hesitation whatsoever. "Can you show me the spell you're trying to do?"

Jimmy took the instructions out of his pocket, engraved on a stone tile. He held it up to Tay's eye level where she was flying.

"Its a ceremonial festive spell the Cod Father has to perform," Jimmy explained. Tay looked over unimpressed, like she already knew that. "The ceremony's tomorrow and I can't get it right. Can you help?"

Tay inspected the spell, nodding. "Lets see what we can do.

...

Gem flew back into the walls an hour or two later, feeling refreshed from the outside air. Especially compared to the stuffiness of the walls.

Fwip and Sausage were not where she left them, so they must be out borrowing. Gem collapsed on the pile of cloth and fuzz they've amassed since settling in here. Writing down magic was one thing, demonstrating it was another. Gem was exhausted, but glad she could help.

As her mind faded to sleep, Gem could barely hear the frustrated cries of Jimmy or her fairy friends' laughter.

...

The audience applauded Jimmy as he bowed, the magic sensation still ticking his finger tips. Only took the early hours of an morning, but Tay was a surprisingly good teacher.

The rest of the day was spent dancing and playing games, so Jimmy was spent when he got home. He made himself some food, his eye catching on something before he closed the cabinet.

Sweet crackers, a dessert snack common in the empire. Jimmy put one in his mouth forgetting how good they tasted, sad there were only a few left. He thought for a moment before pushing the jar to the ground. Terracotta and crackers went everywhere.

"Shoot!" Jimmy said, putting on his best mad voice. Luckily, some fairies have been making him very mad lately. "I'll clean that up tomorrow, a shame I'll have to get rid of all these."

Jimmy went up to his room, hoping Tay appreciated the thank you gift.

#empires g/t #mcyt gt #mcyt g/t #giant!jimmy #tiny!gem #wither rose fairies au

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allthingskakashi · 4 years

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could you do a hc where kakashi’s s/o gets kidnapped by zabuza and team 7 + kakashi has to go get them??

HC for Kakashi’s s/o Kidnapped by Zabuza & Team 7 on Rescue Mission

okay whew I wasn’t entirely sure how to write this, i feel like this became more of a scenario than a HC but umm i really hope it fulfills your expectations, anon!

a/n : This is mostly aligned with the actual Zabuza fight time period but here, Tsunade is Hokage and Sakura has basic medical ninjutsu skills.

Kakashi has just returned from a mission and he and his team of jounins report to the Hokage’s office upon their arrival, as per usual norms

But upon entering the office, Kakashi can tell something is not right. The atmosphere in the room is tense and Tsunade’s face looks grim

She orders all the other members but Kakashi to leave the room. She has something important to discuss with him, she announces.

Kakashi is sure by now that something is wrong and yours is the first face that appeares in his mind

If something happened to you, he’d never forgive himself.

He feels his heart starting to pick up pace as he waits in uncomfortable silence for the Hokage to speak

“Kakashi, I need to tell you something. and I need you to be calm.”

He can feel the thump of his heart in his ears. He waits, numerous questions swarming in his head. Where are you? Are you okay? What if something has happened to you?

“I’m afraid y/n has been kidnapped”, Tsunade’s voice booms. “The kidnapper has been identified as Zabuza, the demon of the Hidden Mist—

Kakashi doesn’t wait for her to finish the sentence before he whirls around, sprinting for the door, ready to leave immediately in your pursuit

“Kakashi, WAIT.” Tsunade stands up from her chair, her voice firm.

Kakashi stops, the palms of his hands balled into fists now. “Think with your mind, not with your heart. I will allow you to go, but not before you assemble a team. You’ll need back up. So, assemble a team and go. And Kakashi- “, she continues speaking to the copy ninja’s back, “--Don’t be reckless. I am certain that you will bring Y/n back safe and sound”

Within 5 minutes the original team 7 is assembled and they leave for the rescue mission

Kakashi’s blood is boiling within him but he knows he has got to keep a cool mind to be able to come up with a strategy

Naruto is worked up, fully ready for fight. “Who the heck does this clown think he is, kidnapping y/n sensei? I am Naruto Uzumaki and I give my word to you Kakashi sensei that we WILL bring Y/n sensei back safe”

This makes Sasuke let out a ridiculing “hmpf” but he doesn’t say much other than that.

Sakura has never seen her sensei so quiet and anxious. It worries her but she offers whatever words of comfort she can find

Unfortunately, the encouraging and comforting words of his students do nothing to make Kakashi feel better. He remains quiet as he tries his best to strategize

He keeps blaming himself in his head, bashing himself for letting this happen. Fear of losing you and anger towards the man who dared to kidnap you pools in his stomach.

Once in the Hidden Mist village, Kakashi sends his ninken to look for you while team 7 continues to search for you themselves

Pakkun comes back soon enough, having found a trail.

The impatience in Kakashi grows, but he’s ready for anything that will come his way. It’d be a lie to say that he isn’t scared but he knows he’ll put himself through the depths of hell before he lets anything happen to you.

Everyone follows Pakkun and they’re led to a large field, with a water body flowing right beside.

Kakashi’s eyes fall onto the stream of flowing water and there you are, imprisoned in a large bubble of water, which he can identify as the Water Prison jutsu.

His heart roars in his chest, he wants to run to you and free you but despite his instincts, he’s a ninja, and he knows better than to just run to you carelessly.

He surveys the surroundings. There’s no one around the prison, but that doesn’t mean there’s no one keeping an eye, watching them, waiting to make a move. A ninja must see through deception, he knows that.

He knows that to get to you he first needs to defeat the man who has imprisoned you. The sight of you in a water cage disturbs him, he wants to simply get over with whatever battle he must fight so that he can get to you.

But at least, he’s here now. You’re where he can see you and you’re safe. He’s here and he won’t let anything happen to you.

“Zabuza Momochi, you call yourself the Demon of the Hidden Mist? Stop hiding behind the shadows then and show yourself”, he bellows, the blood thirst in his voice palpable to anyone around. It sends a shiver through all three genin.

A booming voice appears suddenly behind in answer, reverberating through the thin air.

“Ahh…If it isn’t Kakashi Hatake, the copy ninja.” “I thought you’d never come”, the voice mocks.

The man behind the voice is none other than Zabuza Momochi, the Demon of the Hidden Mist himself.

He has a sturdy build, the look in his eyes just as chilling and blood thirsty as Kakashi’s. The three genin watch in awed horror.

Kakashi turns around, facing his opponent, their eyes meet and now the air is red, bubbling from both ninja’s intent to kill.

“Let Y/N Go.”, Kakashi demands, the ferocity in his voice concealing the growing fear in him.

“Or What? What will the copycat ninja do?”, Zabuza snickers.

“Or I will kill you”, his voice is unwavering, it is not an empty threat.

Suddenly there’s a dense mist blanketing the surroundings, and there’s nothing but thick white fog all around. So thick that the genin huddled together cannot even see each other. Their young minds are swaddled with curious questions, having never witnessed battle before.

“Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura!”, they hear their sensei’s voice permeating through the blinding fog. “Follow Pakkun to Y/n and stay there. No matter what happens, do not come between this fight. Go.”, he orders.

Sakura obeys, following the ninja dog to where you’re imprisoned, unconscious. The other two however, do not oblige, choosing to ignore all of Sakura’s insistent pleads.

Sakura stays beside you, dutifully keeping an eye over your unconscious body.

She struggles to try to see the battle that has ensued but the fog is so thick, her vision is obstructed.

She waits, for who knows how long, hours perhaps, worry growing inside her. She wants to know what’s happening, whether her teammates are okay, whether her sensei is okay.

Just when she cannot take it anymore, she notices the opaque white fog starting to fade, slowly becoming translucent.

She sees two figures far ahead, sprinting towards hers and your direction, Kakashi at the very front, followed by the blonde ninja, and Sasuke sauntering behind them, not in any particular hurry.

The water bubble beside her bursts with a loud boom, spilling water all over her and all around, as your unconscious body falls to the ground with a thud.

Sakura immediately hunches over you, her medic ninja instincts kicking in

Kakashi is by your head now, crouching down and pulling your head into his lap.

“Y/n! Open your eyes.”, he speaks between wheezing breaths, his throat dry from exhaustion.

Sakura jumps to action, putting her hands on you as a green glow emits from her palms. “Don’t worry Kakashi sensei, Y/n sensei is alright.”

Your eyes open slowly, first in flutters and then fully wide.

Your vision is blurry at first but you can make out a man with silver hair hanging over his head, stooped over you—Kakashi.

Your mouth is dry, you can’t form words. Your eyes slowly fall upon the other three ninja around you—Kakashi’s team.

“Y/n!” Kakashi says, pulling your limp body close and hugging you to him, one arm around you and the other on the back of your head, holding your upper body up. “You’re okay…Thank you, Sakura.”

Sakura moves on to heal the other two, both of them wounded, although not as much as their sensei

Kakashi himself is covered in wounds of all kinds, cuts and scratches; blood and dirt smeared on every part of him, but he denies all offers of treatment for the time being. Right now, he’s just glad to have you back

Guilt and relief flood his heart as he holds you tight, silently thanking some supreme power for returning you safe to him, while vowing to himself never to let anything happen to you ever again

Sasuke mutters a clearly audible “disgusting” under his breath at this sight as Naruto and Sakura let out a collective “awww”, making Kakashi suddenly aware of his genin audience as he releases you of his hold to help you up, slinging your arm around his neck.

Once everyone’s healed, you set out, the entire squad and you, back on the way home to your village as Team 7 completes its first successful mission.

208 notes · View notes