#I DIDN'T KNOW SHE'S TRIED TO LEAVE HIM BEFORE??

[celiababy]

Ain't Right part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: It's the holiday season and Joel is a Scrooge.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, age gap (56/20), swearing, p in v, unprotected sex, size kink, oral sex (m!receiving), SQUIRT, creampie, threats of violence, alcohol

Celia's note: uhm hello??? what the flip thank y'all sm for all the love on my first post!! I got so many requests to make a part 2 so dinner's ready y'all dig in!!!!

Read the first part! > part 1

Jackson looked so pretty this time of year. The Christmas lights, the snowmen, the comfy sweaters and chocolate chip cookies; you loved it all.

Especially gift-giving.

To you, there was really nothing better than seeing someone's face light up when they open a present.

This year, there was someone special you planned to go all out for.

It had been 3 days since Joel Miller fucked you in his house, on his bed.

You hadn't stopped replaying the moment in your mind, especially the part when he finished all over your stomach.

However, it just so happens that after those amazing thirty minutes, Joel was called away by Tommy.

He had to leave and do something that you weren't allowed to know about. Undoubtedly some dangerous mission that pained you to think about.

So your victory was short-lived.

But, like the gentleman he was, he walked you home and made sure you were okay before he left. You wanted to kiss him goodbye, but felt too nervous to do so.

You don't know why—he literally had his cock in you a few moments prior.

Yet you couldn't, and just had to watch him walk away.

Now, you haven't seen him in three days and were starting to get serious withdrawals. Whatever he was up to couldn't have come at a worse time.

You finally had the taste of his perfection, now he was gone, leaving you to deal with your desire alone.

You tried to preoccupy yourself with helping set up all the Christmas decorations around town as well as baking an absurd amount of treats.

You also managed to get him a little gift in the meantime, stuffing it in the cutest box with the prettiest wrapping paper.

God, you hoped he'd come back soon.

And luckily, he did!

You had heard from Maria that everyone had returned from their trip—safe and sound.

She had also told you that she was throwing a little Christmas get-together at her and Tommy's house to celebrate.

She was careful to mention that Joel would be in attendance.

So, that night, you whipped up your signature cinnamon apple recipe and put on your cutest outfit.

You topped it with some fuzzy reindeer antlers because you were in a very festive mood.

As you walked alone to Maria and Tommy's, you were freezing your ass off in your skirt and sweater. You wore tights with your skirt in hopes that it would help with the cold, but who were you kidding?

You didn't care, though. You just cared if Joel thought you looked pretty or not.

You pranced up the steps of their porch, letting yourself into the house and getting immediately bombarded by the hoard of people inside.

Maria made it seem like it was going to be a small thing, but the entire Jackson population seemed to be in her living room.

Thankfully, Tommy catches you come in and walks up to greet you. "Hey there stranger," He grins, looking down at the dish in your hands. "What you got there?"

"Brought desert," You chirp, handing it to him with a proud smile.

"Well well," He muses as he takes the glass container from you, looking it over with surprise. "Didn't think you could tie your own shoes, let alone bake anything."

You roll your eyes before scoffing. "You're just mad because I can tie my shoes and bake something before you can conjure a coherent thought."

Tommy fakes a wince before chuckling. "Alright, touché kid. We're gonna be playing charades in a little bit so stick around, alright?"

You nod, having absolutely no intention of 'sticking around' for charades. Tommy wanders off with your apples, finally giving you a moment to survey the party.

Obviously, you were looking for one person in particular.

You squeezed through all the crowds of people, scouring what felt like every room in the house.

But no dice.

Joel was nowhere to be found and sadness washes over you like a tidal wave.

Was he doing this on purpose?

Torturing you by depriving you of his presence? This was hell.

You plant yourself by the special eggnog and down several glasses to take the edge off.

You were tipsy in no time, it really didn't take much. It was like Maria just dumped an entire bottle of vodka in the bowl and splashed some milk in it. It was disgusting, really, but it was getting its job done.

As you hunched yourself over the bowl, someone tapped you on your shoulder.

You spin around, your hopes high.

"Joel!—Oh. Hi Connor." The disappointment you feel inside displays clearly in your tone.

You're now face to face with the boy who has been unsubtly trying to sleep with you for months.

"Hey there! You look fucking great tonight." He flirts, a smug grin on his face.

You grimace because you know he thinks he's so cool, even though you'd rather die than stand here with him right now.

"Thanks." You say flatly, turning back towards the eggnog and pouring yourself another glass. For some reason, Connor takes this as an invitation to step closer, now invading your space.

You don't even bother trying to hide your disgusted expression. His cologne is attacking your nostrils, and it doesn't even smell good.

"That skirt looks amazing on you." His eyes unabashedly drag along the skin of your legs, making you shiver in disgust. He takes it too far when his hand comes up to brush your arm.

"You come here with anyone?" He coos, leaning against the food table like he was hot shit or something.

You couldn't stand this douche. Just as you were about to tell him to fuck off or something, you feel someone looming over you.

"She did." A gruff voice comes from behind you, and you immediately recognize that it could only be one person.

You whip around, your face lighting up at the sight of Joel.

His expression is settled into a natural scowl, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed at the boy in front of you both. Even though he looked scary as shit, he was so fucking hot.

You're instantly horny just at the sight of him.

Connor scoffs, looking between the two of you, but your eyes stayed glued to Joel.

"Really? Him? But he's like—an old man." Connor spits, which immediately earns a glare from you.

Just as you're about to cuss him out, Joel beats you to it.

"Walk away before this old man breaks your jaw." His voice is stern, not to be tested.

It makes your core tighten with need.

Hearing the threat that he assumes to be all too real, Connor doesn't waste time scurrying off.

You turn back towards Joel, a warm, relieved smile spreading across your face. “Hi,” You whisper, wanting to hug him so bad but holding yourself back because he wasn’t a big fan of PDA. “M'so glad you're back." You do, however, step closer into his personal bubble.

His face softens when he finally looks down at you, and you can almost swear you see his lips curling up into a smile.

"Yeah, me too, kid." He husks out, looking between you and the bowl of half-empty eggnog. "Enjoyin' yourself?" He asks with somewhat of a disappointed look on his face, clocking that you were a little tipsy.

"Now I am." You answer truthfully, beaming up at him. "Have you been here the whole time? I was looking for you earlier but I couldn't find you."

Joel shifted on his feet, sliding his hands in his pockets. "Just got here. Tommy was talkin' my ear off at the door." He explained, an exasperated look on his face.

You laughed and nodded, knowing you both shared that experience.

"Are you having a good time, though?" You ask, actually curious because he seemed like he would rather be anywhere else right now.

He shrugs, brushing a hand through his short hair. "This Christmas holiday crap is givin' me a fuckin' aneurysm." He huffs out with complete honestly, scratching the back of his neck.

"What? Really? Why?" The shock and bewilderment in your voice isn't lost on Joel.

He sighs out, knowing you're about to explain the magical spirit of the season or whatever.

"The blizzards, people spazzin' out over gifts, all 'cause some fat guy is coming down chimneys—s'all just ridiculous."

You want to giggle at how actually annoyed he sounded, but you hold it down.

Grouchy old man.

"I'd let you come down my chimney," you flirt, but then correct yourself. "I have let you come down my—"

Joel shoots you a glare, daring you to finish your sentence.

You know when to cut your losses, so you don't.

"Well, speaking of gifts," You start, rummaging in your bag to pull out your present for him. You hold it up, the pink wrapping paper making him cock an eyebrow. "Merry Christmas, Scrooge."

Joel feels an unfamiliar feeling swimming around in his stomach at the sight.

He slowly takes the box from you, looking at it like it was a puzzle.

He really wasn't expecting anything from you. But he supposed people who have had the other persons genitals inside them should probably give them something for Christmas.

He finds himself very pleasantly surprised.

After a moment, he finds something to say.

"Couldn't find some manlier wrapping paper?" He coughs, his voice low but it's obvious he's joking with you.

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Just open it!"

Joel somewhat grins at your impatience but finally starts to open the box.

That grin drops off his face after he sees the contents, an immediate bittersweet feeling swelling in his chest.

You're watching his face so intently, so scared that he didn't like it based on his reaction.

Joel pulls out the watch from the box, clutching it tightly. He's not saying anything, so you hear yourself start to ramble.

"Do you like it? I just saw that the watch you wear is broken so I figured I'd get you a new one. If you don't like it I can take it back."

You're starting to crumble underneath the weight of his silence, anxiety bubbling in your gut. Just as you're about to ask him if he's okay, Joel finally looks back at you.

"S'real great. Thank you." His tone is genuine, you can tell he's telling the truth. But why does he look so pained?

"Of course." Your murmur, your eyes searching his. After a moment of silence, you clear your throat. "There's one more thing, actually."

Joel's shoulder slump. "You got me another present?" He asked tiredly, looking at you with disbelief.

A guilty smile paints your face before you gesture for Joel to follow you. "It's upstairs. C'mon."

He doesn't know how much more his heart could handle.

Reluctantly, he follows you up the stairs, wondering why you had a gift waiting for him in Tommy's guest bedroom.

You open the door and close it behind you both, purposefully not turning the lights on.

Joel walks into the center of the room, standing aimlessly and confused as to why you hadn’t flipped the light switch yet.

But then he hears the rustling of clothes and when you eventually turn the lights on, you're wearing nothing but a bra and panties.

His cock immediately gets hard.

"What do ya think you're doin'?" He whisper yells, trying to keep his eyes on your face but that proves to be impossible because your tits looked so good in lace.

"What? You don't like it? I bought it for you." You give him a 360 and he has to brace himself against the bed.

Fuck you looked good.

He sits down on the mattress, dragging a hand down his jaw in thought.

He's debating if he's really about to fuck you in his brother's house.

Why were you always making him go against his morals?

A few seconds of silence pass between the two of you before Joel snaps his eyes back to your figure.

"C'mere."

Got 'em.

You squeal excitedly before running over, slotting yourself between his legs and placing your hands on his shoulders.

In turn, his large hands come out to hold your hips, his gaze zeroing in on your perfect-looking cleavage that he was now eye-level with.

Just as he was about to slide his hands up to grope your breasts, you sink down to the floor.

Joel's puzzled as he watches you get on your knees, looking up at him with those mischievous eyes. He truly has no clue what you're up to, that is, until you bring your lips to the bulge in his jeans.

You place the softest kiss on his clothed hard-on, earning a groan from him.

Now he knows what you're trying to do.

He juts his hand out, holding you firm by your shoulder.

"You ain't gotta do that, sweetheart." Joel says softly, probably the softest you've ever heard him say anything.

Your body erupts in goosebumps when you hear the endearing pet name slip so effortlessly from his lips.

"I want to—been wanting to since, like, forever." You murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his inner thigh.

Joel wasn't sure what to think right now.

His past romantic experiences taught him that blowjobs were a hassle for women—something that they did only if they felt they had to.

But here you were, looking up at him with those wide eyes and wanting nothing more than his dick in your mouth.

You surprise him everyday.

His dick has literally never been harder, especially when you finally start unzipping his pants to let it spring free.

You gaze up at him again, waiting for his green light.

Joel had one hand white-knuckling the edge of the bed, while the other gently caressed the side of your head.

He offers a short nod of approval, already trying not to come just by the sight of his cock so close to your face.

You waste absolutely no time in grabbing the base of his dick with both hands, gingerly licking at his tip to warm him up.

Joel throws his head back, groaning at the feeling.

You tilt it up so you can drag your tongue all the way up his shaft, then bring your mouth down on his tip.

"Fuck," Joel curses, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment before snapping back open, not being able to look away from you.

Tears are falling from your eyes the farther you go down on him, the sensation of his head poking the back of your throat was making you dizzy.

But you don't stop. You're eager to please.

Your hands pump at the length you can't reach, while your warm mouth and tongue swirl around him.

You're too good at this, and Joel knows he's not gonna last long.

He can't help it when his hand in your hair turns into a fist, tightly gripping the strands like he was afraid you might go somewhere.

You moan when he accidentally pulls your hair forwards, forcing you deep on his cock. You bet he didn't even realize what he just did, based on the way his chest was heaving and his face looked so lost in pleasure.

You gag and more tears spill from your eyes, but you don't even dream about lifting off. If Joel was getting off on this, you were going to do more of it.

You moan, still keeping his cock in your mouth as you try to go even deeper down on it.

"Oh fuck—" Joel suddenly yanks your mouth off his cock, breathing heavily as he stares down at you.

You cough and sputter at the loss, looking up at him with that same fucked out expression you had last time.

"Why?" You manage to whine, wondering why he stopped you before he came.

Joel doesn't answer—instead he picks you up by your armpits and places you on the bed.

The quick change almost gives you whiplash, but Joel's surprisingly steady and husky voice guides you.

"On your stomach, pretty girl." He mutters as he taps your leg in a gesturing manner.

...Was he trying to kill you with that bedroom voice of his?

A whimper crawls its way out of your throat, your body having an audible reaction to his sweet words.

You flip over onto your stomach, instantly arching your back for him.

Being the impatient man he was, he rips your panties and throws them to the side in a lust-driven blur.

You literally didn't even care. Sure, they were new, but you'd just find another pair. The only two thoughts in your mind right now was Joel and Joel's dick.

Something warm and soft prods at your entrance before slipping to wedge between your folds, gathering up your slick.

You try to push back on it, but Joel holds you still, making you lose the rest of the small amount of composure you had left.

"Joelpleasefuckme," You sob, your cunt weeping for his cock. "need you so bad it hurts,"

You reach back, your hand finding his that was holding your hip and squeezing it.

Joel didn't want to admit to himself how much he loved the neediness in your voice, your obvious desperation made him harder.

"M'gettin' there, don't gotta beg me baby." He mutters, his hand that you grabbed intertwining with your fingers. His other hand was rubbing circles in the skin around your hips.

You feel that same sensation of his tip, but then Joel also brings his chest down to engulf your back.

You're already trembling, but when he begins to pepper kisses down the nape of your neck and back, all while slowly sheathing himself inside your pussy...

You effectively lose your mind.

"OhFUCKJoelloveitsomuch," You blabber, not having enough strength to hold yourself up anymore so your head drops into a pillow, muffling your moans.

Effortlessly, he pulls you back up so that your back is flush with his chest, his one arm wrapped around your stomach to keep you secure.

You rest the back of your head on his shoulder as she starts rocking into you, letting your body go limp because you know he's got you.

"Can you take it or do I need'a stop?" He asks, his tone making you dizzier.

You frantically nod, turning your head to the side to look at him. "I can take it, promise I can," you muster out between moans. "please don't stop—want your cock in me forever-"

Joel chuckles.

God, he really never stood a chance against you.

"I don't know about forever sweet thing, but I'll see what I can do for tonight, yeah?"

You giggle airily, like you weren't all there, nodding your head in acknowledgement. Your eyes are closed for a second but you feel his lips on yours, hungrily taking whatever they wanted.

You passionately return his kiss, mewling into it because his lips paired with the slow thrust of his dick was enough to drive you crazy.

The stretch of his cock is as close to heaven as you're ever gonna get.

His speed picks up which means your moans get louder, and Joel has no choice put to bring his other hand up and cover your mouth.

There's still a party going on downstairs, after all.

"Gotta be quieter baby," he pants, even though he's not slowing down his speed at all.

You whine into his hand, surprisingly loving the feeling of it because it's like he's swallowing you whole.

You feel that tight coil in your stomach slowly start to come undone, and you know you won't last long now. You try to tell Joel, but his hand is muffling your noises.

All the sudden, he speaks in your ear—his voice low and raspy. "Don't want you doin' this with anyone else, hear me?"

...Well.

You weren't expecting that.

His words probably made you soak the sheets because of how wet you became.

He sounded so stern when he said it too, making your heart flutter even more.

You nod, tears pouring from your eyes. He lets his hand off your mouth for a moment and you immediately jump at the opportunity to speak.

"Only want you, only ever wanted you, Joel—m'all yours, always been yours," You mewl after gasping for air, your body jolting with each of his deep thrusts.

"Fuck," Joel swears, quickly but carefully putting you down only to flip you over onto your back. Now in missionary, he buries himself all the way inside you again before dropping down so your faces are centimeters apart. "All mine, huh?" Joel reiterates, and you can't tell if he's mocking you or maybe asking for clarification.

Probably the ladder.

You agree nonetheless, a string of yes's spilling from your mouth.

"Yeah, just for me." He pants, slamming into you with more vigor than before. Your cunt is constricting around him like a vice, he's—not planning to last much longer either.

"M'gonna cum," you whine, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for support.

When Joel hears this, he drops a hand down to rub at your clit, making you come undone altogether.

"Ohfuckohfuckohfuck waitwait Joel-" You feel something..unique boiling, but then Joel's expert fingers release the flood gates.

You scream as you squirt all over his cock, your entire body writhing with the overstimulating pleasure.

Your juices soak him. When he see's this, he comes immediately.

He groans as he finishes inside you, unloading into your snug cunt. The feeling is incomparable for the both of you.

Once the haze of perfect pleasure dissipates, Joel realizes what he's just done.

"Shit," he grits, pulling out and watching his seed drip from your hole. "Fuck."

You manage to sit up on your elbows, looking up at him with teary eyes. "Don't worry," Your voice is quiet and cracked—you just had the squirt fucked out of you, after all. "I've been on the pill since we had sex the first time."

Joel looks down at you, stupefied.

Eventually, he feels his heart start beating again and huffs out a sigh of relief. "Thank christ." He leans back against the headboard, raking a hand through his hair and thinking about how that was a fucking close one.

You're lying next to him, still trying to catch your breath. "That felt so good," You manage to murmur, your body still shivering from the after shocks.

After you catch your breath, you turn your head to look up at him. "M'serious about what I said, about bein' yours."

He looks at you and your serious face for a moment, then brings his hand down to gently ruffle the top of your head.

"Yeah, I know you are." His texan drawl prominent.

"I'd let you brand me with a fire poker if thats what you wanted." You say flatly, no joking tone in your voice whatsoever.

Joel is taken back by the sudden jump in intensity, assessing you to make sure you were being for real.

You were, and when he realizes this, he shakes his head. "You've lost your damn mind." He grunts, dragging a hand down his face.

You shrug.

"I think a ring would do the trick." Joel mutters, not meaning for it to have some kind of underlying message or anything. But you're quick to jump to conclusions.

"A ring?" You squeal, moving to lay on his chest which earns a huff from him. "Didn't know we were already goin' steady like that, Miller!" You tease, the giddiest smile on your face.

"I didn't mean—quit. You know what I was sayin'." Joel grunts, looking at you with an unamused expression.

You don't quit though.

"My ring finger is a size 6, would love 2 carats but if you can swing for 3 that would be perfect—also, I hate silver bands, it has to be gold—but make sure it's not that super yellow fake gold, I like more rustic looks, I mean, if that wasn't obvious-" You cast him a glance, alluding to the fact that he was rustic looking.

Joel rolls his eyes before gently nudging you off him, getting off the bed and walking over to your clothes that you discarded a long time ago.

You continue rambling from your position on the sheets, staring up at the ceiling as you recited, in extreme detail, how you loved oval shaped diamonds the most.

He walks back over and manhandles you to sit up. "Lift up your arms." He mutters, putting your sweater back on you.

"Hm, gettin' some serious deja vu right now." You murmur, smiling up at him.

"Yeah, yeah, hush." He grumbles before sliding your tights and skirt back on as well.

The act is so kind and heartwarming. You mumble a thank you before standing up, almost falling back down because your legs were still a bit weak.

Joel made a motion like he would've caught you, reaching his arms out. "Careful." He warns, planting a hand on your lower back for stability. You giggle and nod, regaining your ability to walk slowly but surely.

You guys tried to discretely walk back down the stairs, but with Joel's hand on your back and your happy expression--it wasn't hard for people to guess what happened.

***

A couple days had passed since Tommy and Maria's party.

You were finishing up some hand-made Christmas cards on your desk when you heard a knock at your door.

"Coming!" You shout, leisurely making your way to the front door.

When you open it, no one's there. You look around, only seeing a familiar male figure walking away in the distance. When you step outside to shout after him, you feel yourself kick something.

Upon looking down, a small velvet box lays at your feet.

You pick it up carefully, opening it to reveal a gold ring placed so delicately inside. The small note inside reads:

Merry Christmas. -Scrooge

[ssahotchnerr]

pleasepleaseplease, if you're willing ofc 🫶, can we get a little something where jack is trying his absolute hardest to get hotch and r together during the christmas season?! (i can only imagine the romcom chaos and deliciousness that'll involve haha!) 🙏❤️🎄

mistletoe mischief

the dream!!!!! & jack receives some assistance from morgan also :) cw; bau fem!reader, mutual pining, mentions of food, typical cm case talk, bau family banter, feelings realized (with some making out <3), fluff 🤭 wc; 1.5k

It had become tradition for everyone to go to Dave's house for Christmas Eve. And that meant everyone - the team, the kids, partners. The more the merrier.

It was a time to enjoy each other's company, laugh, exchange gifts and indulge in delicious food and treats. It was a nice reprieve from the hectic stress that the holidays brought, and everyone was happy to have it.

Whereas Jack had a different approach to the night. He had decided, that tonight would be the night you and his dad got together. He would make sure of it.

Only, it wasn't as easy as he thought.

All night Jack's done what he could, in hopes of initiating something between the two of you. Dinner was easy, he had sweetly asked you to switch seats with him - how could you have possibly said no? He persuaded his father to team up with you for the 'reindeer games', like holiday bingo, or unscrambling Christmas songs. That had been a small victory; Aaron giving you a celebratory hug when you were the first to call bingo.

But it still wasn't what he hoped. Things like that worked at school, if someone had a crush on another - they sat together in the cafeteria, they teamed up as partners in class, they played together at recess. (Sadly it was snowing outside, and Uncle Dave didn't have a swing set.)

Defeated, Jack found himself slouching on the couch, pouting alone.

Morgan had been the first to notice his minor sulking, making his way over. "What's on your mind big man?"

"Nothing." He mumbled under his breath, picking at the cookies on the plate you had put together for him.

"Nothing? For someone Santa's visiting tonight, you don't look very excited." He sat down, giving Jack's shoulder a pat, an invitation to open up. "Wanna tell me what's up?"

Jack kept his eyes on his treats, toying with the idea of sharing before sighing, asking if Dad liked you. Like really, liked you.

Derek's lips pursed. His expression changed to one of uncertainty, mulling over the situation.

"That's the million dollar question right there. We think so," Derek confessed, thinking back to all the times where you and Aaron seemed much too comfortable. The constant, lingering stares. Aaron going soft on you at times. The fear in your eyes when Hotch had encountered an unsub at gunpoint. This had occurred recently, and afterwards when Hotch was deemed safe and sound, you had refused to leave his side altogether.

"What have you seen? I'm sure you know what's going on more than the rest of us."

Jack nodded, perking up slightly at his uncle's vague admittance. His lips pulled into a smile, "Well, she is over a lot."

Derek grinned, his head tilting to the side. "Really."

"Yeah," Jack took a bite of his cookie. "We have a lot of fun. She brings over pizza for movie night every Friday if she and Dad aren't working. Cheese for me. Pepperoni and sausage for her and Dad."

"They share, huh?"

"And then Dad spent a lot of time picking out her Christmas present. But they haven't kissed." Jack sighed frustratedly, an innocent confusion on his face. "That's what grown ups do when they love each other, right?"

"It is pretty standard," Derek affirmed, amused himself at the confirmation something was, in fact, going on. It's only been driving the team crazy for weeks.

He, as well as the others, have confronted you about it numerous times, knowing that if they went to Hotch instead, he would confess nothing. But you reacted similarly. A shrug and a "just friends" before switching to a different topic.

"I tried all night too." Jack's bottom lip protruded in a pout once more. "But nothing works."

"Well..." A smile formed on Derek's face. "Maybe you just need a little extra help."

-

"Rally up the troops." Penelope clapped at you, to which you snorted an airy laugh through your nose. "Don't just sit there. I have been shopping since Halloween and I've masterly selected each and every gift and I have been itching to see all your reactions. I almost gave you yours two weeks ago."

"Okay, okay," You surrendered, throwing your hands up. You knew better than to face Penelope's driven wrath.

"You better," Her expression was sharp, pointing a warning finger at you. She hurried away as another laugh escaped you, while you also opted to take one more drink.

As she left the room, Jack entered.

"Hey Jackers," Your face brightened at the sight of him, putting your drink aside. "I heard it's almost time for presents." You raised your eyebrows, a soft smile on your face. "You excited?"

Jack nodded, a glint in his eyes. It was rather mischievous, similar to the one he gave Aaron when he wanted to delay going to bed early, only much more so. "Can you help me with something first?"

"Of course I can," You agreed within a split second's notice. Jack grabbed your hand and led you away just as fast. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah."

He led you towards Dave's foyer. It was dimly lit, shoes scattered amongst the welcome mat. God forbid someone stained Dave's carpeting.

Aaron and Morgan were just coming back inside; Aaron looked a bit agitated, per usual, while Derek was sporting his famous, cheeky grin.

" - I don't know why you would say that." Aaron continued, tossing an annoyed look over his shoulder to Morgan. As his gaze returned forward, and made eye contact with you, the softness in his face returned instantly.

"Is everything okay?" You wondered, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you and Jack came to a stop.

"Morgan said my car alarm was going off." Aaron shoved his keys back into his pocket, leaving Morgan's side and favoring yours. "And evidently lied."

"Lied?" A laugh escaped you, perplexedly looking at Morgan, seeking an explanation as well.

"My bad." He waved it off, giving Jack a wink. That was suspicious, but he switched topics before anything could be said. "Oh, would you look at that."

His hand raised, his index finger pointing upwards, directing right between you and Aaron. Both your gazes followed.

Mistletoe.

Oh.

Your eyes shot to Derek's, wide and surprised. In contrast, Aaron's face remained neutral, but a deep blush was growing on his cheeks, as well tinting his ears.

"Well, we'll leave you two to it." He left it at that, shrugging nonchalantly before gesturing Jack away.

"What... Jack?" You started, turning around. "I thought you needed..."

The two of them were gone before you could finish your sentence. However, you did view the tail end of Derek giving Jack a high five.

So, they had been in cahoots. You scoffed a laugh, shaking your head.

Now alone, your eyes connected with Aaron's, who was standing there rather anxiously. Naturally, there was a touch of tension in the air, but it wasn't awkward by any means. A mutual excitement, as well as relief. An electricity.

Aaron hadn't been anxious, but buzzing with anticipation.

You've been wanting to kiss him. He's been yearning to kiss you. The time had just never been right, nor had it the perfect moment. In addition, there was always the fear of rejection.

And suddenly you felt like an idiot for even contemplating such, because from the longing you noticed within his pupils, you've always been on the same page.

Aaron chucked, stating the obvious and peering back up at the mistletoe. "I think we were set up."

"You don't say." You quipped in response, a nervous laugh escaping you. Oh my god was repeatedly circling in your head. You shifted your weight from one foot to another. There was so much you wanted to say, having gone through the potential conversation in your mind more times than you could count. But now, as the opportunity finally presented itself - nothing.

Aaron on the other hand, simply decided to show you.

He wasted no time - his confidence was quite literally the hottest thing you could fathom. All in one smooth motion, his hand cupped your cheek and he placed his lips firmly onto yours.

A spark of energy rushed through you, the both of you in fact. Every nerve in your body was suddenly alive and heightened. Your fingers clutched onto the sides of his shirt, reciprocating the passion.

Aaron's kiss was gentle, his fingertips rough but incredibly soft where they rest against your skin. It made sense, it mirrored him perfectly. A hard exterior, but tender underneath.

And longing to be even closer, Aaron shoved you lightly against the wall, slotting a leg between your thighs. That way, he could lose himself more into you, and you could fully succumb to him.

Your head was fuzzy, feeling lightheaded in the best way possible as your heart fluttered in your chest. Now that Aaron had kissed you, you were done for. From now on, you refused to go each day without receiving another. You couldn't.

"We're missing presents." You teased once the two of you pulled away for air, cheeks flushed. And immediately missing his contact, your lips easily found their way back to his. You could feel his smile, a happy sigh leaving him.

"They can wait."

[jamesmcalover]

entangled - pt 1

Dimitri Kravinoff x Reader

Warnings: slight angst maybe?? vulnerability, Dimitri is inecure & has daddy issues :(

Summary: Reader was hired to steal something from Dimitri Kravinoff

5.2k words

Breaking into a place like this wasn't supposed to be hard.

Y/N crouched by the door of Dmitri Kravinoff's apartment, her lockpicks glinting faintly in the dim hallway light. The silence of the building was oppressive, almost too quiet, but that was exactly how she liked it. The faint smell of expensive leather and something else – something musky, like cigar smoke – hung in the air.

The information her boss had given her was frustratingly vague, just that Dmitri, the youngest Kravinoff, was in possession of an artifact that could 'change the game.' All she'd been told was that it was a 'special knife.' Why it mattered wasn't her concern.

Her job was simple: get in, grab it, and get out. Something she'd done countless times before, slipping into the shadows, taking what wasn't hers, and slipping out without leaving a trace. She'd never failed.

The lock clicked open, and Y/N slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind her. The place was dark but far from empty. Moonlight spilled through half-drawn curtains, casting shadows on bookshelves, a cluttered desk, and a mounted map on the wall. It was nicer than she'd expected, but it didn't feel like a home.

She found the knife easily enough, displayed in a glass case above the fireplace. There, resting on a velvet cushion, was the knife. It shined in the dim light. The Kravinoff crest engraved on the handle caught her eye, and she frowned. She'd expected something a little less… personal.

Doesn't matter, she reminded herself. Her fingers were already outstretched, reaching for the display case. Just another job. Nothing more.

The lights flicked on.

Y/N spun, her hand instinctively moving toward the small blade strapped to her thigh. But Dmitri, so she thought, was already there, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a faint smirk on his face, but the way his hands trembled slightly gave him away.

"You know," he said, his voice low and even, "I'd ask how you got in, but I’m more curious about why you thought you'd get out."

Y/N took a step back, already calculating her next move. "I don't want any trouble, Dimitri," she said, trying to keep her tone even. She wasn't sure why, but there was something unsettling about him. His hands were clenched tight, and there was an edge of desperation in his eyes.

His smirk faltered, and for a moment, his guard dropped. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he stepped forward with jerky movements, as if trying to command some authority that wasn’t there. "Who are you?" His voice cracked, and his jaw tightened. He clearly wasn't used to this.

Y/N took a step to the side, ready to dodge around him. Dimitri flinched, but before she could move, he grabbed for her arm, not with the strength of someone who had planned this out, but with the panic of someone desperate to stop her. She easily twisted out of his grip.

"I can't let you leave. Not with-," he said, voice tight. He wasn't fighting with confidence, but with an almost erratic energy, like he was terrified of what might happen if she escaped. His fear wasn’t just physical, it was as if he was holding on to this moment for some other reason.

Y/N hesitated. This wasn't the Dimitri she had expected. She had assumed he would be like the rest of his family. Cold, calculated, a master of control. But here he was, vulnerable and unsteady.

With a sudden, desperate lunge, he reached for her. His movements were jagged and uncoordinated, more out of panic than control. She instinctively stepped back to dodge, but he caught her arm, pulling her toward him with an almost frantic energy.

She tried to twist away, but Dimitri's grip was tighter now, and in a blur of motion, they both went tumbling to the ground. The air was knocked from her lungs as they crashed, and for a split second, everything seemed to slow. But then the edge of a table slammed against the side of her head.

A sharp pain exploded in her skull, and everything went black.

When Y/N's eyes fluttered open again, she was groggy, disoriented. Her head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing with each heartbeat. The world around her was a blur, but she could just make out the dim light of the apartment, the faint scent of leather and smoke still lingering.

It took a moment to register the feeling of rough rope cutting into her wrists.

Dimitri was sitting across the room, picking at the skin on his fingers nervously. He seemed less the confident figure from before, more like someone desperately trying to keep it together.

Y/N tested the ropes around her wrists, her mind clearing faster now. She was in a tight spot, but this wasn't a total loss yet.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Y/N" Dimitri said without turning his head to face her, his voice firm but not unkind. Y/N frowned slightly, almost unnoticeable, when he mentioned her name. He found out who you were. "But you shouldn't be here."

Y/N smirked, even as she flexed her wrists against the ropes. "Did you really think tying me up would stop me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're not exactly in control here, Dimitri."

He stopped at that, his shoulders stiffening, but he didn't respond right away. When he finally turned, his eyes met hers with a cold resolve. "I'm not trying to stop you from leaving. I'm trying to stop you from taking what's mine."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "The knife? You really think your father's going to notice you for this?" Her voice was softer now, probing.

Dimitri's expression faltered for a brief moment. Just a flicker, but it was there. Why did this woman know so much about his family? "I don't need his approval," he said, though his voice lacked the conviction it had earlier. "Who the fuck sent you?"

For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other, a silent standoff. Y/N's mind was racing, considering her options. She wasn't going to escape from the ropes without help, and she wouldn't give out information about the people who hired her so easily. She still needed that money she'd been promised.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with renewed interest. "You're not really going to keep me here forever, are you? I mean, we both know you don't want that. You don't want me tied up in your apartment," she said, ignoring his question.

His gaze flicked to the ropes around her wrists, and his jaw clenched. He seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, the internal battle playing out across his face.

He didn't answer right away, instead taking a step closer to her. The distance between them was still significant, but she could feel the weight of his attention, the way he studied her, as if trying to decide if he could trust her.

"I don't know," he admitted after a long pause. "I don't know what's worse. Letting you go or… keeping you here. But either way, I won't just give up the knife. It’s mine."

Before Y/N could respond, a loud knock echoed from the hallway, followed by the sound of footsteps. Dimitri's body stiffened, his eyes wide. He turned abruptly, his gaze locking on the door, panic flashing across his face.

Y/N's pulse quickened. Dimitri wasn't exactly subtle in his reaction, and she could tell that whoever was coming wasn't someone he wanted to see.

Dimitri quickly moved across the room, a frantic urgency in his steps. "You need to hide," he hissed under his breath, rushing toward her. "Now."

Before Y/N could even ask what was going on, Dimitri was untangling the ropes around her wrists, his hands quick but rough. "Move," he urged, not meeting her eyes. "I'll deal with this. You just- stay quiet."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor. She could've run. He wasn't just afraid, he was terrified. But before she could say anything, he half-guided, half-shoved her toward another room. She didn't run.

"Stay in here. Don't make a sound," he whispered, practically shoving her into the room before quickly closing the door behind her.

Y/N stood still in the dark, her heart racing. She could hear Dimitri's footsteps retreating to the living room, just as the front door creaked open. She quickly glanced around the room. It was his bedroom. The big king-sized bed took in most of the space, the faint smell of expensive cologne and cigars lingered in the air, the same as it had in the living room. The windows were big with a great view over London, but the they were no escape; way too high and there was nothing to climb on outside.

There was no way out.

Y/N huffed, turning toward the door. She pressed herself against the wall, barely breathing.

"Dimitri," a voice drawled, deep, and unmistakable. Sergei. Dimitri's older brother.

Y/N could hear the clinking of metal, the sound of someone stepping into the living room she'd been tied up in a minute ago. Dimitri was standing nervously by the big marble table, trying to look casual, but his body language was stiff with tension.

"Sergei," Dimitri greeted, his voice too high-pitched. "What's up?"

There was an amused chuckle from the doorway as Sergei saw the ropes laying on the floor, clearly used. He sniffed the air, his eyes narrowing, his nose twitching. "I smell perfume."

Y/N held her breath now, too scared of giving herself away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," his younger brother said, and Sergei wasn't convinced, but he didn't seem to want to press. Instead, he gave Dimitri a long, sidelong glance and a toothy grin. "You know, I just wanted to check on you on your birthday but you seem like you're having fun. Just make sure it's all consensual."

Dimitri's face went bright red, his eyes darting to the ropes on the floor and then back to Sergei. "It's not-" he started, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat. "I mean, it's not what you think."

Sergei's grin widened, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. He leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "No need to explain, little brother. You're a grown man now. Who you bring into your home is none of my business."

Dimitri shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. Y/N, still pressed against the wall in the bedroom, bit back a smirk. She could practically hear the nervous energy radiating off Dimitri, his attempt at nonchalance falling flat. If this was how he usually handled himself, she could see why he was desperate to impress someone or anyone to be honest.

Sergei sniffed the air again, his brow furrowing slightly. He glanced around the apartment one last time, his gaze lingering on the ropes for just a beat longer than comfortable. "Well, happy birthday, Dima. Enjoy your… evening."

With that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

The moment Sergei was gone, Dimitri let out a long, shaky breath, leaning heavily against the table. He stayed like that for a moment, his head bowed, before he finally pushed himself upright and made his way back to the bedroom.

Y/N, now sitting on the side of her opponents bed, raised an eyebrow as he opened the door, his face still flushed. "So," she said, her voice dripping with amusement, "happy birthday."

Dimitri groaned, running a hand down his face. "Don't."

"Oh, come on," she teased, crossing her arms. "That was adorable. 'Just make sure it's all consensual.' Your brother thinks you're tying up your dates for fun."

"I said don't," Dimitri snapped, though the crack in his voice and the flush in his cheeks betrayed any attempt at authority. He turned his back to her, pacing a few steps into the room like he didn't know what to do with himself.

He leaned heavily against the doorframe, his head bowed, the flush of embarrassment still painting his cheeks. The air between them was thick with tension, and Y/N could see the cracks in his composure. This was a man teetering on the edge, caught between his desperation to prove himself and the weight of his insecurities.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him carefully. "You're really desperate to make daddy proud, are you?" She teased.

The words hit like a whip. His head turned slightly, just enough for her to see the muscle in his jaw tighten. When he faced her fully, his expression was caught somewhere between fury and humiliation. "Shut up. You don't know anything about me."

"Did I strike a nerve?" she asked, feigning innocence. She didn't back down, even when he took a step closer, his eyes darkening. "I know more about you and your little family than you think."

For a moment, Dimitri said nothing, just stared at her with a mixture of frustration and something else. Something more vulnerable. He stepped back suddenly, scrubbing his hands over his face as if trying to compose himself. "I didn't ask for this," he muttered. "Any of it."

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. "Then why are you doing it?" she asked, softer now.

"Because I have to," Dimitri said quietly, as if the words cost him something. "You wouldn't understand."

Y/N let out a low laugh, shaking her head. "Try me."

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned sharply and left the room, leaving her alone. She considered making a break for it but dismissed the thought just as quickly. She heard Dimitri rummaging around in the other room, muttering under his breath. When he returned, he carried a glass of water and a small first-aid kit. He placed them both on the nightstand and glanced at her, still visibly conflicted.

"You hit your head. I don't need you bleeding all over my carpet," he said gesturing to the expensive looking white rug beneath his bed.

"Aw, you're so caring," she teased. "You're just full of surprises."

He rolled his eyes but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he opened the kit and pulled out some antiseptic. She couldn't help but notice how his fingers trembled, though whether it was from nerves or something else, she couldn't tell.

"Why didn't you give me up to Sergei?" she asked suddenly, watching his face closely.

He froze, his hand hovering over the cotton swab. "What?"

"You could've sold me out. Told him I was here to steal your precious knife. Hell, you could've made me out to be some assassin sent to take you out, and I bet he would've believed you. But you didn't." She leaned forward, her gaze narrowing. "Why?"

Dimitri avoided her eyes, his jaw tightening as he busied himself with the cotton swab. He dabbed at it with antiseptic, the sharp scent filling the air.

"I didn't do it for you," he muttered, finally meeting her gaze, though his expression was guarded. "If Sergei knew why you were here, it'd be more than just my problem. He'd take over, and then my father would find out. And I…" He hesitated, the words seeming to catch in his throat. "…I can't let that happen."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "So this is about you, then? Self-preservation?"

He flinched at her tone, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "You don't understand," he snapped, but there was no anger in his voice. Just frustration, layered over something deeper. "If my father finds out I let someone break in here, I'm done. This is my one chance to prove I'm not… worthless."

His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, Y/N saw past the posturing and panic to the insecurity he tried so hard to hide.

"Prove you're not worthless by what? Guarding a knife?" she asked, her tone softer now. "Seems like a pretty low bar."

Dimitri scoffed, shaking his head. "You wouldn't get it. My father doesn't care about anything but power, control, appearances. If I can't do this one thing right…" He trailed off, his hands gripping the first-aid kit as if it were the only thing grounding him.

Y/N watched him in silence, piecing together the picture of a man who was just as trapped as she was. Though by very different circumstances.

"Well," she said finally, her voice light but not unkind, "if it makes you feel any better, you did technically stop me." She smirked, gesturing to her still-sore head.

Dimitri's lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he quickly smothered it. "You don't know when to shut up, do you?" He had almost forgotten to patch up her wound. The blood was slowly drying up, as he slowly dabbed the cotton pad around her temple to clean it up. Y/N scrunched her face up in pain when he alcohol seeped into the small cut. She could've easily fought him now. But she didn't, and Dimitri asked himself why. For a moment, he focused on her wound, dabbing carefully despite the slight tremor in his hands. The silence between them felt heavy, filled with unspoken questions and tension neither of them seemed ready to address. He avoided her gaze, keeping his attention on the task as if it were the most important thing in the world.

She smirked, but there was something softer in her expression now. Something almost curious. She could feel his hands trembling, could see the way his eyes darted to her face when he thought she wasn't looking. He was scared. Of her, maybe, but also of whatever was going on in his own head.

Y/N took a deep breath, the words forming carefully in her mind. "Take me to him."

Dimitri froze, his expression a mix of shock and suspicion. "What?"

"You need proof, right?" she continued, keeping her tone even. "Proof that you can protect what's yours. That you're not just some screw-up who let a thief waltz in and take it. If you bring me to him – alive, empty-handed – you'll have a trophy. Evidence that you stopped me."

Dimitri stared at her, his brows furrowing as he processed her words. "Why would you do that?" he asked, his voice low and cautious. "Why would you help me?"

"I'm not helping you," she said quickly. "I'm helping myself. We make a deal."

"A deal?" He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"I need money," she said bluntly. "Since I'm not getting it for a failed mission, here's a pitch: you tell your father I broke in, but I didn't find anything because you stopped me before I could take the knife. You get your moment of spotlight and I walk away with cash. From you."

Dimitri's expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he stared at her like she'd just offered him a poisoned chalice. "You think my father's going to be proud of me me for letting a thief break into my apartment? For showing up with you instead of throwing you in some ditch?"

Y/N smirked, tilting her head. "He might. If you frame it right. I didn't let her break in; I stopped her. She didn't get the knife. I captured her, proved I'm not useless." Her voice dropped an octave, mimicking a deep, commanding tone. "You'd look like a hero, wouldn't you?"

Dimitri shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting at the hem of his sleeve. She could see the flicker of doubt, the hesitation, and maybe, just maybe, a hint of hope behind his eyes.

"I don't need your help to prove myself," he muttered, his voice lacking conviction.

Y/N leaned forward, her voice low and confident. "Oh, but you do. Because I know you, Dimitri. You're not like him. You don't have his power or Sergei's ruthlessness. But you have this-" she gestured toward herself, "and if you play it smart, you might finally get his attention."

His lips parted as if to argue, but no words came out. Instead, he looked away, jaw clenched, the internal battle playing out across his face.

"And what if he doesn't care?" Dimitri finally asked, his tone sharp but brittle. "What if he laughs in my face and says I'm still a screw-up? What happens then?"

Y/N shrugged, keeping her expression neutral. "That's not my problem. You get me the money we agree on, and I disappear. Whatever happens between you and Daddy Dearest after that? That's on you."

Dimitri narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms defensively. "How much?"

"Sixty thousand."

His eyes widened. "Sixty- are you insane?"

"Twice as much as I was offered," she said with a shrug, unfazed. "I figure someone like you can afford it. Or are you telling me the youngest Kravinoff is broke?"

His cheeks flushed a deep red, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked, tilting her head mockingly, her tone laced with amusement.

"I said fine!" he snapped, spinning to face her. His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly regained composure. "You'll get your money. Just- just don't screw this up."

Y/N smiled, satisfied. "Now we're talking."

Dimitri let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if the weight of their deal was already pressing down on him. He turned away, pacing the room as he muttered something under his breath.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "What's the plan? Are we just going to march into your father's estate like it's show-and-tell?"

Dimitri stopped pacing, his jaw tightening. "It's not that simple," he said sharply. "If I'm going to bring you to him, I need to make it look… convincing."

"Convincing, huh?" Y/N crossed her arms casually. "What's that supposed to mean? You're not planning on tying me up again, are you?"

His face flushed. "No," he snapped, too quickly. "I mean- I can't just walk in with you looking like this." He gestured vaguely at her, his frustration bubbling over. "You don't exactly scream 'dangerous thief.' You look-"

"Careful, Kravinoff," Y/N cut in, her tone sharp. "Finish that sentence, and I might reconsider our little deal."

"I won't take you to him," he started and Y/N almost interrupted him with protests but he continued before she could say anything. "I'll bring him here. He'll see you, tied up on that chair."

Y/N raised an eyebrow as he paced up an down in his bedroom, puzzling together a plan. "So I'll be tied up again? Great," she said, leaning back on her arms. She was starting to get tired and the bedding felt pretty comfortable under her hands.

"Yeah. You- You'll be unconscious! Or at least play unconscious.

Y/N blinked, barely suppressing a laugh. "Unconscious? That's your master plan?"

Dimitri stopped pacing to glare at her, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "Do you have a better idea?" he snapped. "Because if we don't make this convincing, my father will see through it in an instant. He'll know it's a setup, and trust me, neither of us walks away from that."

She tilted her head, studying him. The nervous energy radiating off him, the way he avoided her eyes when he mentioned Nikolai. It wasn't just fear of failure driving him. It was something deeper. Something personal. "Alright," she said after a moment, her tone softening. "Unconscious it is. But if you tie me up too tight this time, we're gonna have problems."

Dimitri let out a breath he didn't seem to realize he was holding, nodding sharply. "Fine. I'll make it believable without… overdoing it."

"Good boy," she said with a smirk, watching as his ears reddened. "Now, what's your big plan for when he actually gets here? You think Nikolai's just going to pat you on the back and call it a day?"

His jaw tightened, his eyes darting away from her. "I'll handle him," he said, though there was no confidence in his voice. "That's not your concern. You just play your part."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Bold of you to assume I'll just sit quietly and let you sell this performance without input."

"You'll have no choice," he shot back, his voice firmer this time. "If this goes wrong, you won't get your money. So do us both a favor and keep your theatrics to a minimum."

"Sure thing, partner," she drawled, leaning back on her elbows with an amused glint in her eye.

Dimitri glared at her, but she caught the flicker of amusement behind his eyes.

"Alright," he said after a long pause, his voice quieter now. "Let's get this over with."

Y/N grinned, flexing her wrists. "By all means, Kravinoff. Tie me up. Again."

-

The sharp click of approaching footsteps echoed through the apartment. Y/N, bound and pretending to be unconscious, kept her breathing slow and even, her head hanging low, hair in her face as if she'd passed out. Every muscle in her body was tense, ready to spring into action if needed.

The air shifted, colder somehow, as Nikolai Kravinoff stepped into the room. His presence was imposing, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the dimly lit apartment. Dimitri stood stiffly by the door, his shoulders square but his hands fidgeting at his sides. A nervous habit he couldn't quite suppress.

Nikolai's gaze swept across the room, landing immediately on Y/N. His sharp features twisted into something between approval and disdain. "So," he began, his voice low and gravelly, "this is the thief who dared to challenge our family?" He approached her, his boots barely making a sound against the carpeted floor. "She doesn't look like much."

Dimitri swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak. "She got in," he said, trying to keep his tone steady. "But she didn't get out. I stopped her before she could take the knife."

Nikolai turned his head slightly, giving his youngest son a scrutinizing look. "Did you, now?"

"Yes," Dimitri said quickly. "She was fast, but I was faster. I managed to subdue her before she could escape." He gestured to the knife, now prominently displayed on the table beside them. "The knife is still here, untouched."

Nikolai stepped closer to Y/N, his sharp eyes studying her as though she were an insect pinned under glass. He reached out, almost absently, and grasped her chin, tilting her face toward him. Y/N fought the urge to flinch, keeping her body limp and her breathing shallow.

"You tied her up and left her alive," Nikolai observed, his tone unreadable. "Interesting choice. Most would've ended the threat."

Dimitri's throat worked as he struggled to find an answer. "I thought you'd want to see her," he said finally. "To question her. She might have information about who sent her."

His father let the silence hang for a beat, then let out a quiet sigh. "You finally achieved something. I'll give you that." There was no pride in his voice, only the acknowledgment of the bare minimum. "But don't get comfortable. This doesn't change anything."

Dimitri didn't respond, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his composure under his father's sharp gaze.

"I don't care for information from a little girl." There was an almost unnoticeable pause before he added, "She's your responsibility. If she becomes a problem, it's your head. Do with her what you will, but if she proves to be more trouble than she's worth…"

He didn't finish the thought, but the implication was clear. He turned toward the door, his footsteps heavy and purposeful as he walked away. As the door clicked shut behind him, the room seemed to breathe again, though the atmosphere remained thick with unspoken words. Dimitri stood frozen for a moment, his eyes still on Y/N. He wasn't sure what to feel. His father's words echoed in his mind: You finally achieved something. But it didn't feel like a victory. It felt like he had done the bare minimum, like a child who had only met the lowest expectation.

Dimitri exhaled sharply, his breath shaky as he looked to Y/N. She was still tied to the chair, her eyey fixated on him as if she was trying to read him, but she didn't dare to say anything. The silence between them stretched long.

He should feel proud, right? But all he felt was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, the way he always did when his father's praise was nowhere to be found. No approval. No pride.

Finally, he took a hesitant step toward her, kneeling down in front of the chair. His hands trembled as he began untying the thick ropes. He could feel the tightness in his chest, the heat of unshed tears threatening to spill, and he hoped Y/N wouldn't notice. But of course, she did.

Once her hands were free, she reached up, her fingers gentle as she brushed away a blonde lock of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. Her touch was soft, almost soothing, and it made the weight of his emotions feel even more suffocating.

"You're not so tough, are you?" Y/N said quietly, her voice low but not unkind. "Not as much as you like to pretend."

Dimitri's gaze dropped, and he clenched his jaw. He didn't want to show it. He didn't want to give her any more reason to see him as weak. But the truth was, he'd been feeling that way for far longer than he wanted to admit.

His throat tightened as he finally looked back at her. "I didn't want this," he said, the words escaping before he could stop them. "But it's like… it's like I'm stuck, Y/N. I can't win, no matter what I do."

Y/N's fingers paused on his face, and she studied him for a long moment. The way he was kneeling in front of her, sad and vulnerable, did something to her. There was something in her eyes, something like understanding, but she didn't speak right away. Instead, she just let her hand linger there, her thumb brushing against his skin in a way that made him feel exposed.

"You're not stuck, Dimitri," she said softly. "You just haven't figured out how to break free yet."

He sniffed, wiping a small tear with the back of his hand without looking at her. Then, without another word, he stood up and left the room for a moment. When he returned, he was holding a stack of cash.

"Forty." he said, his voice almost sheepish. "This is all I've got lying around right now. You can come back for the rest later." He walked over to her, his eyes briefly flicking toward her before he handed her the money, his fingers brushing hers just slightly. She took it, her gaze flickering up to meet his.

She didn't say anything, just glanced at the cash in her hands. The silence lingered, but this time it felt different. Less tense, more contemplative.

Dimitri shifted uncomfortably, looking away. "Just get out, alright?"

Y/N smiled faintly but didn't argue. She could feel his tension, the quiet storm brewing beneath his guarded exterior. There was something else there, something more than just their deal. But she wasn't going to press him for answers Not yet

"Fine," she said simply, slipping the money into her pocket. "But I'll be back for the rest. Don't think you're getting off that easy."

Dimitri didn't reply, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something almost like relief, or maybe resignation. He nodded, his expression hardening once more as he turned away, but for the briefest moment, the distance between them felt just a little smaller.

[voxslays]

FAMILY REUNION

Featuring >>> Lucifer x Reader; In which, an attempt to kill baby Charlie goes south. Resulting in a soporific curse placed upon the reader, who struggles to deal with the aftermath of its affects.

Part Five Part Seven

A/N: Last depressing chapter for Luci I promise!!! Trust, also smallllllll timeskip lol.

Things couldn’t have been better for Lucifer Morningstar.

In the past six months, not only had he come out of hiding, rekindled his relationship with his daughter, and shown both heaven and hell why he was called the prince of darkness (and king of hell), he had truly almost forgotten about the sorrows he had faced in the last few years. He was finally free from the depressing slump he had suffered through—until Charlie had moved one of your family portraits to the lobby of the hotel.

Suddenly it all came rushing back to him. The stress, the depression, you—it was all too much at once. Yet, Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to ask Charlie to put the painting back in the darkness. For all the pain it brings, it also brought Luci peace. The sight of your gorgeous smile and pretty eyes—or your outfit and jewelry. It was like he was reliving that day.

In the painting, Charlie was only about three or four. Yet, Lucifer still remembers how she calmly sat still next to you and Lucifer the entire time, it was strange. Charlie was wearing a cute little red sundress, which matched Lucifer’s crimson suit and the burgundy ribbon on your sunhat. You were wearing Ruby red shoes which matched Charlie’s mini Mary-Jane’s. Charlie looked so happy, completely oblivious to all the pain…oh Charlie.

Lucifer knew he needed to come clean and tell her the truth…but it was hard. "How do I tell her?" Lucifer sorrowfully ponders aloud. “Tell who what?” Charlie popped out from behind her dad, scaring him shitless. Luci jumps slightly, his hand flying to his chest as he turns to see his now twenty-three year old daughter. A small smile grows on a his face as he tries to hide his startled expression. "Char-Char…ducky, can you sit down for a minute?" He says, his tone soft but serious. “Sure dad.”

Lucifer motions for her to take a seat on the couch in the parlor before goofily sitting next to her, crossing his arms over his chest. He takes a deep breath before beginning. "I need to talk to you about something important.” Lucifer sighs, “Something I should have told you a long time ago." His expression turns serious, his brow furrowing slightly as he tries to find the right words to say. "Charlie, there's something I've been keeping from you…a truth that you deserve to know.” He pauses.

“It's about your mother."

“What about mom?” Charlie’s expression turns serious. He sighs heavily, running a hand through his golden-blonde hair before continuing. "Charlie, your mother…she didn’t randomly disappear one day…” Charlie sits there silent, a confused and dejected expression on her face. “What?” Luce hesitates for a moment, his heart aching at the thought of hurting his daughter. But he knows it's time for her to know the truth. "She didn't leave us, Charlie. She was cursed."

“Cursed? What do you mean dad?” Charlie’s golden eyes shine with unshed tears. Lucifer’s heart breaks (even more) at the sight of his daughter's tears, but he presses on, needing to get the whole truth out. "A sleeping curse. I tried everything to break it, to save her, but…"

“Where is she now? Is she still asleep-“ Charlie keeps asking question after question, trying to understand the very confusing situation her father hid from her. "She's…at the palace. In her private quarters.” Lucifer wipes his tears. “I couldn't bear to separate from her completely, but also…I was afraid to tell you." His voice cracks with emotion. Charlie pulls him into a tight hug. “It’s okay dad.”

Luci hugs his daughter back tightly, sobbing into her shoulder. "Charlie, you can see her but…she's not awake." He pulls back to look at his daughter's face. “I can?” He nods, wiping away his tears. "Yes. Yes, you can." Lucifer stands up, holding out his hand to his daughter as he creates one of his signature golden portals, and the two of them step into the atrium together.

The familiar scent of apples, flowers—and most importantly, roses—fills the air. There are petite golden butterflies fluttering from place to place, breathing life into the peristyle-like room. In the center, a golden fountain, surrounded by apple trees that grew golden apples reminiscent of the ones that grew in Eden. And all around are rose bushes. Red, pink, white, gold. The colors blend together as they surround the room.

Lucifer slowly walks to the glass casket in the center of the bright atrium, followed by Charlie. The casket is made of beautiful, clear glass, with rose vines wrapped around it. Inside, lies a beautiful figure with h/c hair, sleeping peacefully. Their features are soft, and it looks almost like they’re just napping. Lucifer turns to Charlie. "This is your mother…" You look almost exactly like Charlie remembers you. It’s almost as if within the seven years since your disappearance, no time had passed at all.

Charlie stares at your semi-lifeless body. She memorized your features, how your hair lays, the rosiness of your cheeks, how your chest rises and falls gently with each breath, but your eyes remain closed. “Oh mom…” Charlie gently mutters. Your hand gently rests on top of your stomach, your ring finger still adorned with the golden wedding ring Lucifer gave you all those years ago. She reaches out to touch the glass, her reflection showing in it.

Charlie takes one last look at you before turning back to her father, tears in her golden eyes, her red pupils looking straight into his heart and soul. “We have to find a way to wake her up.” Charlie says, gently wiping away her tears as she looks down at Lucifer. Sighing deeply, Luci runs a hand through his hair sadly, unshed tears glimmering in his aureate eyes. "I've tried everything, Charlie. Every spell, every potion, every deal…nothing worked.” Lucifer takes a deep breath before continuing. “The curse is too powerful.”

“There has to be something.” Lucifer looks at her, sadness clouding his golden eyes. Afterall, he does see you in her. Not by appearance—Charlie takes after him in that department—but by disposition. "Maybe…” Lucifer pauses, taking a shaky breath. “Maybe you'll find something I missed." He places a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Maybe I will.”

[embrose]

Via's words hurt, because she kinda has a point?

Like, she thought that Stolas saw her as an obligation. And although he doesn't feel that way it doesn't change the fact that Via does feel that way.

I know Stolas tried to do what he thought was best for Via. But we've seen time and time again, irl and in media, that "staying together for the kids" isn't a good idea. Because yes, Stolas DID force himself to be miserable for Via. He didn't need his meds because of her, but the situation certainly didn't make his mental illness better. Kids can tell when their parents don't love each other, or don't like each other. Stolas and Stella certainly didn't try to hide their distaste for each other. So, it would've been better imo if Stolas divorced Stella when Via was small and he got custody (which at this point is kinda a "no duh"). I'm sure at the time he didn't feel like he could do that, that's why it was so significant that Blitz gave him the courage to do that, but it doesn't change the fact that Via had time to grow up and start to feel like her dad would rather be anywhere but in this family with her.

Stolas isn't used to dealing with the consequences of his actions, his choices, because he didn't have a choice before. About almost anything in his life. He chose to be a good, loving father, but he also chose to stay with Stella, and to get involved with Blitz. And he didn't realize the emotional consequences both staying with and leaving Stella would have on Via. Now he reaps what he sows, but I agree with Blitz. He just needs to keep trying. Because he loves Via, and Via loves him, and I hope they'll be able to reconcile before his 100 years are up.

Oh, and I hope Stella and Andrealphus die slow, painful deaths.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Fourteen

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Swearing

Chapter Words: 1,364

Sorry for the long wait! I had a dental procedure, so I haven't felt like being on my pc. Enjoy! <3

It was the day before Jamie's first birthday and I was in the Avengers common room decorating. Bucky watched me, leaning against the wall, his eyes watching my every move. He tried to help, but I told him off for doing it wrong too many times. I hung streamers and balloons everywhere, the room was full of colour. His arms were crossed and a look of amusement was over his face as he watched me. 

"Can't believe our girl is gonna be one" I mutter, knowing he could hear me still. Bucky lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Me neither, it feels like you were only just pregnant and now we have a one year old" He adds. 

"I know, it feels so sad, but so happy at the same" I say finishing up the last of the decorations. Bucky walks over to me, standing behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist, holding me close to him. He rests his chin on my shoulder. I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a second, feeling him, allowing myself a moment to breath and feel content for a moment in his arms. 

"Yeah, it's bittersweet, happy to see how much she's grown, sad that she's growing up fast" He mumbles, his words soft as he speaks. 

"I know, I love our girl" I add. I feel him hug me a little tighter, his chest pressed against my back, his body wrapping around mine protectively. 

"Our little girl, our Jamie" Bucky whispers. 

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

And then, it was the next day, the Avengers were in the common room with us, minus a few whom were on missions. And Jamie, was sat on the floor surrounded by way too many toys. She giggled happily playing with her new things. I bit my lip smiling widely. Bucky sat on the floor by Jamie, helping her play. I watched him fondly, his eyes shone with pride and fatherly love as he watched her. He glances my way, smiling widely at me. 

"Happy birthday sweet girl" I whisper to her as I stroke her hair softly. I watched as she grabbed another toy and turn to wave it in my face, excitement over her face. 

"Wow baby, that's so cool" I smiled to her. Jamie continued to grab toys and show me, a little giggle would leave her lips when I told her they were cool. 

"What one is your favourite?" I asked her, Jamie looked from me to her toys, she grabbed the little fuzzy bear plush she was gifted and held it close to her chest, cuddling it. 

"And who got you that baby?" I asked. Bucky smirked and reached to Jamie pulling her close to his chest "Dada got you that sweet girl" He grinned. 

"Yeah he did" I smirked, watching Bucky cuddle her close to him. 

"So when's the next baby due?" Sam asked, I looked over to him glaring slightly. Bucky choked on his breath slightly, his eyes widening in surprised, he looked over to me. 

"There isn't one, thank you very much" Bucky says. 

"And there won't be one" I add. Bucky looks grateful at my words, which made me feel better, we hadn't spoken about it, but I didn't want anymore. 

"Yeah, no plans for any more kids, Jamie's enough for us" Bucky says, smiling down at her. 

"And birth was traumatising, I never want to go through that again" I add, cringing at the memory. Bucky nods in agreement, the same cringing look over his face. He reaches to me, resting his hand on my leg, calming me down, I shake the memory from my head and smile down at him and Jamie. Sam luckily didn't answer us after that, he looked like a kid that had just been told off. 

Finally we sang to Jamie and had her birthday cake, Bucky and I helped her blow the candles out, since she had no clue what to do. We gave her a piece of the cake, it was the first time she had sugar so I was a little nervous, but she devoured it, making a huge mess of herself in the process. She had icing all over her face, her hands were sticky and there were cake crumbs everywhere. Bucky looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. 

"Seems like our girl likes cake" He chuckles. 

"She's so goofy" I giggle, taking a picture of her. Bucky grins, enjoying the sight of her covered in cake just as much as I was enjoying it. 

"She sure is....And messy, but it's her birthday, so it's allowed!" Bucky smiles fondly at Jamie. 

"Dibs not bathing her!" I call out, smiling widely at Bucky. He looks at me with a fake grumpy face. 

"Oh no doll, no way! You've got this one, I'll take diaper duty any day over bathing sticky sugar off her!" 

"I'll take that!" I grin, fisting the air, Bucky grins back his eyes full of amusement. 

"You sure about that? You know she's gonna splash, get water and bubbles everywhere?" He asks. 

"Yeah, but she's gotta poop that cake out, and now that's a you problem" I say smirking. Bucky groans, his expressing turning comically pained at the thought. 

"Oh god... I take it back! I'd rather deal with the war of bubbles than poopy diapers" He groans. 

"Too late!" I smile poking my tongue out. Bucky laughs and shakes his head in defeat. My eyes went back to Jamie, who was licking the icing off her arm. Everyone laughed, happy to see Jamie so happy and enjoying her birthday. Once the birthday excitement was over, I was in the bathroom with Jamie, she laid in her tiny bath inside the bath as I washed the cake from her brown hair. 

"So messy" I mutter, she giggles and squirms in the bath, splashing the water everywhere, she reached for one of her bath toys and splashed it against the water causing it to land on me. 

"Silly girl, I guess dada was right, wasn't he?" I said fondly to her. She splashes me again, Bucky then appears in the doorway, leaning against the doorway, watching the two of us with a smile. 

"I told you, messiest baby ever" He grins. 

"Don't listen to dada" I say to Jamie as I pour more water over her hair. Bucky feigns hurt, his hand pressing against his chest as he pretends to be wounded. I giggled softly looking at him, our eyes meeting, playfulness in both sets. 

"Dada" A little voice just spoke, I looked to Jamie, my eyes wide. Bucky moved from the door to crouch next to me, we both looked at Jamie, shock in our eyes, smiles on our lips. 

"Did she just... Doll, did she just say dada?" Bucky asks, his voice higher than usual.

"She did...Jamie, say it again" I said, stroking the baby's cheek softly. "Say dada"

"Dada!" She giggled saying it again, obviously enjoying the attention she was getting from both me and Bucky. Bucky held his hand to his chest, his mouth open in shock. He looked like he might cry. 

"Oh Bucks, her first word" I say, tears burning my eyes. Bucky's eyes grew misty, his voice a little choked with emotion.

"Yeah doll, her first word...and it's dada!" He grins proudly. 

"Yeah baby...dada...now say mama" I giggle to Jamie, she looks from Bucky to me, her little face scrunching, she babbles for a moment. 

"Dada" She giggles. Bucky lets out a shaky laugh. 

"No baby, mama" I giggle, Bucky joined in saying mama to her. Finally after a little bit of trying, Jamie said mama. She said it with such excitement in her voice, enjoying me and Bucky giggling with her. Bucky and I cheered her when she said it, she was snuggly in her bathrobe when she finally said it, clinging to both me and Bucky whilst we sat on the couch. We spend the evening giggling as she called mama and dada. 

"We've got a talkie girlie now love" Bucky grins. 

"Yeah we do Bucks" I say smiling as I cuddled Jamie close to me. 

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer @a-small-blue-nebula @buckitostan @knyaotjjkbiatch

[nightplvmes]

*.⊹˚ XAVIER | lights (christmas special)

── ◜xavier x fem!reader — mini one shot 1k words ◜Xavier prepares a Christmas surprise for her with the help of his evol. — author's note | christmas specials from the rest of the LI on my profile

She sighed, looking at her empty plate of food. She looked back out the window of her apartment, noticing that the weather hadn't improved. She didn't have many plans for Christmas but she was definitely hoping to do something other than stay locked up at home… that is until a snowstorm came.

She knew the weather wouldn't be the best but she certainly didn't expect to be completely locked in. Her plans with her friends had been ruined and she felt guilty for not stopping by to see her mom.

She looked back at the TV, there was a boring Christmas movie on that was better than nothing… Until her surroundings grew dark. The power had gone out. The damn power had gone out on Christmas Eve. It was the last thing it was missing from her horrible night.

She hadn't been able to leave the house because of the storm. She hadn't been able to go see her mother and she had not been able to attend the small meeting that her friends had organized either.

It took her a couple of minutes to get out of her trance, it felt like a really bad night and there was nothing that could cheer her up anymore. She decided that the best thing to do was to spend some time on the balcony, maybe the fresh air would help her clear her head. That was when she realized that not all of the city had ended up in darkness, there were some places and buildings that still seemed to have power and a few others that didn't… unfortunately for her, her building had been one of the ones affected.

The sound of the door had taken her out of her bubble and she rubbed her eyes before getting up from the ground and walking to the front door. She thought maybe it was the building manager talking about the problem but it was the opposite…

Xavier let out a yawn and rubbed one of his eyes before looking at her with one of those small smiles he sometimes had on his face. She had learned to read his micro expressions, she felt like no one knew him like she did and it was probably true.

"Hey… what are you doing here?" She asked confused, she wasn't trying to kick him out of her house or anything but it was Christmas Eve, she thought maybe he was with… someone.

"The power went out."

She had to press her lips together to keep from laughing, of course she had noticed that and she knew Xavier wasn't trying to be sarcastic but there was so much seriousness on his face that she couldn't help but want to laugh.

"I know… Do you want to come in?" She stepped aside to let Xavier into her apartment.

He nodded and walked inside, noticing that the only light came from the open balcony doors.

She decided not to ask. Maybe Xavier had simply decided to spend Christmas at home. It didn't surprise her after he thought they were just going to get together to read on his birthday. His birthday was important, right?

"Come… the view is pretty from here." She took his hand and practically dragged him to the balcony.

When she sat back down on the floor, he didn't hesitate to imitate her, taking a seat next to her. Her eyes were fixed on the city, waiting for the power to magically come back at any moment. Meanwhile, Xavier's eyes were completely on her, as if the pretty view she was talking about was about her.

She sighed, feeling somewhat sad. She certainly didn't expect to spend Christmas like that. Although it made her feel a little more comforted to have Xavier there.

"Why are you home tonight?" She looked at him when she heard Xavier's question. She had told him two days ago that she had a meeting with her friends because she had tried to convince him to go with her.

"Didn't you see the news?" Xavier shook his head. "The storm closed the streets. I tried to leave but a policeman stopped me and forced me to go back the way I went." She sighed again remembering the disappointment she had felt when she had been told those words.

Xavier looked away. He felt sad to see her so sad, maybe his presence wasn't that much but he wanted to do something to cheer her up. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands, still feeling down. She played with her fingers and the small threads that came out of the edge of her pajamas. Until something caught her attention.

An orb of light was near her cheek. She raised her face to find the small orb floating near her face. With her brow furrowed she looked at Xavier without understanding, more small orbs came out of his hand and floated around her, a small smile formed on her face.

"What are you doing?" She smiled excitedly when the orbs around her began to move around her, until they gathered in front of her.

"We need light," he lied. He actually wanted to put a smile on her face and it had clearly worked. There was now a huge smile on her face as she tried to touch the small orbs of light but they just moved away from her touch.

The small orbs gathered in front of her again, forming the silhouette of a Christmas tree and then they dispersed again. The small orbs scattered in front of her again, forming small spheres this time. It was like her own little personal light show.

"Open your hands." She complied and spread her hands in front of her chest.

The orbs of light this time gathered over her hands without touching her completely. Forming small stars, it was like holding the stars in her hands in a perhaps too literal way.

The orbs scattered until they became small particles that disappeared from her sight, leaving her almost in complete darkness again. She now had a huge smile on her face and it had definitely been the highlight of her night.

"Thank you." She smiled, shifting her gaze back into her apartment. Her eyes searched for one of the clocks in her house to confirm what she had in mind: it was already past midnight. "Merry Christmas, Xavier."

"Merry Christmas," he murmured. He slid his hand out to take hers.

[polutrope]

End of Year Recs

Inspired by @sallysavestheday's 8+8+8+8 Fic Recs, but with my own twist.

Below the cut, you will find 8 Fics by My Mainstays, 8 Fics by Authors New to Me, and 8 Works of Art.

As with any rec list, it's always hard to narrow it down -- but I also think rec lists are an important part of the fandom ecosystem and I've found many great fics I never would have clicked through them. Please look at my Bookmarks for more fics I loved, and please know you're all amazing for creating and sharing in this incredibly talented fandom 😚.

Many M- and E-rated fanworks below the cut because lbr, that's my jam.

8 Fics by My Mainstays

Some of my favourites by authors who have been consistently putting out writing I love well past the last year, many of whom I am fortunate to call friends.

Sing Thy Memories, Take My Hand by @melestasflight (E, 5.8k). Fingon/Maglor.

‘You have returned to Middle-earth for Maglor Fëanorion, you said?’ Elrond asks. ‘Yes, I am to beckon him come back to Valinor at last,’ Fingon answers hopefully. Few others had been willing to return to Middle-earth, and Fingon had already saved a Fëanorian cousin before. That made him more qualified for this task than most.

Melesta my dear, you put out some truly exceptional writing this year but holy damn did this blow me out of the water. You brought all of your powers to bear on this fic and it shows. Beautiful landscapes, complicated emotions, and sensuous smut.

i've been so worried (you've been so still) by @welcomingdisaster (E, 9.5k). Maglor/OFC.

A maiden of Estë does not explain. A maiden of Estë does not hold anger. A maiden of Estë does not tell what she has seen. A maiden of Estë does not follow kinslayers across the sea, nor does she sleep with the high regent of the Noldor.

Lena, you reached into my brain and pulled out the perfect fic for me. Ellind is a compelling OC, the Feanorian dynamics are so crunchy, the worldbuilding is fascinating and -- crucially -- Maglor is so sexy.

Filature by @sallysavestheday (G, 0.8k). Fingon.

After Thangorodrim, Fingon tries to come to terms with the urgency of Beleriand.

I am just screaming about the way sally uses her powers of economically florid (yes, it's a thing) language to delve into themes that are so core to Tolkien's writings through this character study of Fingon.

Strange Currencies by @jouissants (E, 67.2k, WiP). Maedhros/Maglor.

When Maedhros and Maglor fall together, they don't expect it to matter. Ages later, Maedhros is reembodied in Valinor to find himself married to a ghost. He and Maglor must face the repercussions of their history in Beleriand to move forward together, whether they want to or not.

How could I pick just one! I love everything you write, you know this. But it had to be this one. This fic just radiates love -- between the characters, and by the author for the characters. It's richly emotional, atmospheric, sometimes funny, and deeply engaged with canon in unexpected ways. Even if you don't care for the pairing or the tropes, please read it for the flashbacks. And don't say I didn't warn you if you're drawn in for the rest.

join my barren soil by @meadowlarkx (E, 11.1k). Maedhros/Maglor.

A familiar sound: the door Maglor had hung, parting in a rustle of leaves and cloth. Maedhros closed his eyes. “He wasn’t alone,” someone called out with grim satisfaction. “Brought a bedwarmer for the road.”

This gripped my heart with pain and then released it tenderly. Such an intricate and thoughtful fic. If the warnings make you wary but you're up to giving it a try, DO IT. Lark will never let you down with the tough themes.

An Incarnation by @i-am-a-lonely-visitor (M, 63.1k). Elrond & Family.

Haunted by a lifetime of grief even in the bliss of Aman, Elrond finds himself in a strange predicament — as the rest of his family learns how to survive the Fourth Age on two sides of the Sea.

Again, how do I pick but one fic by visitor? Of course, in the end, it had to be this final installment of his sprawling Elrondverse that I have been consuming like a fine dark chocolate these past few years. Another fic that just radiates affection for the characters and their world. Come for the delectable prose, spicy smut, and juicy conflict; stay for the eldritch identity fuckery and eggpreg.

To Evil End by @zealouswerewolfcollector (E, 2.9k). Fingon/Maedhros.

Decades after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Fingon comes back to Maedhros.

Every time this author posts something with a complicated premise (which is almost always), I'm like /grabby hands/ gimme gimme gimme. This story gave me many chills. Hewer is a master of succinct and punchy dialogue. I can't believe it's less than 3k, for the impact it's had on my imagination.

it does not disturb your flesh by @crownlessliestheking (E, 50.7k). Celebrimbor/Earendil/Elwing.

There is a Fëanorian in the Havens of Sirion, and Elwing Dior’s daughter is allowing it.

I had no idea what to expect with this throuple and I was blown away by the characterisations, conflicts, and fascinating worldbuilding.

8 Fics by Authors New To Me

Some of my favourite fics by authors I read for the first time this year, and who made my fandom experience richer.

Succour by @misst1ff (E, 3.5k). Hunleth/Mablung.

Hunleth of the Haladin copes with loss and injury after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and finds healing with Mablung of Doriath.

mouse's writing is crisp, clever, and funny and I'm so glad they're putting those powers to use on some less-explored characters. This fic is proof that straightforward PIV smut can be hot as hell. I love the use of cultural difference. Don't miss the follow-up threesome, either.

the darkness got a hold on me by @luthnethril (E, 7.3k). Daeron/Maglor, Maedhros/Maglor.

Daeron wants to throttle him. He wants to grab him by the collar of his lace robes and slam him against the wall—he wants to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face. "You can have a taste," Maedhros tells him, pushing him slightly forward towards Maglor's open legs. "Given that we are all here to promote relations with our respective peoples, I have decided to be generous."

I went into this skeptical of this triangulation but the author totally convinced me. I also really liked this Daeron and the way they did a Daeron-son-of-Elu that fit into Silm canon, for me.

make me come alive by @queerofthedagger (E, 6k) Maedhros/Maglor.

Maglor struggles to give up control. Maedhros makes sure that he learns.

I love this darker take on the uses of osanwe and on Maemag. It's also incredibly hot. I hope qotd sticks around the fandom for a bit, I'm loving the characterisations and voices they are bringing to some of my faves.

Threnody for the Dispossessed by kenaz. (T, 11.3k). Daeron/Maglor.

When the Valar recall Maglor to Valinor to plead for clemency, it falls to a reluctant rival to find him.

I couldn't believe I'd never read this Daemags before. It was so richly described and I love the characterisations of both, but especially Daeron's first-person POV.

spinning circles in your warm blood by @aredhels (M, 0.6k). Daeron/Luthien.

”Oh, brother,” she sighs as she kisses Daeron’s jaw, ”no one knows me like thee.”

It's the incestuous twist on "Daeron is Luthien's brother" that you never knew you needed. The codependence is so good, the prose beautiful.

rules of betrayal by @tobermoriansass (E, 42.5k). Curufin/Curufin's Wife ... and whole bunch of others.

Finrod attempts an experiment in the name of scientific, Noldorin curiosity about sex, the elf and spiritual enlightenment. It does not go as planned.

I can't belieeeeve clovis is a new author to me this year because they've been such a core part of my 2024 fic reading experience. I have never turned around and re-read a fic as quickly as I did rules of betrayal. A true testament to the way sex-in-art can open up avenues of character and psychology that nothing else can.

Spear-fishing for Ghosts by birrdieEdwards (T, 3.4k). Indis.

Then, her hide jerkin had been proof against tooth and claw and her stone spearpoint had been dipped in the blood of dark hunters and fell beasts. Now, her steel armament was shining and new and had never seen battle.

An entirely unexpected fill for a 2-year-old silmkinkmeme prompt of mine asking for Vanya POV on the War of Wrath. Everything about this fic is unique and I am in awe of this complex, intricate Indis characterisation. The rest of the fics in the series are just as good.

The Thorn is Exceedingly Sharp by @littlewhitemouseagain (E, 16.2k). Curufin/Eol.

After bellowing with laughter at the thought of such a contest, Telchar gathered the two elves up and proposed it to them at once: “A challenge of weapon-craft; the better-made weapon wins. Easy as that.” “What weapon?” asked Eol. “Swords?” asked Curufin, one ring-bedecked hand curled under his chin. Eol glanced at him, but Curufin kept his gaze on Telchar. “I can make no lesser of a blade than you.” “Ah,” Curufin mock-realized, rolling his eyes up at the cavern ceiling (an elven habit, as they often appealed to stars in their rhetoric), “I was being rude in suggesting a contest that would favor my skills. Perhaps, instead—” “And how does it favor you?” asked Eol, cold and biting.

I can't believe I've only been reading Littlewhitemouse for less than a year, either. Everything of theirs is so unique, so clever, so profound yet irreverent at once. I had trouble choosing just one of their fics, but ended up on this most recent Silmfic because it's a testament to how they manage to make a story about awful people so good and so compelling. And the sexual tension is hot as hell.

8 Works of Art

Some of the fanart that left an impression on me this year.

Maglor by @myceliumelium. I just love my guy looking wretched and beautiful with a spattering of blood.

Dior and Celegorm by @aamuusva. Dior the Fair, INDEED. I love his beauty and fierceness, I love Celegorm's unrepentant look.

Maglor by @exercise-of-trust. I don't know how to say it but he's just the ideal Maglor to me. And I love this artist's style.

Fingolfin by @ylieke. The DEFIANCE and GRIEF in this elf's eyes just pierces me right in the heart.

Amrod threatens Elrond and Elros by @runawaymun. An illustration for my fic! The artist went all-in on the horror of this moment and it's breathtaking.

Maedhros/Maglor by @tari-cua. I love everything tari-cua creates. The art is so lush and sensuous and their Maedhros and Maglor are so distinctly characterised. The fic @danmeiljie wrote inspired by this is a perfect accompaniment.

Reunion on the Beach by @arlenianchronicles. The beautiful, emotional art of Maglor and Elrond that I spent all summer staring at for TRSB.

Maglor's penance by @magicinavalon. Last but certainly not least, the strong, naked, tied-up Maglor we all deserve. Please also read the fic it illustrates by @queerofthedagger, you will NOT be disappointed.

[stylesonfilms]

ink & innocence - 12

word count: 3.6k

just a little something just cause lol! please please send me more plot ideas + ways to carry on the story from here. i was also thinking of drafting up 3-4 chaptes at a time to post back to back, meaning i would wait until i had 3/4 chapters, post those, and i wouldn't post another part until i had another group to post! just want to test the waters with algorithm! thank u and enjoy! Kirsten's eyes scanned the coffee shop, spotting the familiar blonde locks that belonged to Isobel seated near the back corner by the window. With an excited grin, she hurried across the room, her boots clicking against the tiled floor. "Hey, girl!" she exclaimed, leaning over to hug Isobel from behind, one arm wrapping snugly around her shoulder. The embrace was quick but warm before Kirsten slid into the seat across from her friend.

"I say we get a cup of coffee before my head actually falls off," Kirsten added with a light laugh, slinging her purse over the back of her chair. Isobel smiled in return, her sunny demeanor always so easygoing.

"We should! Aspen said she'd swing by before her shift. She hasn't seen you in a while," Isobel mentioned, already pulling out her phone to text Aspen and let her know they were waiting.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Meanwhile, Aspen walked along the bustling sidewalk with her fingers loosely intertwined with Harry's. The rhythmic clatter of their footsteps on the pavement was offset by the warmth of his hand in hers. His car was parked just down the block, but Aspen had wanted to take her time, enjoying the crisp air and the gentle press of his thumb tracing idle circles on the back of her hand.

They'd stolen a few moments together before leaving her apartment—a series of kisses that made Aspen giggle against his lips as she tried to protest. "I have to work," she had murmured, though her laughter made it clear she wasn't exactly resisting.

"You've got time," Harry had teased back, his hands firm on her waist, holding her close.

"Not if I stop to see Kirsten first," she managed, her voice soft as her fingers slid into the curls at the nape of his neck.

Now, as they approached the coffee shop, Aspen felt a small knot of nerves bubbling up. She hadn't spent much time with Kirsten since things with Harry had... shifted, and though she trusted him, the lingering thought of Kirsten's connection to him still sat quietly in the back of her mind. She pushed it away with the memory of his lips on hers and the way his hands always sought to ground her, as though she was the only thing that mattered in his orbit.

They reached the coffee shop, and Harry reached out to tug the wooden door open for her, his broad shoulders dipping as he gave her a small grin. "M'lady," he teased with a mock bow.

Aspen laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she stepped inside. The smell of roasted beans and cinnamon hit her immediately, along with the buzz of conversation and the occasional clatter of mugs. Her brown eyes swept across the room until they landed on the back of Kirsten's head and Isobel's unmistakable smile.

She swore her steps quickened on their own, an excited energy bubbling up as she weaved her way through the crowd. "Kirsten! Isobel!" Aspen chirped, practically bouncing as she reached their table.

"Hey!" Kirsten's voice was bright, though her eyes briefly flicked past Aspen to Harry, who stood a few steps behind her, his hands casually tucked into his jean pockets. Aspen leaned down to give both girls quick hugs, her natural warmth on full display.

Harry lingered just behind her chair, a quiet but steady presence as Aspen took her seat. Kirsten's sharp eyes darted between the two of them, her brows quirking slightly. "Didn't realize you two were suddenly... friends," she said, the hint of snark in her tone not lost on Harry.

Aspen, however, missed it completely, her focus already on explaining. "Oh! We just... got over our differences. He's actually taking me to work, so we can't stay too long," she said with a shy smile, her fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of her sleeve.

Kirsten's gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, her lips pressing into a thin line before she glanced at Isobel, who seemed entirely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. Internally, Kirsten felt the pang of jealousy coil tightly in her chest, sharp and biting. She hated it—the way the green tendrils of envy wrapped around her thoughts, squeezing and twisting. Aspen was her friend, after all, and she didn't want to begrudge her anything. But no matter how much she tried to shove the feeling down, it was relentless.

The truth was, Kirsten couldn't shake the belief that she could give Harry something Aspen couldn't. She'd known him longer, shared laughter over inside jokes Aspen wasn't a part of, and seen the confident, teasing side of him before Aspen had likely even noticed he existed. There had been fleeting moments between her and Harry—ones she had replayed in her head more times than she'd admit. The way his scent would linger just a beat too long, the spark in his eye when he playfully teased her, and the times his hand had brushed hers in a way that made her wonder if it meant something more.

What did Aspen have that she didn't? Sweetness? Shyness? Kirsten wanted to scoff. That wasn't enough to hold Harry's attention, was it? Not someone like him. Aspen was soft, quiet, unsure of herself. Kirsten, on the other hand, was bold and confident. She knew how to handle someone like Harry, knew what he needed. She could give him everything Aspen wouldn't even think to offer.

But as Kirsten's eyes flicked back to Harry, watching the way his gaze stayed unwaveringly fixed on Aspen, it felt like a slap. His expression wasn't just attentive—it was adoring. There was a softness in his eyes that made Kirsten's stomach churn with something unpleasant and bitter. He looked at Aspen like she was something precious, something fragile and irreplaceable. Like he'd move mountains for her without a second thought.

And that's what made it worse. Kirsten had never seen that look in his eyes for anyone else—not even for her, despite all the moments she'd convinced herself had meant more. It made her wonder if she'd ever really stood a chance at all.

As the thought settled heavily in her mind, her nails lightly tapped against the edge of the table, frustration bubbling under the surface. She hated herself for it—for the jealous, mean-spirited voice in her head that whispered Aspen didn't deserve him. That Aspen would never be able to keep someone like Harry interested, not in the long run. And yet, that voice only grew louder when she glanced at her friend's shy, happy smile, completely oblivious to the storm brewing just inches away.

Kirsten turned her attention back to Harry, her lips curling into a polite smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. There was still a chance, wasn't there?

But the way he stood there, his eyes soft and unwavering as they stayed trained on Aspen, made Kirsten's stomach churn. He looked at her like she was something precious, something fragile and irreplaceable.

Kirsten finally broke the silence. "Harry, can I talk to you for a second? Before you go?" Her voice was casual, but there was a flicker of something in her tone—something unreadable.

Harry hesitated, his eyes flicking to Aspen. She gave him a small, trusting smile and nodded, silently urging him. "Go ahead," she said softly.

Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the irritation creeping into his frame, before giving Aspen's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. She barely looked up, caught in the whirlwind of conversation with Isobel, and he used her distraction as an excuse to leave. His boots clicked against the floor as he followed Kirsten toward the door, the tension rolling off him in waves.

The moment they were out of earshot, Harry's body language shifted. He leaned casually against the pillar, his arms folding loosely across his chest, but there was nothing relaxed about him. His green eyes were sharp, a silent warning gleaming beneath his furrowed brows.

"Is there something I can help you with?" His tone carried a measured bite, enough to get his point across without fully snapping.

"Woah, easy there, tiger." Kirsten's lips curled into a smirk, but her playful tone only seemed to stoke the fire. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tilted her head at him. "No need to be hostile."

Harry's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. He didn't bother hiding it, and his brow arched, urging her to get on with it. He had no patience for games, not when Kirsten had already been making her judgment so clear with every stolen glance and barbed comment.

Kirsten sighed, crossing her arms as her eyes darted back toward Aspen and Isobel. They were lost in conversation, Aspen's soft laughter breaking the ambient hum of the coffee shop. The sight made her stomach twist—not with happiness, but with something dark and uneasy. She turned back to Harry, her confidence slipping momentarily before she straightened her shoulders.

"Look, H," she began, her voice low. Harry's expression hardened at the nickname, a flicker of disapproval crossing his features. "I don't know what's going on between you and Aspen, but..."

"But?" Harry's voice had an edge, sharp and unyielding. His eyes narrowed, daring her to continue. He could see where this was headed—he'd seen it all before, felt the same gnawing jealousy she was trying to mask. He recognized the way her gaze lingered too long, the calculating pauses in her words. It mirrored his own restless thoughts when Aspen had mentioned Shawn.

"But," she pressed on, her voice quieter now, as if she were reluctant to say the words. "I just don't know if it's... right. For someone like you."

The words hit him like a challenge, and Harry's lips curled into a humorless smile. He let out a sharp, unamused laugh, shaking his head. "What's that supposed to mean?" His voice was calm, but his eyes burned with restrained anger.

Kirsten faltered for a moment, her confidence cracking under the weight of his glare. "I just mean... you don't need gentle, or kind, or sweet," she said, the words spilling out in a rush. "That's not who you are, Harry, and it's not what you're used to."

His laugh this time was louder, colder, and Kirsten flinched at the sound. Embarrassment prickled at her skin, but she lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his gaze. If he was going to mock her, she wasn't going to shrink under it.

"I know what you like," she continued, her voice regaining some of its earlier bravado. "I can handle you. I can take what you give, however rough it is. Can Aspen say the same? I mean, have you two even done anything besides kiss? If even that?"

Harry blinked, disbelief flashing across his face. For a moment, he was silent, his arms tightening across his chest as if to ground himself. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and deadly calm. "What I do—or don't do—with Aspen is none of your business. If I'm not interested, then I'm not interested. Got it?"

He turned on his heel, his focus already back on Aspen. He could feel the seconds ticking by, and he didn't want to waste any more time entertaining Kirsten's desperate attempts to get under his skin. Aspen's shift started soon, and he had plans to steal a few more moments with her before she had to leave.

"Wait," Kirsten blurted, her hand flying out to rest against his chest. He barely spared her a glance, stepping back as if her touch burned.

"What?" His voice was clipped, his patience wearing thin.

Kirsten's eyes softened, her lips curving into what she thought was a tempting smile. "Come by tonight," she murmured, her tone low and inviting. "While she's at work. I can show you what a big mistake you're making."

Harry froze, his brows arching as he let out an incredulous hum. He didn't move, didn't speak, and Kirsten's heart raced, convinced for a moment that she'd gotten through to him. Her pulse quickened as his tall frame leaned forward and his head dipped slightly, his lips hovering near her ear.

"No," he said, his voice firm and unwavering. He pulled back, catching the stunned look on her face, and for the first time since their conversation started, he allowed a smirk to cross his lips.

Turning away with a scoff, he walked back toward Aspen, muttering under his breath, "Un-fucking-believable."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

In the car, Harry's hand rested on her mid-thigh over her jeans. He gently patted her thigh to get her attention off the road, glancing over at her when she turned her attention to him immediately. "I wanted t'tell you something," Harry started off. For the last few minutes on their walk back to his car and when they pushed out onto the road again, the conversation he had with Kirsten burned into his thoughts. 

He was conflicted on telling Aspen. On one hand, he vowed to communicate with her and to tell her everything, which he had been doing great at so far. On the other, he was hesitant because of Aspen and Kirstens friendship and what could become of it. Aspen tried her best to dislodge the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach. If his hand was still on her thigh under her hands, then it shouldn't be anything bad. It was a built in habit for Aspen to worry over the worst case scenario before reasoning with other explanations.

"When Kirsten pulled me aside to talk to me," Harry glanced over to Aspen before he turned back to the road, "it was a little... alarming." His brows furrowed as he sighed, the car rolling to a stop at the intersection. So he took that minute to look at her and once again, he saw her questioning look. He gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze gently.

Harry let out a slow exhale, his thumb unconsciously tracing light circles against the fabric of her jeans. Aspen's gaze flickered between his hand and his face, her brow knitting together in a mix of curiosity and apprehension. He could feel her body tense slightly beneath his touch, the unspoken question lingering in the air.

"When Kirsten pulled me aside to talk," Harry started again, his voice calm but tinged with irritation at the memory, "she said some things that were... out of line."

Aspen blinked, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but she stopped herself, waiting for him to continue. Harry noticed the slight downturn of her mouth, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of her sleeve.

"She implied," he hesitated, gripping the wheel tighter as the car started moving again, "that you weren't right f'me. That I should... I don't know, be with someone more like her."

Aspen's chest tightened, and she quickly averted her gaze to the passing scenery. Her mind reeled, the sting of Kirsten's words cutting deep even though they hadn't been said to her directly. She felt small, like a fragile thing in the shadow of her friend's confidence and boldness.

Harry's grip on the steering wheel tightened further, his knuckles whitening as he continued. "And then she had the nerve to invite me over later," he said, his tone laced with disbelief. "To 'change my mind,' she said." He scoffed, the memory still fresh and irritating. "Like I'd even consider somethin' like that. I shut it down immediately."

Aspen's breath hitched, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap as her mind tried to reconcile the words. Kirsten had done that? It was one thing for her to think such things, but to actively say them—and then take it a step further by trying to pull Harry away—felt like a betrayal Aspen hadn't expected. She bit her lip, fighting the urge to retreat into her thoughts entirely.

Harry glanced at her, catching the flicker of doubt and hurt in her expression. "Aspen," he said firmly, his voice softening as he reached over to rest his hand on hers. "It didn't matter what she said. It doesn't matter. I didn't even hesitate to turn her down. There's no way—no chance—I'd ever let her or anyone else come between us."

Aspen nodded slightly, her eyes still downcast but her grip on his hand tightening just enough for him to know she was listening. She swallowed hard, willing herself to push past the ache in her chest as she focused on the reassurance in his voice.

Aspen's chest felt heavy, her mind swirling with Kirsten's betrayal. Her friend—the one she'd confided in, laughed with, trusted—had thought so little of her. Worse, Kirsten had seen fit to say those things to Harry, to try and plant doubt where Aspen had already fought to build fragile confidence. The idea of being compared to someone as bold and self-assured as Kirsten made her feel small, like her quiet nature and shyness weren't enough, like she wasn't enough.

Her heart twisted painfully as Harry's words replayed in her mind. "That you weren't right for me." She knew he hadn't meant to hurt her by saying it, but the sting of those words stuck, a reflection of her own insecurities. She felt raw, exposed, as though Kirsten had picked apart everything she feared about herself and laid it bare.

Aspen's eyes welled slightly as she stared out the window, unwilling to let Harry see the tears threatening to spill. She knew he wasn't to blame—he'd stood up for her, defended their relationship, and shut Kirsten down—but the hurt lingered, deep and consuming. Why would Kirsten do this? Was I ever her friend to begin with?

A part of her wanted to retreat, to bury the feelings and nod along to Harry's reassurances. But the ache in her chest told her this wasn't something she could easily shake off. Kirsten's actions had struck at the very core of what Aspen struggled with—her worth.

Harry's eyes darted to her as they neared the library, catching the way her shoulders slumped. He didn't miss the faint flicker of hurt crossing her features before she hid it, burying her reaction behind her usual shy reserve. His jaw tightened as guilt pooled in his chest. He shouldn't have told her. It wasn't her fault, and now he could see the weight of it settling on her.

When he pulled into the small parking lot behind the library and killed the engine, Harry turned toward her, his hand still resting on her thigh. Aspen stayed silent, her fingers still playing with the threads of her sleeve as she stared at her lap.

"Hey," Harry said softly, tilting his head to try and catch her gaze. When she didn't look up, he reached over, his fingers gently tilting her chin so her eyes met his. His heart ached at the uncertainty he saw there, her wide brown eyes searching his face for answers.

"You've got t'know," he began, his voice low and steady, "that nothing anyone says about us— about you— is ever going to change how I feel." He paused, brushing his thumb lightly against her cheek, his gaze unwavering. "You're it f'me, Aspen. You're what I want. No one else, not now, not ever."

Aspen's breath hitched, her cheeks warming under his touch. She blinked a few times, processing his words as a flood of relief began to wash away the sting of Kirsten's actions. "But... Kirsten—." she started, her voice barely above a whisper, but Harry shook his head, cutting her off gently.

"Kirsten doesn't get to decide who's right f'me," he said firmly. "That's not her place. And honestly? She couldn't be more wrong." He let his hand drop from her face to hold hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "You're kind, you're thoughtful, y'make me want t'be better... You're everything I didn't know I needed. It's only your place to tell me those things. I only care 'bout what y'think and what y'want."

Aspen's lips parted slightly, and she tried to form a response, but the lump in her throat made it hard to speak. Instead, she nodded, her eyes glistening as she looked at him with a mixture of gratitude and shyness. Harry hummed softly, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. 

"I mean it," he murmured against her skin before pulling back to look at her again. "Kirsten doesn't matter, alright? You're the one I want, Aspen. Always. I don't ever doubt myself, especially not after I realized you're it for me. I don't need dark hair or terribly designed tattoos or an overwhelming amount of confidence. I's you, always you."

Her lips finally curled into a small, bashful smile, and she nodded again, her fingers curling tighter around his hand. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice soft but full of emotion. Aspen exhaled, her shoulders falling relaxed.

Harry chuckled lightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Y'don't have to thank me, love. Just... believe me, yeah? I promise tha' I mean every word."

"I do," Aspen said shyly, her cheeks flushing deeper. "T-thank you for telling me, Harry."

Harry smiled his lopsided smile, his heart swelling at her words and he mumbled out a small ''f course.' . He leaned in again, this time capturing her lips in a gentle but reassuring kiss, pouring every bit of his sincerity into the moment. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Now, go knock 'em dead at work," he said with a smirk, making her laugh softly. She nodded, her earlier worries now replaced with a quiet sense of security. Aspen leaned into his hands that reached up to cup her cheeks and wipe away at her eyes. Her lips brushed a gentle kiss to his palm with another content sigh.

As she gathered her bag and stepped out of the car, Harry watched her go, a content smile playing on his lips. Whatever doubts Kirsten had tried to plant, they didn't stand a chance—not when he had Aspen, and not when he was so sure she was everything he'd ever want. 

[blooddrinkingbartender]

Bill was still smiling softly at that. He had remembered that day well, even if Cassandra had eventually passed out from the mesmerism he had forced onto her. Luckily, he was able to pretend it was just her being tired from 'Santa Claus' Magic' (as he told Russell) making her happy.

The memory slowly faded out into something else. He almost wanted to tell it to stay, so he could remain in that moment a little while longer. Older again. Not much younger than he was now. There she was, shouting behind him as he walked out of the front door. She was close behind.

You selfish piece of shit! After everything I've done for you, you're just going to leave your poor old mother behind?! How fucking dare you?! None of your brothers would have done this to me. Why, out of all of my children, did you have the one to live?! Why can't you ever think of anyone other than yourself?!

"I'm, I'm sorry, mom..." Russell no longer sounded upset or afraid as he said those words. He just sounded resigned, like he was tired of life itself. He attempted to soften the blow, "It's, it's not you, I, I just wanna see, see other places..."

Oh you'll see plenty of other places if you even fucking live. I hope you die out there and the last place you see are those fucking trenches! Because no one else is going to want you! Nowhere else is home! Home is here, with me. Everywhere you go, everyone is going to hate you eventually and then you'll come back, to me, where you belong!

"She said home was with her, but no, it , it never, it never was. I don't, I don't belong anywhere, not, not even with her. M-maybe I, I was being selfish... but, I, I just didn't want to come back to, to more of how she, she treats me. I'm, I'm a coward I know, but it, it wears you down..."

Bill had been sitting outside, whittling as Cassandra slammed the door behind Russell, still ranting and raving even as she walked away. At least by this point, he was too big for her to drag him outside by his ears anymore.

"I did tell him she wouldn't be happy," Bill said to Jonathan, "She can't manipulate or hurt him if he isn't there after all. Of course, I didn't like the idea of him leaving for good, but it's his choice to make."

I said she wouldn't be happy, boy...

"I told her if, if I survived the war, I, I wasn't planning to, to come back home to her... I, I honestly thought she, she might have been happy to, to be rid of me, Bill," Russell said, "I know you, you don't, you don't want me to go either."

It's not that I don't want you to, lad. I'm just going to miss you. Besides, it's your choice, I can't force you to stay.

"I, I mean, you, you could if, if you really wanted, but then there would be, be the risk of, of messing my, my brain up," Russell continued.

And even if there wasn't the risk, I wouldn't force you into that. It's why I've never tried to make you think better of yourself. You've got to do that on your own, without anyone having to scramble your brain and force you.

"I'll, I'll still come, come back and see you, and, and write to you, you know, if I survive..." Russell said, before he then seemed to remember that this was just a memory. A shadow of what things gone by, "I, I had been told to, to join the forces on, on the front... and, and I just accepted with-without question, I, I was going to head out in, in a few days...."

"He wanted to get away from her," Bill said, "He essentially signed a death warrant because he wanted to get away from her. I should have killed her from the start, but no, I thought he already didn't have one parent, I probably shouldn't take away the other one. God damn it..."

"I... I think I... I need a, a break... I'm, I'm sorry..." Russell said then, "I, I know we've, we've not, not seen much but... I'm, I'm sorry..."

Pathetic. That's how it felt. Like he was giving up before they had even really gotten started. But it was feeling like it was running over a bit much, like a pot that couldn't hold enough of the water being poured in. Seeing these images that were so foreign and yet so familiar.

{Jonathan felt his heart warm up at as he listened to both men speak - the fondness of the memory was clear as day, for a moment he could feel the earlier somber mood lift. A part of him was grateful that Dr.Swansea went for a more lighthearted line of questioning, hopefully this would prove useful to restoring Russell’s memories.}

{Dr.Swansea looked pleased to hear the reply he received from the young man, pausing to think yet again as to what else he could inquire on - he eventually spoke.} “Could you tell me something about yourself that you shared with someone close and they didn’t take the news well?” {He asked, wondering what kind of reply he’d get from this line of questioning.}

{Jonathan couldn’t help but quirk up a brow at the question, he found it… oddly specific? But he trusted his judgement, perhaps it had merit to it as specific questions require specific answers and those answers could just be what Russell needs to remember who he is.}

[beansidhebumbling]

So American

'You're so American.'

Nesta said to him, over a cup of coffee in Williamsburg. Words enmeshed between a huff and a laugh, they mixed with the steam emanating from her mug and danced in the morning light.

Cassian smiled reflexively. He was clueless as to why she said it. As to what prompted that observation at this moment. To be quite frank he didn't care.

Because he knew it meant 'I love you'.

-

She said it first in October, drunk and unguarded. An angel in a Manhattan cab.

'Your teeth glow in the dark, you know that?'

Throwing her hand dramatically over eyes, as if to protect them from the ivory glare, she cackled to herself before muttering fondly,

'You're so American.'

And he was half gone on her before he knew her name. So how could he not be in love with her when she teased him, months later, smelling of cheap rum and spiced vanilla?

Leaning a little closer, feeling his seatbelt biting against his chest, he retorted,

'It's not my fault you Europeans have horrible teeth.'

Her hand moved from her eyes to push indignantly at his shoulder.

'My teeth are immaculate I'll have you know.'

She bared them. Straight pearls framed by chapped lips framed by dimples that were quickly becoming an obsession of his. Cassian snorted, forcing a stern expression onto his face and steel into his voice.

'I'll have to inspect them myself I fear, Miss Archeron.'

Her grey eyes darted up to his, fiery and beautiful.

'And how do you intend to do that, Sir?'

Sir.

Sir.

For a moment his pulse stopped, before returning at a canter.

She was dangerous. He watched her track the rising flush across his cheekbones with smug satisfaction and a blooming smirk.

Nesta knew exactly what she did to him.

He grabbed her waist, hoping the warmth of his handprint would be felt all the way to her soul, pulling her from her slouched position until she was almost atop him.

And answered the question thoroughly with his tongue.

-

She had said it a hundred times since that night.

When he cried at the Superbowl. When he painted his face green on St. Patrick's Day. When she discovered his Beretta in the nightstand. When he refused to take sick leave after catching the flu. When he drove to Vermont to get her cherry pie.

The words came in many shades, bemused and angry and fond and frustrated and amused.

He'd fallen out of love with his home a long time ago. Patriotism lay buried in blood-drenched sand.

But through her eyes, with her words, he learned to love himself again.

-

The familiar sight of Cassian in Devocion, with his hair slicked back in a low bun and his hands dwarfing the earthen mug he held made her smile when she entered. He was texting someone, probably her, as she approached.

He was in his element here, waiting with their usual drinks at their usual table, carrying that New York confidence she was doubtful she'd ever acquire.

Comfortable and organic and..

'You're so American.'

Nesta huffed, unwinding his scarf from her neck as she sat, smothering the giddy earnestness that tried to leak through. She was not American after all.

He looked up and grinned, eyes softer than the cardigan she was wrapped in. He studied her, stare tracking from her worn runners up her leggings and long puffer coat to her bare face and slightly greasy hair.

'I'm going to marry you.'

He declared, making her choke on frothed milk.

He was ridiculous, had been since Nesta first met him in that godforsaken nightclub in Bushwick. Ridiculously brilliant and bright. Ridiculously stubborn and protective. Ridiculously charming and lovable.

But this took the biscuit. She was cold and more than a bit hungover. And he was talking about marriage like the weather. So confident with his life-changing statement, a quiet conviction to his words, like any other outcome was impossible.

She couldn't fight the smile he pulled from her heart onto her face.

So bloody dramatic.

So fucking American.

So damned right.

She was going to marry him.

[bree-peasant]

One for the Ages - a Kakashi x fem!Reader fic

Author's note: Hey guys! I've not written a fic in years, but I'm stuck at home with a broken ankle, so getting back into it! This one is a reader self-insert, but the reader has a pre-established past, that'll reveal itself throughout the story. A real slowburn, intended to have multiple parts, so please let me know if you enjoyed it and I'll keep going!

Word count: ~2.5k

Summary: A new shinobi joins the Konoha ranks and Kakashi finds himself inexplicably drawn to her. Includes scenes with Gai & Iruka.

Warnings: Mentions of blood and trauma, otherwise none!

Enjoy! ♡

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Chapter 1:

"I've gathered you all here because there will be a new shinobi joining your ranks..." The Third Hokage paused his address to the highest ranking village ninjas and glanced over to the woman standing beside him. Her face looked solemn but sure.

"Y/N is a refugee from the Village Hidden in the Wind and will be taking over one of the graduate genin teams as their sensei. I'm sure you will all make her feel welcome in our village's customary ways."

"But Lord Hokage!" Gai made his way through to the front of the small crowd. "I don't mean to challenge your decision, Lord Hokage, but how are we to accept this stranger as a shinobi, and a jōnin level one at that! Surely her skills must be put to the test beforehand!" A whisper of approval among the crowd followed Gai's words.

The Hokage turned to look at Y/N with a raised brow.

"I will do what is required of me." She nodded in return.

"Then it has been settled!" The Hokage turned back to the crowd. "Y/N will showcase her talents as a shinobi in a friendly fight. And I'm sure you won't mind being her opponent Gai, since you spoke so fervently on the matter." There was a note of playfulness in his voice.

"Yes of course, Lord Hokage! Maito Gai never backs down from a challenge!" The bushy browed sensei gave his usual flamboyant pose and a thumbs-up, not forgetting to throw a glance at his rival Kakashi, who stood towards the back of the crowd. For once Kakashi had put his book down, as he studied the new shinobi's face. It wasn't quite that he knew her from somewhere, rather, he knew that look in her eyes...

The crowd parted to make room for a make-shift arena for the match. Y/N and Gai stood in the centre, facing each other. There was a small smile playing on her lips as she watched Gai flash his stance.

"Forgive me if I don't go easy on you, newcomer!"

"I didn't ask you to."

"Confidence! I respect that in an opponent! Now let's see what you've got!"

In a flash Gai was behind her with a kick to the head, but despite his impeccable speed and technique, Y/N seemed to block it with ease. He followed up with a fury of punches and kicks, but none of them seem to land. It was like she could sense him coming from each direction. As Gai tried to land another powerful kick,  Y/N successfully dodged and tried to return the favour. Gai easily evaded her attack and jumped some distance away from her.

"You're fast, I'll give you that. But you've gone in too cocky." Y/N smirked, an evident smile creasing her face for the first time that day.

"It's time we ended this fight. Wind style, syphon jitsu!" A gust of wind rolled around Gai and pulled him towards Y/N like a torpedo. Before he could release himself, he was met with a powerful kick that sent him flying towards the end of the fighting area, cracking the ground beneath him with his fall.

"Well, I believe that's sufficient proof, wouldn't you say?" The Hokage pronounced from the podium. "Let's call it a day before someone gets a concussion!" As the Hokage and his men made to leave, Y/N approached Gai and extended her hand to him with a friendly smile, helping him back to his feet.

"Your skills are indeed formidable! But don't think I'll go down that easy on our next encounter!" He flashed her a toothy grin, which she matched right back.

"Your taijitsu is some of the best I've ever seen. Perhaps you could teach me in a friendlier sparring match next time?"

"I'd be delighted. You should see my student Rock Lee's taijitsu skills as well! He's quite the talent. Of course, Neji Huyga is also on my team and he's a real prodigy."

"A Huyga! I believe I might have one of those on my team too... I really must brush up on my knowledge of the village history and the next generation of shinobi..." Y/N brushed the sweat off her brow with a concerned expression on her face. She really had her work cut out for her.

"In that case you should speak to Iruka at the Academy. He's been teaching the last few classes of genin to graduate there, he'll be able to catch you up on things!" Gai gave her a thumbs up. "I will see you around, Y/N-sensei. Welcome to Konoha!"

She bowed in return and made her way towards the exit. Kakashi stood near the door, leaning against the wall with his book in hand. As she walked passed him, he looked up and his lazy eye met hers.

"Your book..."

"Hm?"

"It's upside down."

Flustered, Kakashi looked down, and then back up towards her, but she'd already disappeared. "I've never been worse at my job as a ninja, than in this moment." He thought to himself following the rest of the crowd outside. Perhaps following the new jōnin from afar wasn't the best tactic to employ here. He'd have to get to know her the old-fashioned way.

Next day:

The kids had all just piled out of the classroom when he heard a knock on the door frame.

Iruka looked up to see a female shinobi he'd not met before.

"Is this a good time?" She asked.

"Ahem, yes, what can I do for you?"

"My name is Y/N. I'm a... transfer from another village. I'll be training team 8 from now on. I was told you could help me catch up on the village's history, Iruka-sensei." A soft smile blossomed on her lips as she bowed her head to him.

Flustered by the way she had voiced her request, Iruka blushed and stammered out a response. "Of course, I'd be happy to help! What is it that you want to know?"

"Well, my students' backgrounds for a start, the village clan history, really anything I can get my hands on. I'm keen to do right by these kids."

Her words strung a chord with Iruka. "Yes, we all are. Well, I have some books with me here that you're welcome to borrow, and I have some more things at my flat that might be useful. I could bring them tomorrow... or if you'd like to join me, I have some spare time this afternoon, I can take you through them myself?" Iruka was bright red by this point, it had taken all the courage he had left that day to suggest it.

"That would be awfully generous of you, if you're sure I won't be imposing!"

"Not at all! I'll just finish collecting my things and we can head out!"

They walked back towards his place, Iruka filling their silence with stories of his students, often sending Y/N into fits of laughter. It was nice being in Iruka's presence, warm, light. Iruka, in the middle of a story, turned to her, gesticulating wildly for added affect when he bumped shoulders with someone.

"Hey! Oh... Kakashi... sorry, I wasn't looking."

The grey haired ninja stood in casual clothing with a grocery bag in his arm and an unreadable expression on his masked face. He nodded to Iruka without even looking at him, his lazy eye resting on Y/N instead.

"You two look like you're getting along."

Iruka blushed, but Y/N's face remained unchanged. She made a mental note of his name. Kakashi. There was something about him that made her feel uneasy. Like he could see right through her.

"Day off?" She casually asked.

"Not quite. I've been assigned a solo mission and just had some time to prepare for it."

"Well good luck on it." Iruka threw in. "We better get on, Y/N, it'll take me some time to dig everything up for you."

"Right." She bowed to Kakashi and followed Iruka, already a few steps ahead, eager to lose the notorious jonin. She couldn't help but throw a glance back at Kakashi, just to see his back lazily swaying as the distance between them grew. Something in her ached at the sight.

A few days later:

Another sleepless night. It wasn't that her new bed, in her new room, part of her new life, was uncomfortable. It was rather that things were too comfortable. She couldn't remember the last time she could sleep peacefully without fear for her life before coming to Konoha. The Hokage had been kind enough to give her time to settle in, so she hadn't been sent on any missions yet; still, her body jolted awake at night, her mind unable to tell reality from the demons that haunted her sleep.

Tonight was even worse, Y/N hadn't been able to sleep a wink, aware of every slight noise, the room stuffy, her body hot. In a moment of desperation, she'd jumped out of bed, grabbed a scarf and walked out in the cool night air. She strolled aimlessly, her eyes adjusting to the dimly lit village, her head spinning with thoughts about the past, the training she'd prepared for her newly acquired genin, whom she'd meet soon, but most of all (and she really did try to shoo that particular one away) she thought about the mysterious gray-haired ninja, whose single visible eye had bored into her soul.

As if answering her muddled thoughts, a sudden rustling caught her attention. A shadow jumped out of one of the nearby trees, landing onto the ground, stumbled, hand clutching side, but noticing he wasn't alone, tried to regain composure. The figure walked towards her, slightly strained until he came into sight.

"Kakashi! What are you doing sneaking around at this time of night!"

"I should ask you the same thing. A little late for a stroll, is it not?

His mask and clothes were covered in mud and dust, his whole look quite dishevelled. Noticing Y/N's eyes studying him curiously, he let out a slight chuckle.

"I've just come back from my mission, that's all."

"You're injured." She said plainly.

"It's nothing, really."

"I can smell the blood from here. I think you should go to the hospital..."

"No." He quickly cut her off. Seeing the look of persistence on her face, he realised he wouldn't get out of this one so easily.

"I can't go to the hospital, they'll keep me there for days, and I have... I have things to take care of tomorrow." His whole body sagged in resignation.

"Can I at least have a look?" She said softly.

"If you must, but I warn you, it's not pretty."

Kakashi unzipped his vest and lifted his shirt, showing a nasty, open wound on his left side. It didn't seem too deep, but definitely painful.

"Don't worry, I've seen enough blood i my time." Y/N stepped closer, as the darkness of night didn't allow for clear vision. She didn't fail to notice the strained muscles of his abdomen, or the way his v-line tucked into his trousers, but pulled all her strength into focusing on the wound.

"You won't go to hospital, fine. But will you let me help? If you don't take care of this, you'll wind up with an infection, that'll keep you in hospital longer than a few days."

"What can you do?" Kakashi's voice sounded unsure.

"Do you think you could trust me?"

He stood silent for a moment, studying her face. To his own dismay he nodded.

"Then follow me."

They walked together slowly, Kakashi tiredly dragging his feet at times.

"You can lean on me if you need to. I can handle the weight."

"No, I'm quite alright. Just tired."

"You're very stubborn, you know. I'm surprised you're even coming now." He could detect a smile in her voice, the thought of which made him shiver.

"Not as surprised as I am." He swallowed thickly. He hated talking about himself. "What were you doing out at this time anyway?"

"I..." Y/N fell silent for a moment. She still didn't know how to open up to strangers, how much of her past she could reveal without it becoming dangerous. "I find it hard to sleep. If I do manage it, I'm plagued by nightmares, the rest of the time I'm just... on edge. Walking outside seems to help."

Kakashi just nodded in response, hoping it didn't go unnoticed in the darkness that surrounded them. In truth, he wanted to tell her he understood perfectly, and that he couldn't remember the last time he got a good night's sleep. That he felt perpetually exhausted and feared the shadows that his mind conjured at night. Most of all, he wanted to ask if they could keep each other company on their sleepless nights. But it felt much too soon for any of that, so he said nothing.

"We're here." Y/N announced, standing at the door of her building. She pulled out her key and pushed the door open, making way for Kakashi to go in.

"Is this... your flat? Y/N, I hate to tell you this, but I'm really not that kind of girl." Kakashi tried to joke, but something caught in his throat and he coughed, writhing in pain from his wound.

"Very smooth." She scoffed at him. She lead him into the kitchen and turned on the light, revealing strings of drying herbs, hanging across her window.

"Sit here." She pointed at a chair and Kakashi silently obeyed, taking in his surroundings. She didn't have much, just enough mugs and plates for the comfort of one, no pictures or personal memorabilia hanging on the walls. So she hadn't brought much with her then.

Meanwhile, Y/N picked a couple of different leaves from her drying racks and started mixing them into a paste, adding liquid from little jars, strewn along the window sill. Finally she walked over with the mixture in hand.

"May I?" She asked, pointing at his wounded side.

Kakashi lifted his shirt once more, and kneeling next to him, she started carefully covering the gash with the sticky green concoction.

The room was filled with a grassy scent. Her hands were cold, which eased the pain of contact with the wound. Kakashi tried his best not to wince, but his body betrayed him by twitching away from her every time she touched him. He wondered whether it was just the pain, or the sensation of being touched by another, that had become so foreign to him outside of combat.

"There, there. Almost done." Her voice was soothing, almost sweet. Kakashi's body instinctively relaxed to the sound of it. They remained like this for a few seconds, him silently watching her movements from above.

"You know, you should take it easy on Iruka. I think he has a crush on you." He spoke quietly, testing the waters.

Y/N cocked a brow, but refrained from looking up, worried that her flushed cheeks would betray her.

"I think that's a stretch, he was just being helpful, that's all." She tried to keep her voice nonchalant.

Kakashi just hummed in response, unsure if he'd managed to find what he was looking for.

"Right, you can put your shirt back down. This should speed up the healing, and subdue the pain. It'll harden and act as a protector for the wound. Just wash it off in a couple of days." She got up, heading towards the sink to wash up.

"How did you know to do this?" He asked, standing up to test how it felt when he moved.

"There was a woman in my village." Y/N spoke with her back still turned to him, eyes focused on washing the mixing dish. "People were afraid of her, thought her a witch. But she was kind to me when not many others were." She placed the dish on the drying rack and turned back to look at him. There was a sadness in her eyes, that didn't evade Kakashi's notice. "She shared some of her knowledge of herbs with me. Insisted it could save my life some day."

They stood silently, staring at each other. It seemed they had both suddenly realised that they were alone in her flat, and weren't sure what to do with that knowledge.

"I should probably go." Kakashi was the first to break their silence.

"Yes. Probably should."

"I'll see you around. And Y/N... thank you."

Without waiting for a response, Kakashi turned towards the door, and left somewhat hurriedly, his heart in his throat. Y/N remained in her place for a minute longer, staring at the space he'd just occupied. How right it had felt to have him here, in her kitchen. How afraid she was of that thought.

[roryacker]

WereGhost part 4

writing is under the cut as usual <3 couldn't force the art out, for some reason my brain won't let art on my phone happen, I've been trying for days it just ain't workin, and I have gifts to finish working on so PC is a no-go. Still! Writing!!

I do oddly feel more confident about posting things if there's art with it? Like I faked myself out trying to post this one 3 times and kept adding more thanks to that because I was like "wait no not good :("

Maybe because art's like. My thing. But screw it, if I'm getting over my anxiety I'm hitting all the weird triggers, it's a silly werewolf AU I don't think people care if one part has art or not

Simon doesn't like how Johnny smells. He was fine before, but since that morning the older man left with him in such a hurry he's smelled different. To a normal person that wouldn't matter, but werewolves aren't exactly normal folk, and smell is a very important part of their routine, Simon's especially.

Simon was familiar with Johnny's scent before- warm and herbal, a comfortable smell that Simon wasn't afraid to admit was soothing. It's probably part of why he's stuck around. Since he got back, since the anxiety and stress faded out, he's smelled different. It changed. It was faint, but there- something odd and flowery. Simon knew he didn't like it, but he wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it's the fact it changed at all, maybe it's what it might signals, to hell if Simon knows.

Johnny, from there, starts going out more often, for longer, starting at earlier times, and the scent only gets stronger. It mixes with his original one, shifting and changing, and Simon hates it.

He especially hates it when Johnny comes home in the middle of the day, just once, and immediately gets to shoving Simon under the bed, blankets and all, muttering out something about not being prepared and needing Simon to sit still and be quiet for a while- Simon growls and snaps at his feet, though his teeth never connect, but begrudgingly does as told, ignoring the way his heart thuds in his chest and ears flatten to his skull. After a bit, cleaning up and trying to make the place look nice, it seems, sweeping fur off of the bed and floor, Johnny leaves, and Simon is left alone, confused and quite frankly tired, watching the door shut from the little space under the blanket hanging off the bed.

By the time a few minutes pass, he hears the front door open, and another voice starts up. It's not the older man, it's not Johnny, it's new and unfamiliar, soft and feminine, and Simon can feel the fur on his neck raise at the sound. Oddly, he feels threatened. He doesn't like the new voice, doesn't like the scent that follows, doesn't like how it's the scent that's been drowning out Johnny's for weeks now. But he sits there, tense and uncomfortable, listening to them talk in the sitting room. He doesn't like it, but he does it, if only so Johnny doesn't change his mind about all of this and kick Simon out after all.

It lasts for a few hours, Simon unable to fall back asleep, until he hears the door open and shut again. He thinks Johnny might have left too, but no- footsteps come up to the door, and he steps inside the bedroom, crouching down with a sigh.

"Think she likes me, Ghost. Might be the one, aye? Just have to see what to do about you, then..."

His heart sinks at the words, but doesn't reply- just growls lowly and shifts his weight, curling up further to avoid looking at the man.

"Aye, I know. Yer feelin' grumpy. Sorry."

Johnny tries to drag him out from under the bed, gripping the blankets tight, but Simon fights, of course. He can't go one day without being stubborn, especially not when he feels so personally wronged.

"Jesus, fine. Stay under there. Don't make a mess."

It continued on like that for a few days. Long, uncomfortable, grueling days, where Simon slowly began to set up a little den under the bed. It was nice and dark, so at that point it was really just instinct drawing him into it, pushing and arranging the blankets into a cozy little spot for himself. Eventually he manages to fall asleep even when Johnny has his bird over, as much as he might not like it- Johnny slides a plate of food under the bed to try and keep him from getting snappy, not that it ever works, and it becomes another routine.

Simon as tired of it the moment it began, but he tolerates it anyways, just to avoid being thrown out. His leg's mostly healed, and he knows he needs to leave, get out into the forest again, get back to his normal life.

But he doesn't want to.

He gets cooked food, he gets the warmth and comfort of soft blankets that smell pleasant- they're the only thing that don't have that new scent on them, at this point- he gets to sleep in peace without having to worry about wolfhounds scenting him out or humans coming across him, doesn't have to worry about any other predators trying to get a meal out of him, there's no hiding, there's no running, no wasted energy... but he can tell Johnny knows he's healing. He leaves the bandages on longer and comments on the progress he's made, and at this point Simon knows that if he doesn't leave on his own Johnny might just toss him out anyways.

The thought makes him uncomfortably bitter, a sour feeling that wells up in his chest and leaves him feeling nothing short of sick.

He tolerates it all for a few more days, making the most of it, and then watches intently as Johnny leaves, one morning slipping out from under the bed to watch him from the doorway as he leaves, locking the front door behind him. He loafs around for an hour or so, then shifts, standing on unsteady legs and adjusting to the feeling of being human for a bit- as close as he can get, anyways. Simon finds himself staring at a window for a long while, facing the woods.

With a sigh, he steps closer and pushes it open, and crawls out, shutting the window behind him and shifting back so he can break off into a run. He regrets it the moment he's outside, the air frigid and uncomfortable against his fur, feeling like needles against his skin, but he doesn't have much of a choice at this point. He does it himself or Johnny will do it for him, maybe throw him outside in his sleep or something. He's careful not to leave any prints, stepping lightly and never lingering in one spot too long. The beartrap that got him into this mess serves as a marker, telling him where to go, and from there it's just a matter of following old paths, and by the time night starts to fall he's found it again. His scent has faded from months of inactivity, but it's his territory all the same.

Suddenly it doesn't feel like home at all, but he reasons that it won't be come a few weeks, anyways, when the wolfhunts start again the second the town's dogs start to catch his scent, and he'll have to leave all over again. He curls up in a familiar hollow, surrounded on all sides but one so he can't be reached or found quite as easily, and falls asleep with the lingering thoughts of fleeting warmth and soft fabrics on his mind.

[uselessbard1031]

Snowflakes & Sunshine -- Sevika X Chem Baron! Reader (C1 Preview -- AO3 link at end)

You can hear your captive before you can see her. Three of your largest men drag her into your hideout, yet still she is grunting and growling as she tries to fight them off. All the theatrics. Sevika really did live up to her reputation, now didn't she?

You tuck the book you were reading away into the built-in wood shelves of your basement hovel just in time for the twins (Ratchet and Clank) to shove her forward and remove the blindfold from her grey eyes. Your captive stops fighting, instead glaring at every shadow and corner, daring it to attack. As she takes in the room, you pour yourself a cup of tea from the kettle on your single burner stove. It sits between your cot of a bed and the entrance to your bathroom. After that, it's your desk and the bookshelf along with an old five time hand-me-down loveseat in desperate need of a reupholster. The buttons on the tufts don't match and two have popped straight off. But it was here when you got here and was comfortable enough for a seat.

“What is this dump?” Sevika scoffs. Some of the hair from her half-back ponytail falls in front of her eyes. She blows it back the way a bull does before it charges. 

“My office,” you respond simply, leaning against the front of your old wooden desk. “It's where you'll be staying until your boss pays up. You're free to explore the other rooms too, once you cool off a little.”

“No locks?” She half scoffs half laughs. “No chains?”

“Unless you try to leave or attack me, I don't find them necessary.”

With a disbelieving -- no, challenging -- grin the woman turns for the door instantly.

“Do you want locks and chains?” You sip your tea. “Kinky.”

“You can't stop me,” she says it like a fact. Which it is. She's easily twice your size. A fight is unlikely to go in your favour. Good thing you don't plan to fight.

“No,” you agree. “But Brutus can. Brutus?” The burly man comes in from the hallway to block the door. To block her path. If he were to enter your room, he'd have to duck. And bend his knees. And maybe squeeze his shoulders together too. Good thing he's not entering yet. “If she tries to leave, chain her up. I think she likes it.”

Sevika turns. She can't face him. But she can more than face you. 

“You don't know who you're messing with here,” she warns. How cliche. “Silco has a lot on his plate right now. The last thing he needs is to be wasting time with some nobodies so cowardly they had to jump me to get me here.”

Silco needs her. Hopefully more than he needs is attention to be elsewhere. He won't fight you. No. Like she said, you're nobodies. Fringe at best in the chem baron game. So he won't waste the men or the time. He wants Sevika back? He'll just pay you off. Deal with you later. If he feels like he can crush your forces without trying, then he'll leave you in the palm of his hand for now -- if only not to strain his wrist with the fist he'd need to make to end you. Besides, he's focused on Jinx. You had it on good authority that the girl's favourite holiday was the one coming up. Even better authority said that your gift to her was about to arrive. 

You crack a smirk. “You’re just a ray of optimism, Sunshine.” 

She growls at the nickname. You laugh, pushing yourself off of the desk.

“Get cozy,” you say, patting her cheek. She jerks her head away, a threat in the way she bares her teeth. “I think there's going to be snow for Christmas.”

There is indeed snow for Christmas. Of course there is. And it's all thanks to you. 

You see, Zaun hasn't seen snow for the last decade and a half due to this obnoxious Piltovian factory built right above the promenade level. It's wide and flat and pumps all of its smog and runoff down to your city. Between it and the bridge, about three quarters of Zaun has had only the rain of pollutants in all this time. Someone had to blow it up. With the workers on a union strike far away and safe from the crossfire? That someone became you.

The explosion is enough to rattle down the valley walls of the city and wake every alleycat and drunkard left out on the streets. Snow falls at first in a big white sheet that covers everything from the ground to the rooftops. Then it doesn't stop; a flurry of soft white dots like horizontal stars in the window. Outside the main door of your hideout (a bookstore and cafe offering both free books and coffee on most days when your heart strings are pulled by someone hopeful but broke), it's like a small white step has appeared; one stair up closer to the opulence of those who live above. A few people leave their homes. At first, they're curious, then, rather swiftly, curiosity turns to wonder and awe and snowball fights and snow angels. For once, it'll be a white Chsirmas in Zaun. 

You notice Sevika looking out the window and have to chuckle. Though her tough girl mask attempts to cover it, there's this sparkle like a snowflake in her steel eyes. That childlike magic of a snow day beckons her the same as everyone else only, she fights it off with a stick.

“Brutus!” You call over your shoulder. The giant appears between two tall oak bookshelves. “Get the cocoa barrels from the basement. Make sure everyone's got a scarf and mittens. I'm taking our new pet outside.”

...Continued on Ao3

[alldthoughtsinmyhead]

The soft flicker of lit candles bathed the spacious, richly decorated bedroom in a warm, golden light. It was a peaceful night; the stars sparkled in the clear sky, and the leaves outside rustled gently in the breeze, creating a soothing rhythm.

Aaron stood by the mirror, wearing a floor-length black silk robe that parted at the front to reveal his bare chest and matching trousers. He was carefully combing his hair and goatee, inspecting his teeth, and, finally... sniffing himself.

Milele tried—unsuccessfully—to stifle her giggles, the sound bubbling up until she couldn’t hold it in any longer, bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Aaron paused mid-sniff and glanced at her reflection in the mirror, a mixture of amusement and confusion on his face. She had snorted!

"Care to share the joke?" he asked with a playful half-smile.

"You’re so meticulous with your grooming," she replied, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I’ve been watching you all night. You cleaned your nails, brushed your teeth, had a bath, and spent ages in front of the mirror, checking for who-knows-what! You remind me of the cat my family had back home. He was obsessed with staying clean."

Aaron turned away from the mirror, his movements smooth as he approached her, holding her gaze. "Are you saying I remind you of a cat?" His voice dropped to a low, velvety tone, his lips barely moving, the words emerging like a soft purr.

Milele's heart gave a lurch echoing the kick she felt between her legs. She knew he was probably playing into her reference of a cat by mimicking one but his mannerisms elicited a rather violent reaction from her body. He looked so good half-dressed. Black was definitely his color. He was looking at her with a twinkle in his eye that spelled mischief as he settled in beside her. She found she had forgotten how to breathe.

"The first person I heard snortle was an old drunk. I don't think I've ever heard that sound from a woman. Where exactly did you grow u-"

A soft pillow landed on his face followed by another and another. She raised her hand to throw one more when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on his exposed chest bringing her face so close to his that she could feel his breath on her face. Milele felt dizzy.

"Do you know that hitting someone is an invitation to fight? Do you want to wrestle with me, Milele?"

Milele shifted her body on his to a more comfortable position before speaking. "You called me a drunk old man." She pouted.

"W-what?!" Aaron stammered with a short laugh. "That wasn't what I said! I said... you know what, never mind." He moved her hair away from her face with his free hand still holding her wrist with the other. "It sounds nice, your laugh. I was just teasing you."

Milele ducked her head shyly. Burying her face in his neck, she said, "I'm sorry for hitting you. I hope I didn't hurt you."

Aaron's hand in her hair trailed a line down her back as he laughed long and hard. "Even if you threw your entire body weight on me, my sweet, you couldn't remotely hurt a strand of hair on my body."

A real problem was beginning to form for Milele. Her nightwear was a short linen dress held up by tiny straps. The fabric was so thin that she could feel the vibrations from Aaron's chest as if she were bare. As her sensitive nipples started to harden, she impulsively pressed her breasts against him rubbing the little pebbles against his hard body.

Short hot breaths escaped her parted lips as her body began to undulate against his. The dull ache between her legs was getting harder to bear so she moved her body to straddle one of Aaron's muscled thighs slowly grinding herself against it.

The room went completely silent as Aaron realized what was happening. He was starting to feel a warm wetness on his thigh from the point where she ground against him. Her face in his neck nuzzled against him, her breath coming in short gasps.

He looked down at her body over her shoulder. Her short dress had ridden up even higher barely covering the large globes of her perfectly shaped ass. His member stirred against her belly and she moaned softly into his neck, grinding harder against his leg. Resting on the dip of her lower back was his left arm, a breath away from that inviting ass.

Before he could stop himself he reached out and ran his palm lightly over both cheeks. On his way back up, the linen caught his palm and rode even higher, exposing the bottom of her butt cheeks. Telling himself he just wanted to cover her up, he grabbed the edge of her dress and pulled it down, his knuckles grazing her ass as he did so.

He marveled at how soft her skin was, uncurling his fingers from her dress to trace feather-light touches over the underside of her bum. A sob escaped Milele as she rode his thigh in earnest, gyrating her hips so her clit could rub against his silk-covered leg.

Trying to maintain control of himself, Aaron moved to shift his fast-hardening appendage away from her supple stomach but her little sounds of frustration caught his attention. He realized she wasn't angled quite right which was delaying her orgasm. Grabbing her hips with his large hands, he halted her motion.

Milele lifted herself halfway off him, a soft whimper escaping her lips as she glanced at him.

"Look at me." The words were simple, yet carried an undeniable command, and Milele found herself unable to look away.

He ran his eyes lazily over her face and down her collarbone to her bosom where her nipples jutted out, proudly pushing against the fabric of her dress. He kept his eyes on those points and Milele found herself pushing her chest further out for his gaze.

Her chest felt so heavy, in a way they hadn't felt before, and her vision was starting to get blurry. Her skin was on fire, yet all he did was look at her breasts like he wanted to devour them.

She began to tremble when he dragged his eyes back to hers. Holding her gaze, he tightened his grip on her hip and pulled her lower body towards him while lifting his leg slightly at the same time.

"It's okay. . . I'll take care of you, " he purred in his deep baritone, sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.

The maneuver exerted the perfect pressure on her little sweet nub causing her to gasp and involuntarily tighten her hands around his neck. Aaron's eyes darkened with lust at the beautiful sight unfolding before him. Her small hands around his neck sent more blood-pumping to his already stiff rod.

He started to move her back and forth on his thigh, the whole time keeping his eyes locked on hers.

She started to sob as a tingling sensation started deep in her pelvic region. Her insides clenched and she stiffened, letting out a small cry as her orgasm crashed over her in ripples. A pool of liquid gushed out from her drenching the left leg of his pants and robe.

Sighing contentedly, she lay back into his arms allowing the sudden wave of exhaustion that came over her to lull her into a deep sleep. Somewhere at the back of her head, her mother's voice was ringing out calling her a whore for throwing herself at a man so shamelessly and behaving so wantonly.

She quieted the voice of doubt in her mind, irritation flickering beneath the surface. Aaron held her close, his arms a sanctuary, a reminder that he had not cast her aside, as her mother had warned would happen if she gave herself without being pursued. She smiled, allowing a small ember of joy to burn brighter within her, its warmth pushing away the lingering shadows of her mother's judgment.

***

Long after Milele had fallen into a peaceful sleep, Aaron remained motionless, her soft breathing the only sound in the quiet room. His arms cradled her against him, her warmth a stark contrast to the chill of his pants—a reminder that he needed to clean up, to shift and find comfort again. But every time he thought about putting her down, a pang of reluctance stopped him.

She looked so serene, so at ease nestled against him, and for the first time in a long while, she made him feel like everything had found its place. A small, almost imperceptible laugh bubbled up from deep inside him, because the truth was, he felt anything but relaxed. His body was stiff, his muscles aching from the tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying. But as she shifted slightly, her face nuzzling deeper into his chest, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

It wasn’t just the physical discomfort that kept him there—it was the softness of the moment, the way she had let herself trust him completely. She was safe in his arms, and though he could feel the weight of his own exhaustion pressing in, it didn’t matter. His heart had found a steady rhythm with hers, and no matter the discomfort, he wasn’t ready to let go of the fragile peace they’d built.

He held her to himself with one hand and using the other, he tugged down his pants kicking them away. It wasn't an easy exercise but he was able to get them off without putting her down which made it all worth it.

His raging erection had softened much to his relief. He wasn't ready to make love to her yet. His body still yearned for Nia. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed Milele's company and he had enjoyed their interaction tonight but when it came down to raw primal fucking, Nia was the one his body sought.

Glancing down at her supple sleeping form, he scoffed. There was no way she could take him, he would break her if he tried. His cock would probably go through her internal organs and come out of her mouth, successfully impaling her. He chuckled at the thought of fucking her sheath and throat at the same time but quickly sobered up at the implication of that.

As Aaron’s eyelids grew heavy and his body relaxed, a creeping thought invaded his mind. He had thought about it all morning, but now, in the stillness of the night, the weight of it pressed harder against his chest. The council meeting had been disquieting. Spies were infiltrating his kingdom, lurkers who moved through the shadows, asking probing questions about his lands, his people, and his defenses.

He had dismissed it at first, a mere rumor—nothing that hadn’t been whispered before. But now, as he lay holding Milele, the urgency of it gnawed at him. Was the long period of peace he had fought for and enjoyed truly over? Was this the beginning of something far darker?

His thoughts flickered back to the faces of his councilors, each of them uneasy, each of them aware of the signs they had been ignoring for too long. Something was coming, he could feel it in his bones. And while his mind screamed to prepare for the worst, a quiet, rational part of him wanted to believe it wasn’t true, that this was simply a momentary blip—a fleeting threat that would fade.

But the questions lingered: Was it time to prepare for war? Or had his kingdom, for all its strength, grown complacent?

As the night stretched on, the peace he had found in Milele's presence seemed fragile, fleeting. Tomorrow would bring more decisions and more uncertainty. But for now, all he could do was hold her, a brief respite before the storm.

[starry-nights-17]

Just wanted to say Happy Christmas to you all and leave this here. A short festive story, set in the canon world but sort of AU (in that Ian is living with Clayton).

*Mickey breaks into the wrong house....but maybe it was the right house after all 🤔

(Some derogatory language ahead, not mine, all Mickey!)

----

Christmas was just around the corner, meaning Terry was working them harder than normal. And by work, he meant stealing. Breaking and entering.

Mickey was the perfect burglar. Quick, quiet and small enough to squeeze through tight windows. Tonight's target, a fancy West Side house, which featured a large expensive looking tree in the front room. At the base of it, was a pile of exquisitely wrapped presents. Jackpot.

Mickey jimmied open a window at the back of the house, expertly so, given the practice he had. He crept into the connecting living room, eyes darting around and ears on high alert.

Confident that the house was vacant, considering the car that was usually parked out front was gone, he started tossing the packages into a large holdall he brought with him.

"Mickey, what the fuck"

His blue eyes blinked into the darkness, until he eventually made out a shape and spotted familiar red hair and freckles. The Gallagher kid had moved away a year back. His sister Mandy had whined about missing her BFF for weeks, droning on about how he discovered his mom's affair and that the man who raised him wasn't his real dad.

He made a run for it but the kid grabbed his arm, "I can't let you take it Mickey, not all of it anyway".

His voice was soft, those green eyes even softer, an understanding there. Gallagher picked out a few packages and held them out to him.

"Your dad's an asshole".

Mickey felt his eyebrow pull up and his face scrunch up in confusion, "What's it to you, carrot top?"

Ian, that was the kids name, chuckled and took a step back, his face lit up in amusement.

"Just know what he's like, what will happen if you return empty handed. Just take them, I can replace them tomorrow".

"This a trick, you gonna call the cops on me or something?"

"Course not, South Siders don't snitch".

Mickey gestured around and caught Ian's eye, "in case you haven't noticed freckles, we ain't in the South Side".

"Whatever, I'm still fucking South Side Mickey and more than that; I'm still a Gallagher".

Mickey nodded slowly, feeling the kid was being genuine. "Well now I really can't take this shit", he sighed and dropped his bag, "fucking tainted or whatever".

Ian laughed again, a sweet and bright sort of sound that had Mickey's lips curving up at the corners. He didn't know why he was still standing there, hovering, loitering. And at the scene of a crime, although technically he hadn't stolen anything.

"You want a beer or some hot chocolate or something, Clayton, um I mean my Dad and his wife are out, won't be back for hours".

Mickey snorted out a laugh, "you fucking serious, you like retarded or something? I just tried to rob you and now you're offering me hot chocolate?"

Ian grinned and shrugged casually, "not like I haven't stolen shit before. I get it. I know you haven't exactly got a choice Mickey. And," he paused and looked away, almost shyly, "miss the South Side I guess, don't see my family as much as I'd like. Figured you could catch me up on shit, on Mandy".

"That annoying bitch," he joked, "she's still a pain in my ass and a huge slut. There, all caught up freckles".

He turned to leave, feeling awkward now and feeling his cheeks flush with colour as the goofy kid smiled confidently back at him. It was as though he actually liked Mickey's abrupt manner or some shit.

"C'mon Mick, I'll even toss in some marshmallows. I remember you have a sweet tooth".

Mickey raised his eyebrow in a question, "the fuck you know that?"

Ian laughed and started towards what he presumed was the kitchen, "you think I didn't know about all those snickers you swiped from the store?"

Before he registered it, he was walking forward, following him, as if he was a magnet being drawn in that direction.

"You fucking stalking me or something, watching me, kinda creepy man".

His tone was easier and lighter than intended. Shit, he almost sounded like he was dangerously close to flirting.

Ian cocked his head and studied his face for a second before replying, with a wide devilish grin.

"Kinda my job Mick, to keep my eyes on you".

Mickey tried to hide an emerging smile with his hand and was forced to look away, from that intense green gaze. His skin felt electrified and he was sure his cheeks were glowing.

"Well it's not anymore, guess you don't need a job since you moved up in the world".

Ian set a large mug down in front of him, complete with mini pink and white marshmallows floating on top.

"Not so sure I did," Ian paused and seemed thoughtful, "kinda miss it, working, earning money, even miss the fucking ghetto".

Ian laughed dryly and Mickey shook his head at him in disbelief.

"I just mean it's different here, fucking boring and like dad's just trying to make up for lost time so he never yells or says no. Its weird".

"Oh poor you, shit, you don't know how lucky you have it man. Complaining like a spoilt princess about being rich and living in a place like this, where you don't get a black eye every other day".

"You think I don't hear myself Mick. Course I know I sound like a prick. I just don't feel like I belong here. I don't fit in. I don't know how to live this fucking normal life".

"Well, I'd swap places with you any day," he muttered, blowing on the hot chocolate before talking a long satisfying sip. Damn, it tasted good, like proper expensive shit, not that crappy dollar store stuff that masqueraded as "chocolate".

"I'm sorry, I know I suck. I go to a great school and have everything I want. Meanwhile the rest of the Gallaghers are still living in that shithole, with fucking Frank".

"Actually, heard he's shacked up with some rich bitch over on the North Side. Never stops bragging about it in the Alibi".

Ian laughed and shook his head, "course he is. Frank always manages to land on his feet".

"Looks like you take after him in that respect Red, even if he's not your real dad or whatever. Suck it up, you got out. You can make something of yourself. Mandy always said you were smart, so don't waste that education. Go cure cancer or whatever the fuck".

Ian settled down, sitting opposite him, as they both smiled quietly around their mugs. The situation was weird but only in how it wasn't weird, not really. Mickey felt at ease, like he was naturally able to talk with Ian, his usual shyness not present.

"Not really a science geek, believe it or not," Ian joked, an attractive smile on his face again, "more of an English Lit geek".

"You mean like books and shit. Rather you than me pal".

"Wait, you can actually read, Mickey?"

Mickey sat up straight, ready to knock the fuckers teeth down his throat. That was, until he caught sight of Ian's cocky smirk. He flipped him off and felt a smirk of his own creeping up.

"Fucking comedian over here," he muttered, "course I fucking can, dickhead. Might be a Milkovich but doesn't mean I'm a dumb fuck".

"Never thought you were," Ian replied with a gentler smile now and a fondness in his eyes. "Always figured you were smart. And, funny too".

Ians eyes darted away, his lips lowered to the mug again, his cheeks faintly pink.

"Funnier than you anyway," he teased in return, "not that it'd be hard".

"I meant it, I want to help. Don't want you getting into trouble or whatever...with Terry".

Ians eyes appeared sincere and possibly full of concern too. Mickey was surprised, wondering how this kid, who was almost a stranger to him, was genuinely worried about him returning home empty handed.

Then again, he probably witnessed Mickey's battered and bruised face on numerous occasions. Perhaps at the Kash n Grab or at the Milkovich House when he hung out there with Mandy. Likely his sister confessed some harsh home truths to her BFF too. Fuck.

"Can't take your shit Gallagher. It's fine, I'll hit some other place up on the way home".

Ian rose to his feet, taking out his wallet, offering a wad of cash to him.

"The fuck," he stood and swatted his hand away in offence, "don't want your money either; not a fucking charity case. And just cos your whore of a mother fucked some rich prick doesn't make you better than me".

Ians face grew red with anger and he stepped forward, invading his space, "don't fucking talk about her like that Mickey. I know I'm not better than you, never fucking said I was. Just don't want you getting punched in the face, or worse, by that evil psychotic prick. Fuck me, for giving a shit".

Ian shoved him and Mickey shoved him back. Both of their chests heaved up and down, both clearly emotional.

"Shit, I shouldn't have said that about your mom; not like mine was much better. Not cool. I know she had fucking problems or whatever, " he thumbed his nose, stumbling on his words, "just don't like handouts alright, I can take care of myself".

Iam nodded and his expression softened further, "I know you can take care of yourself Mick. Just nice sometimes to let other people help. Not like I can't spare some cash. Please, just let me help, let me feel like all of this," he gestured around, "means something. If it means saving that pretty face from getting another pounding, then its worth it".

Mickey's eyebrow pulled up and a sharp breath left his mouth, "did you just call me fucking....pretty....think its you thats looking for a pounding pal".

Ian smirked and approached him, head cocked to the side, his voice lowered to a whisper.

"Generally I do the pounding...but I'm always open to trying new things".

As if Ian's bold words weren't having enough of a mind-blowing affect on his body, the asshole winked (actually winked) at him.

Mickey opened and closed his mouth like a fish, rendered utterly speechless. Not only was the kid gay but he was openly flirting with Mickey, implying shit; not just about himself but about Mickey too. The giant sized balls on Ian. He was pretty impressed though, considering Mickey could easily be kicking his ass right now. Talk about a risky move.

"I uh, better go"

He mumbled and pointed vaguely in the direction of the door, "Terry...you know...fucking schedules or whatever".

Ian chuckled and stepped forward again. His hand reached out, trailing down his chest; smoothing out the creases on his shirt, and then he was stuffing something in his pocket. Before Mickey could argue, Ian was shutting him up in the most unexpected and unsettling way. By pressing his warm lips against his.

Naturally his reaction was to push him away, which he attempted to do but Ian was stronger than he looked and held his hands at the wrists. Green eyes locked on his, questioning, searching. And somehow Mickey relaxed enough to nod up and down.

There was that predatory smirk again before those lips were on his once more, firmer now, with puprose and determination. But it was a brief and tame kiss, which he was grateful for. Because if Ian tried to take it further, put his hands on him or slipped him the tongue, he wasn't quite sure what would happen. Could end up in a fuck or a fight, Mickey wasn't certain. All that he was certain of, was that his skin was on fire, his heart was thumping wildly and he was breathing harshly.

"Think of it as an advance payment...or a loan," Ian said next, waking him from his haze.

"Huh?"

"You can repay me"

"How the fuck do you expect me to pay your pampered ass back. Piss poor here, remember".

Ian laughed, once again causing an unfamiliar flutter in his chest and Mickey smiled automatically upon hearing the pleasant sound.

"There's other ways to pay me back Mick," Ian replied with a cheeky grin.

"Fuck off, you think cos you kissed me I'm some sort of prostitute...I'm not even gay man".

He almost choked on the lie and judging by Ian's amused expression he wasn't buying it either.

"If you say so. Besides, that's not what I had in mind....but now that you mention it...."

Mickey scratched his eyebrow and flipped him off, barely containing a smile.

"Fine. No sexual favours, got it, " Ian joked, his hands held up in the air, "I just meant you can pay me back by maybe hanging out with me once it a while, that's all".

"You just want me to hang out with you...and you'll basically pay me for it...the fuck is wrong with you man?".

Ian cackled and shook his head, "nothings wrong with me. I just fucking like you or whatever and I already told you; the moneys insurance, protecting that pretty face of yours".

Mickey's middle finger was raised once more while his face was busy heating up, "ok fuck, fine, i'll take the cash. But not promising you anything. You're fucking weird man, not sure how much more of you I can handle".

Ian's face lit up and he cocked his head in that boyish, mischievous way again, "pretty sure you can handle a lot Mick," he paused and hummed, "hopefully".

"The fuck," he whispered, the word coming out in a shuddery breath. "I'm outta here. Good luck with being rich now or whatever".

He waved at him, clumsily and awkwardly, before swiftly heading towards the door.

"Don't be a stranger Mickey".

He didn't even need to turn around to recognise the grin that cocky redhead was undoubtedly sporting. Ian Gallagher. Of all the houses. Of all the situations. This night had not turned out like he had expected. He paused at the door, his fingertip tracing over his bottom lip, somehow still feeling Ian's lips there. Fuck. Mickey already knew it. He needed to kiss him again.

"Whatever. See ya later, firecrotch".

❤🎁🎄🌈