#I fucking love that Grace brought herself a bottle of wine

[chippdhearts]

Christina Elmore, Melissa Benoist, Carla Gugino and Natasha Behnam AS Kimberlyn, Sadie, Grace and Lola The Girls on the Bus || 1x08

[heylittleriotact]

It’s Monday. Have a WIP.

“You’ll never believe the conversation I just had with Halsin.”

Astarion tilted his head to look sidelong at Echo. Her cheeks were flushed and she wore that wrinkly-nosed, squinty-eyed half-snarl of a smile that only graced her face after she had more than a few drinks. When his eyes met hers, she looked away shyly, giggling some more before taking a drink from the open bottle of wine she’d brought along with her - likely her third tonight by his reckoning.

He wasn’t sure why Echo suddenly seemed determined to drink herself sick, but if he had to guess he’d wager nerves about returning to the city might have something to do with it. Or the revelation that the Absolute was an Elder Brain being controlled by the faithful of Bhaal, Bane, and Myrkul. That would be just cause for anyone to drown their sorrows…

“Well?” She prompted. “Aren’t you going to ask?” She waved the bottle of wine through the air.

Astarion laughed despite himself: he had been dreading this conversation in all honesty, but he knew it was coming based on the way he’d seen Halsin’s eyes lingering on Echo longer than the eyes of anyone who would call themselves a friend would when she wasn’t paying attention.

Astarion knew desire when he saw it, and it was plain to see that the druid desired her.

“I was wondering when you were going to ask me about this.”

Her giddy smile spread, “Well I only just spoke with Halsin and –” Her eyes widened. “You knew?!”

Why is she so drunk?

“I guessed.” He teased. “The man can’t stay quiet about ‘enjoying the freedom of nature’s gifts’ –” He paused when Echo’s drunken giggles gave way to proper laughter at his impression of the druid. He watched her with a wry smile on his face as she collapsed inwards, clutching her sides: drunk or not, he loved bringing her the simple joy of a good laugh… “ – He’d probably outlaw clothing if he could.” He added, tenderly wiping away a tear that had rolled down her cheek before looking away from her and back to the looming outline of the city on the horizon, black against its backdrop of stars.

Her laughter subsided and he felt her hand - so warm and alive - on his.

“You… you know I’m not interested, right?” She panted, her voice becoming serious.

“Please darling - who wouldn’t be?” He scoffed before he could stop himself. “I’m happy for you to have as much Halsin as you wish… but I do have one question…”

Just one. The one that had been knocking around his brain since Echo had told him that she’d seen fit to disclose her fear of being with child to Halsin.

Only one question.

One that he needed an answer to for his own sanity if nothing else…

He drummed his fingernails against the slate floor of the ruin nervously as he urged himself to ask dammit.

“It’s not because… you know… we haven’t… in a while?”

Echo’s tanned face flushed deeper in the darkness and Astarion immediately wished he could take it back: how pathetic was he? Unable to have a consummate relationship with his lover because of the fucking albatross around his neck, meanwhile others were queuing up to give her what he could not. And yet he had the audacity to feel like less because the lover that he loved so much might feel compelled to look for intimacy elsewhere because of his shortcomings.

There was no denying that Echo was a woman of appetites, and it shamed him deeply that he could not satisfy them. Not right now… maybe not ever…

“Oh! Gods no! No-no-no-no-no… ahh… fuck.” She occupied herself with another swig of wine and drew her lower lip through her teeth and he wondered idly if she had any idea what that absent-minded mannerism did to him. “Ask me if I want to fuck.”

“What?”

“Ask.”

Confused, but ever willing to humor his warlock and the abstract workings of her mind, Astarion ventured, “Would… would you like to fuck, darling?” He grimaced: the words felt forced, inauthentic and foreign to him.

“No thank you.” Was her curt and immediate response. “I don’t feel like it right now. Do you want to fuck?” She looked at him expectantly.

He felt the tips of his ears heat only as much as her blood let them. Of course he wanted her. He always wanted her, but… not right now. Not when they were sitting on Cazador’s front porch, closer to his old master and his fate than he had been in weeks…

“Um… no. Not really…”

He felt his muscles tense as he reflexively braced himself for cruelties that never came.

“We’re on the same page then.” Echo slurred happily, gesturing with the wine bottle again. “I’m not in the mood, you’re not in the mood. I see no reason at all why we’d want to get a bear involved on top of that…” Her brow furrowed and she tipped back the bottle once more. “Do I fucking look like someone who’s capable of juggling multiple lovers? I can barely keep my own fucking head on straight most days...” She snorted, swaying a little at the waist despite her seat on the ground. “Besides…” She looked at him, eyes glassy and straining to focus on him. “I’d say you keep me busy enough as it is, and as fate would have it… I’d prefer to lavish all my affections selfishly on you.” She tweaked the tip of his nose with her finger and her lips parted in a smile. She hiccuped and Astarion’s heart felt so warm that it might as well start beating again.

“Agh!”

She had thrown her arms around him along with most of her weight.

“I love you.” She murmured drunkenly, and he held her tighter - partly out of affection and partly because if Echo forgot herself and leaned back there was nothing stopping her from plummeting off the side of the ruined outpost they were occupying. “I love you.” She repeated. “And while it’s very, very nice to know that I’ve still got it, I – huh – I don’t want anyone else: I want you.” She leaned back on her knees and pointed at him and Astarion maintained his grip on her free wrist. “Yup. I want you. And your… your fluffy morning hair, and your tasteless jokes…” She stared at him through half-lidded eyes, punchdrunk and grinning. “... and your pretty hands, and the way you say the word ‘propensity’.” She lurched forward suddenly, her boozy breath washing over his face. “Say it.” She whispered.

“Propensity.”

“Mmmm…” She closed her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispered and swayed again, her weight tipping backwards and her eyes going wide at the realization of nothingness behind her.

“Let’s try not to fall to our death again, shall we?” Astarion pulled her forward and collected her against his chest. He kissed the top of her head. “I love you too.”

“Thank fuck for that.” She sighed into him, her voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt.

[nikethestatue]

La Dolce Vita

Part II

On the Wings of Desire

Warnings: Language

(I had to split this chapter into two because it was getting too long. Hence, no sexy times, but angst galore) Comments and reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Let me know what you think. 

Chapter One is here

Two Years Ago

 Azriel

 Azriel pulled up to the flower shop.

There was a surprise that he wanted to share with Elain, and like a young boy on his first date, he was both excited and nervous. But he hoped that she’d like it. Funny how he still got a little nervous with her, exuberant even.

It’s been three months since they’ve met and he loved every minute that they’d spent together. The nature of their relationship was a little undefined, but he didn’t care. So what if they weren’t ‘dating’? So there weren’t official dinners and outings, to show only the best part of each other to one another? They moved beyond that right away. They simply loved being together. It was inexplicable, how quickly it happened, how easy it was between the two of them, but Azriel could never get enough of Elain.

He came to her shop whenever he wanted, helped her out, hung out with her, and she went to the garage to meet him. If he was busy and couldn’t meet with her, she closed her shop for lunch, and brought him a sandwich, so they could eat together. He loved it, even if he actually had a restaurant and a bar on premises and she technically didn’t need to buy him food. But there was something special about her coming up the stairs to his office, dressed in one of her cute, flowery dresses and heels. Every time it was a different sandwich, a different drink and a different snack—sometimes a cookie, or good chocolate, or weird chips, or a full-on pastry with cream and ganache and whatnot. He developed a strange fascination with his lunch options, never knowing what it would be and eagerly anticipating it.

Sometimes, he took her on long rides—one of their favourite past times. If he knew that she was up to her eyeballs with orders, since this was summer and it seemed like everyone was getting married, he would bring her takeout to the shop, and they’d sit and arrange flowers until the wee hours. When things calmed down, and there was a quiet evening ahead, she usually invited him to come and eat at her place. They cooked together, drank wine, and then went for a walk.

They haven’t had a kiss yet.

Did it bother him? He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t dream of Elain all the time, of her supple, soft body, of how she’d look naked, of how she’d feel when he filled her, what sounds she’d make, what her face would look like when she climaxed around him? Was she a screamer? A beggar? Was she loud or quiet and shy?

She never spoke of her past boyfriends, so he had no idea of how many men she’s been with. Secretly, he hoped that it wasn’t too many. Maybe it was some male thing, but the idea of her with another man, the thought of someone else touching her, making her moan, making her love—it didn’t please him at all. He thought that he was more modern, more advanced in his thinking—and usually he was—but in this case, he was struggling with accepting Elain wrapped around some other male.

 Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t even 6 pm yet, the flowers that usually spilled outside the shop were not gracing the pavement and the shop looked closed for the day. But Azriel went and knocked on the glass door anyway, seeing as there was some light coming from Elain’s office in the back. There was no response, but he knocked even harder, almost banging, until he heard Elain’s muffled voice yelling, “we are closed!”

“Laney, open up! It’s me!”

A few moments later, Elain appeared in the darkness and then the door opened.

And his jaw almost dropped.

She stood in front of him, wearing a slinky, satin, cobalt dress that looked almost like lingerie. Of modest length, it nevertheless emphasized her breasts very enticingly: soft and full, and pushed together just enough to create a hint of delicious cleavage. A simple set of glittering silver chains nestled seductively in that yummy valley between her breasts. One bare foot was clad in a strappy silver sandal, while she held the other, and jumped awkwardly on one foot, balancing herself on the doorframe. Her hair was curled and arranged over one naked shoulder.

He struggled to keep his breath from whooshing loudly.

“Whoa…”

“Hi Az,” she sounded…uncomfortable.

“Hey you. Hot date?” he chuckled, eyes gliding from her pretty toes up to her eyes.

Her throat bobbed and she didn’t answer.

Shit.

He fought the urge to cross his arms on his chest. But then he’d look threatening, towering over her, much like his father did when he was in one of his moods. Azriel swore to himself long ago to never, ever cross his arms with women.

“I didn’t think you’d be coming over,” she began, voice wobbling.

“So, you figured that you could sneak out?” he spat unkindly.

“I am not sneaking out!” she snapped, flushed and defiant. “I am going out,”

“With whom?” he demanded.

He and Elain had never fought. Never even disagreed.

They laughed together. They joked and discussed. They argued over books and movies. They talked about design, food and travel, places they wanted to visit, and things they wanted to see. Elain randomly texted him names of 3 and 2 Michelin star restaurants from all over the world, telling him where she wanted to dine, why, and eagerly opining on the menus.

Elain was his.

His little foodie, who was a fearless eater, and sampled just about everything and anything.

Elain was his.

His little art lover, who had a surprisingly wide breadth of knowledge of painting, art history and strong opinions on artists and styles. When he found out that she adored Balthus and that Egon Schiele was her favourite artist of all time, his respect for her only increased.

Elain was his.

His little intellectual, who read Anna Akhmatova’s poetry, listened to Alain Elkann’s podcast, and who could easily talk about the history of Lamborghini or Aston Martin, and Formula 1, just to satisfy him.

What the fuck was this?

Why was his Elain going on some date with another man?

Anger rose in him so quickly; he had a difficult time stopping his hands from shaking. So, he clasped them behind his back.

“It’s none of your business,” she said coldly. “I don’t have to report to you who I am going out with,”

“You don’t?” he demanded absurdly.

“No, I don’t!”

“Please tell me who he is?” he decided on a different approach. His brain was working furiously, trying to dissuade her, yet not anger her, yet find out as much information as possible.

“No!” she shook her head stubbornly. “Why do you even care?”

Why did he care? WHY did he care?

He couldn’t have been misreading all the signs. He couldn’t have been misreading her interest, her acceptance, her want.

There was no doubt in his mind that she wanted him—emotionally, as a friend, as a partner, as a lover. Reading people was his job, his calling, and he’d never been wrong. He certainly wasn’t wrong with Elain—she was an open book to him. He didn’t need to evaluate her reactions to his company to know that she was absolutely enthralled with him.

So why this?

Was it something he did? There were no hints of anything amiss the last time they’d seen each other. They were at her place, they cooked Italian together—spaghetti and clams—and he opened a bottle of Petilia Greco di Tufo, a pure, harmonious white from Campania. Then they went to the rooftop—their favourite place—and watched the city, enjoying gelato and playing cards.

Squeezing his hands behind his back, he demanded, “Has he been vetted?”

“Vetted? Vetted?” she exclaimed incredulously. “Who is going to be doing this vetting?”

She stared at him and bit out,

“I don’t like this side of you. This is crazy behaviour,”

“Why? Because you are going on a date? Suddenly. Unexpectedly.”

At that, she blushed furiously, squirming under his heavy, icy gaze.

He continued, “And with some guy you refuse to tell me anything about. Have you told Cass?”

“What? What exactly is Cass? My father?”

“Cass runs security for,”

“I know what Cass does!” she cried, looking furious, but also uncomfortable. Insecure. Anxious. “But I am not telling him. Leave me alone. I am not telling anyone,”

“Not even Nesta? Elide?” he demanded. “And what if something happens?”

“What’s going to happen?!” she asked nervously.

Nothing.

Probably nothing.

He was being an overbearing creep, but he couldn’t stop.

He needed to know. And yes, he wanted her to be safe.

“Who knows?” he shrugged menacingly. “He is unvetted. No one knows anything about him. Have you even Googled him?”

She blushed.

That’s a no.

“Unless you tell me his name, I am not leaving,” he warned. “I need to know who you are going to be with.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he propped himself against the door. “We’ll just stand here.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

The standoff continued for another few minutes, until, exasperated, she blurted,

“His name is Dorian!”

“Dorian. As in Dorian Gray?”

She rolled her eyes. “How funny.”

He took out his phone and asked, “Does Dorian have a last name?”

“Are you seriously going to Google him?”

“Absolutely I will. Since you didn’t.”

“I am not telling you.”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “I’ll await Dorian’s arrival and have a man-to-man talk with him,”

She paled.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me.”

She glared at him, and then sneered, “Why don’t you invite Lorcan too! And Rowan. So the three of you can stand here, in your freaky silent vigil and glare at him, to scare him off.”

“Good idea.”

She shrugged, “And when Dorian comes here, you three can tower over him.”

“Why? Is he tiny?” Azriel snorted.

She rolled her eyes and then thrust her foot into her other heel, finally. As she tied it around her ankle, she muttered angrily, “so disappointed in you,”

“Get in line,” he snapped.

“Adarlan,”

“What?”

“His last name is Adarlan.”

Azriel immediately typed the name into the phone.

A pretty white boy. Columbia. Pre-law.

Figures.

Of course, someone like that would want someone like Elain. And she’d want him in return. Pretty, proper. Pathetic.

“Satisfied?” she rose to her full height. Her cheeks were flushed, brown eyes gleaming with anger and challenge.

She was so beautiful and so annoyed with him, Azriel was blinded by her, by her light, her spirit.

“Not for a while,” he said blandly and shrugged.

That made her redden. Not the blush of anger. Her sexy blush.

So, he went for it.

“Call it off,” he begged.

“What?”

“Call it off. Please.”

“Why?”

Because you are mine.

He wanted to tell her. To explain.

But did he deserve her? All that light and goodness? Perhaps, pretty boy Dorian was indeed more appropriate.

“Because,” he began and then heard a car pull up behind him.

Steps.

He didn’t turn around.

“Elain.”

“Dorian.”

Her face lit up with a smile.

“Ready?”

She nodded. “Just let me grab my bag.”

When she disappeared, Azriel turned around at last.

Dorian was good looking, tall, thin. Young. Looked like a kid, though Azriel figured that he wasn’t much younger than him. But Azriel’s lived about 540 years by now…at least that’s how it felt, and Dorian—Dorian probably had many girlfriends, many friends, and daddy’s money.

He was about as interesting as a bag of beans.

They stared at each other.

Azriel didn’t give a shit.

He didn’t care about anything, other than this is what Elain chose. This Dorian may end up holding Elain’s hand. Perhaps going in for a kiss. That sensuous weak mouth may touch Elain’s perfect lips—the lips that Azriel only dreamt of kissing. And what if it went further?

What if,

No.

No.

Elain was not a ‘first date sex’ kind of girl. Never. Not his Elain.

“Treat her well,” he growled a warning.

Dorian blinked.

“What?”

“Treat. Elain. Well.”

“Who are you?”

“Consider me her brother-in-law.”

“Oh. Okay. Alright. Sure, man. Yeah.”

Fucking intellectual powerhouse.

“I am one of many,”

“Many what?” Dorian asked in confusion.

“Many brothers-in-law. And they all look like me. Some are even bigger.”

“Ready?!” Elain chirped.

“Um, yeah,” Dorian’s eyes darted back and forth.

Azriel finally gave up and crossed his arms on his chest.

“Have fun you two,” he said sweetly.

“Thank you. I’ll see you at Rhys’s pool party on Saturday,” Elain acted like everything was normal.

“Sure. Bring Dorian along,” Azriel jerked his chin. “We’ll be delighted to have him.”

 Elain

 “He is a charmer,” Dorian finally exhaled once they were inside the car.

She grunted in response.

“Does he have enough tattoos?” he started to reverse. “Oh, look, a Ferrari,”

“It’s his,” she bit the inside of her cheek, glancing quickly at the unmoving figure under the awning.

“His? What is he? A drug dealer?”

“Dorian!” she snapped. She was so on edge, she sat on her shaking hands the moment she buckled up.

“Sorry. Sorry. But really, do you want me to,”

She interrupted,

“What? Are you offering to beat him up?”

“I mean,”

“Dorian. He is a Navy Seal,” she said bluntly. “His bicep is the circumference of my head. His buddies are all pushing 6”7 in height and are all former Navy Seals. I am just saying. You aren’t taking him on.”

Dorian didn’t feel the need to disagree.

 Azriel

 Elain was his home. She was his happy place. His joy.

Her smile made everything better.

When she touched him--his fingers, his cheek—that touch carried more sensual promise than anything he’d ever experienced. And he’d experienced plenty.

Azriel’s only brush with love was when he was 18 and it was right before Morgana fucked Cassian, lost her virginity to him and got pregnant by him. He wondered if that’s what fucked him up, turned him off love for this past decade. Ploughing through endless bodies felt good, though he was usually left with the feeling of residual emptiness and longing. But he accepted it.

Elain though. He didn’t plough into Elain. Never even so much as seen her breast. And yet, his head was filled with her. Images, both erotic and mundane floated through his brain constantly. Elain’s eyes lighting up when he called her ‘baby’. Elain tasting a pastry, in her own special way, sometimes dipping her finger into the cream, and driving him wild. Elain reclining her golden head on the seat of his car, eyes closed. Elain being a little drill master when it came to arranging flowers, absolutely unperturbed by the idea of ordering Rowan and Cassian and Fen around.

That Elain was offering her smile, her time, her attention to that pretty prick Dorian was just intolerable.

If he could, he would actually climb the walls. But Azriel couldn’t climb walls, even if parkour-loving Fenrys would probably teach him how. Therefore, he went back to the shop, where Nuala was just packing up for the day.

“I need your car,” he demanded.

“We are in a garage,” she reminded him reasonably, but nevertheless tossed her keys to him. He caught them with one hand and said, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me like fifty…but who is counting?”

Nuala didn’t know why he needed her car, but she did know that he was beyond pining, at this point. He was in full love mode. As in LOVE. Capital letters, heart palpitations, sleepless nights, acting-like-a-drug-addict LOVE. Who would have thought? Not only that Azriel would fall in love at all, but that it would be with Elain.

Azriel got into Nuala’s ordinary Acura, drove to Elain’s apartment, and kept vigil the very same way she told him he would.

At this point, he didn’t care at all. He sat and waited in his shadows. Waiting like this—he learned this level of patience back in the Navy, during his recon missions—suited him, and his personality. Lorcan and he could sit like this for hours. Days. They weren’t bothered at all. Cassian and Fenrys would whine, complain and bounce like little children.

Shadows were his friends, as they’d always been, since he was a boy and hid from his abusive father. They protected him then, and concealed him now.

Finally, at an acceptable, and slightly boring, 11:23 pm, Dorian’s generic Audi pulled up.

There was no way that either of them would spot him, or assume that he was around.

Dorian opened the door for Elain, and she stepped out. They talked. She smiled. Then laughed.

It all grated on Azriel’s nerves. Go inside! He wanted to shout to her.

Then, Dorian made a move. Azriel tensed, when the pretty boy reached his hand out and ran his knuckles over Elain’s bare shoulder. The hand stopped entirely too close to her breast, as he squeezed her upper arm, holding her close. If Azriel sensed even the tiniest expression of discomfort from her, he’d be flying out of the car in a snap.

They talked some more, that gross hand still resting on Elain’s arm. But then, she opened her arms and Azriel grimaced. No way. No way was she going for a kiss.

And thank all the gods above, but she only hugged him, and not a close hug either—but that awkward, butts-out, shoulders pressed together weird hug. Something males typically gave each other, so careful to avoid any penile interaction. Then she walked to her building and gave Dorian a little wave. He hopped in his car and drove away.

What a prick. Didn’t even wait for her to get inside.

But she stood still, door unopened, keys in her fingers. And then, she peered into the darkness. A long, penetrating gaze. Aimed right at him. Like she saw through the shadows. She looked and looked, and he melted in the shadows, into the darkness of the car.

And then she flipped him off, and walked inside.

 Elain

 Piled into Lorcan’s Range Rover, it was Elain ad Elide, Lorcan and Connall in the car.

It was a nice day for a pool party, for a long drive to the Hamptons, for enjoying the sunshine.

Elain was having none of it.

She hated this idea to begin with—pool parties—which were full of too-rich and affected young people, prancing around in skimpy underwear. The women too perfect. The men, full of unreasonable expectations.

Feyre and Morrigan liked this crap, Cassian too, Aelin—certainly.

All the people with their perfect bodies and big hair and bigger personalities.

This Range Rover was like the car for outcasts.

Lorcan looked like he wanted to be at a pool party as much as he wanted to have a rectal exam. Connall, she was sure, would just sit by the bar and nurse drinks all day long. Elide would always find an escape with Lor, and the two of them would huddle together and make snide comments about the attendees to each other.

Elain sighed.

She was such a stupid, inexcusably dumb, fucking idiot.

“Do you know why Az isn’t coming today?” Lorcan looked at her in the mirror.

“Oh?”

She bit inside of her cheek, stifling a pathetic cry.

It shouldn’t have surprised her that Azriel decided not to attend, but she still harbored hope, somewhere inside of her that he would. That they’d be able to talk. That he’d…

Forgive her?

“No, I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Did you have a fight or something?” Lorcan’s strange black eyes looked at her like they were scraping the edges of her soul. It wasn’t the most comfortable of feelings.

“No.”

She spent the rest of the trip in sullen silence. Even Elide didn’t try to shake her out of her stupor.

 As expected, the party was ridiculously over the top.

There were throngs of people milling about, all in various stages of undress. Firm, golden flesh gleamed in the sunlight.

There were three bars—one for beer, one for cocktails and one for everything else. An ice cream station. A s’mores station. Wagyu beef sliders. Lobster hot dogs. Jamon Iberico. Wheels of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Deep down, Elain was grateful that she’d never be this wealthy.

She was happy with her flowers, her shop, and she was considering opening a pastry shop down the road. And then Azriel had his wonderful garage, but successful as it was, it wasn’t on the Darling level of wealth…And that was alright. It was perfectly enough, too much even,

She stopped.

She should’ve just told him. Everything. A long time ago. But the intensity of her own feelings towards him frightened her, and then…she fucked it all up.

She meandered absently around the premises, listening to Feyre’s and Nesta’s screeching from the pool, where both were perched on the shoulders of their respective lovers, whacking each other and others with long plastic poles. Mor and her new girlfriend were making out passionately in a hammock. Fenrys was swarmed by a bevy of busty beauties. And so on…

She was feeling foolish and exposed in her pink bikini, wishing she had a wrap or something. Her body was no worse than all of these other girls’, but she couldn’t help but compare herself to them. They were confident. Exciting. Entertaining. They flirted and laughed loudly. They had sparkly teeth and giant lips.

She didn’t know how to flirt, and wasn’t glamorous or polished like them.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone? Without a drink?”

A man sidled over, his bold eyes roaming about her body, assessing.

“I am fine, thank you,” she made to get away and walk towards the pool, but he thrust an insistent hand in front of her, holding a drink.

“Come on, sugar. Join me.”

Sugar?

And then, there were four of them. Five.

None were threatening, but being surrounded by so many men, while basically naked was outside of Elain’s comfort zone. They were joking, laughing, chugging their beers. She didn’t know any of them.

“So, who are you?” asked one of them.

“A guest.”

She angled her body towards the pool, trying to sneak past them.

“A guest? We are guests too! Nice party,”

“It is. Pardon me, I have to go,”

“But why?”

One of them caught her hand in his and pulled lightly, grounding her in place.

“Excuse me!” she attempted to withdraw her hand, but he didn’t budge. They herded her a little closer to the house. A sixth man approached, carrying a little tray with tequila shots.

“Where do you got to go, baby?”

Another hand slipped down her back and brushed over her butt, making her jerk.

“What the hell?” she hissed, but her indignation was met with amused smiles.

“Such a pretty girl, all alone. Come, join us,”

“I am not alone!” she snapped angrily.

“Oh no?”

“And who are you with?”

“My fucking boyfriend!” she lied, a little scared now.

“Oh, a boyfriend?” teased one. “And who might that be?”

“Do we know this boyfriend? Where is he?”

She looked around desperately, and then lied again, “He is inside. And coming back, soon.”

Laughter.

“Ohh, I don’t think so. I’ve been watching you for an hour, and there is no boyfriend.”

“I think I need to go,”

“But why!?!”

They goaded, “Tell us about the boyfriend?”

“His name is Azriel Bagarat,” she blurted out.

More laughter. Challenging, condescending laughter.

“Really?”

“Mr. Fancy Garage is your boyfriend?”

“Good one! I almost fell for it.”

“Azriel Bagarat-I-date-a-new-girl-weekly makes for a bad boyfriend, honey,”

“You aren’t exactly his type.”

Tears threatened to pour out of her eyes, and she was horrified by her body’s reaction to the taunting.

She threw, “and what type is that?”

“He doesn’t go for squeaky clean girls like you.”

“Maybe it’s an experiment!” laughed one of them. “He is into all sorts of fucking kink. Maybe he is wetting his cock in some virgin flesh,”

“Are you even legal?”

“You look awfully young.”

At this point, Elain was not above screaming for Lorcan, or Rowan, or anyone else. Her looking weak and pathetic was the least of her concerns.

For a moment, the teasing and the laughter died down. One of them exclaimed, “Oh hey. There you are!”

Fuck. Another one.

The scent hit her first. The sharp, intoxicating smell of his expensive Armani cologne. She’d recognize it anywhere. That hint of cedar and a chilled night air. That was him. Her home.

And then, the familiar dark arm slipped across her stomach, tugging her firmly to his front. Another hand slid to her throat, laying on it, but not squeezing. He held her tenderly, close to him, possessively.

“I missed my girl,” he whispered, his gravelly, husky voice so familiar to her ear it sent a shiver down her spine.

Why couldn’t it be like this forever? Her in his arms? Forever?

“My gorgeous girlfriend always brings all the boys to the yard,” he chuckled. And then, to Elain’s utter delight and pleasure, he placed a warm, open mouthed kiss on the side of her neck.

She shuddered.

He’d never kissed her. Never intimately. Never kissed her like this.

His. She was his. And he just marked his territory.

It was glorious. To be kissed by him was something that she’d dreamt of and here it was—unexpected, sensuous, surprisingly erotic.

His thumb stroked the side of her throat, and then he leaned in and kissed her again. Same spot. Her bare vulnerable throat, her pale neck, his for the taking. She had no control of the situation, and she loved it.

“Thank you for keeping my girlfriend company, gentlemen, but I’ll take it from here.”

Not so brave anymore, in the face of this towering mass of muscle and tattoos, the men sheepishly offered him a shot, which he knocked back and then even attempted to high-five him, though he drew the line at that.

As they scampered away, Azriel did not release Elain from his embrace. She just stood there, with his arm around her, her body pressed into his almost-naked body and all she wanted was to turn around and peek. Or have him kissed her again. She really, really wanted him to kiss her again.

He did not though.

Finally, his arm fell away and he stepped back, causing a sorrowful sigh to erupt in her chest.

She turned around. His face was unreadable, as always, and though she picked out his little tells and signs of emotions now, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thank you,” was all she could mutter. He didn’t answer. “I didn’t think you were coming,”

“No need to talk,” he cut her off. Then turned around and added, “feel free to leave with Lorcan or Cass.”

He was walking away when she called out, “Wait. Az. I want to talk. Please,”

“No,” he said simply.

She ran after him, trying to keep up with his long stride.

“Az, please, I need to,”

“It’s Azriel to you,” he corrected bluntly. “You don’t get to ‘Az’ me,”

She swallowed, tears stinging her eyes.

“Okay…okay,” she begged. “Azriel, I want to explain, please,”

“You don’t always get what you want,” he threw back.

She paused, but then added,

“But sometimes, you get what you need.”

A tiny smile twitched on his lips. But he schooled his face into neutrality and without turning to her, said,

“If you must tag along for the rest of the day, pretending like you are my girlfriend, it’s up to you,” he shrugged indifferently.

She didn’t care. At least he didn’t send her away. At least, she could be near him, and with time, she’d thaw his anger.

She followed him silently, like dog. Trying to be inconspicuous, but she stayed at his side, even if they didn’t talk and he continuously ignored her. It allowed her time to ogle his incredible body, which she did with relish and without shame. If he was going to be nasty to her, she at least would feast her eyes on all that muscular gorgeousness. Those Cadre men—they were all stunning, at least when it came to their physiques. Azriel, though, was a little more stunning than the others. Only Fenrys, perhaps, was at the same level of attractiveness.

They went to the bar and she followed him faithfully, not letting him out of her sight. He glanced at her, sighed, shaking his head with annoyance, but Azriel being Azriel, he ordered her a mojito, while he drank Sipsmith London Gin and tonic, and after a while, thrust the drink in her hand and muttered, “I am going swimming.”

She took it and sat on a chair, stiff-backed and patient, watching him.

When he emerged from the water, she was waiting for him with a fresh drink.

“Your tattoos look like wings.”

He rubbed a towel over the black and blue tattoos on his shoulders and arms and looked at her.

“Your tattoos,” she said again, watching his wet body and the markings on it come alive on his skin. When he was in the pool, and his arms rose and fell in the water, they looked like wings. “They look like wings. Bat wings.”

“Is that a compliment?” his voice was still cold, bored.

“Yes.”

She handed him his drink and then took his scarred hand in hers. He made to pull away, but she squeezed.

“You are my boyfriend,” she reminded him. “Would be strange if you didn’t want to hold my hand.”

He had no choice but to grip her hand back,

and fuck if it didn’t feel nice.

Two days, and he was going nuts without that little hand. Two days, and he’d missed her touch like it was his life’s necessity.

And then, she gently rubbed her thumb over his own.

“Stop that,” he ordered.

“No,” she said flatly.

“Elain,”

“Azriel,”

“It’s not going to work,” he warned.

She shrugged, “we’ll see.”

They took a few more steps, her thumb still stroking his fingers, and then he stopped abruptly.

“What do you want?”

She looked up at him and said, voice surprisingly firm, “I want to get into your car and drive home with you. I want to cook you dinner. I want to hold your hand. That’s what I want.”

“And what do I want?”

“You want the same thing,” she assured him, unusual confidence in her voice and on her face.

He watched her, unblinking, but she did not balk from his assessing gaze, did not step back. She just clutched his hand like life depended on it. His jowls twitched and he bit his lip, before says, “go and put some clothes on. We are going home.”

“No. Come with me,” she tugged him with her. “I don’t trust you.”

He smiled, at last, and her heart fluttered with joy at the sight of that magical smile.

They found their clothes, threw them atop the bathing suits and as soon as they were dressed, Azriel took her by the hand and led her out to the parking lawn. It was a Maserati Ghibli today, beautifully embellished with subtle pinstripes. No one would dare do this to their 90K car, but Azriel did. And it looked stunning.  

 The drive wasn’t comfortable.

He still wasn’t speaking to her and she just sat there, for an hour or more, in silence, hands on her lap.

Finally, once they began approaching the city, Elain asked, “where are you taking me?”

“Home,” was all he said, his first word since they got in the car.

She thought and said, “I don’t want to go home.”

His voice mocking and obsequious, he asked, “Please tell me, Elain, where should your personal Uber take you? Would you like a coffee? A snack? A walk in the park? A trip to the library? Should I deliver you into Dorian’s loving embrace?”

“Stop it,” she snapped at him, all red and angry. “Stop with all that!”

Azriel plowed forth, ignoring her command, “where was he today, by the way? Why was I stuck rescuing the damsel in distress? Where is brave Dorian?”

“Nobody asked you to rescue me!” she lied, suddenly realizing that maybe, that kiss meant nothing to him. That it was all for show.

“Yeah, you looked like you were handling that situation very well,” he decided dryly.

“You know,” she folded her arms on her chest, “do take me home.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Once they entered the city proper, Azriel fought the traffic aggressively, swearing under his breath more frequently than usual, obviously intend on getting rid of her as soon as possible.

She didn’t know what to do. She couldn’t break through. Couldn’t get to him, not around the walls that he’d constructed around himself. She thought that she could, but she was wrong.

Finally, they were coming towards her block.

The silence was stifling. Unbearable.

“Why did you do it?” he blurted suddenly.

She looked at him, but before she could offer any explanations or excuses, he continued, not looking at her, “Was I not enough? Was he better?”

“He is nothing,” she managed, desperation tinging her voice, her whole being. She reached out to touch him, but he jerked his arm away.

“Don’t,” he warned. “Nothing? Why would you do this, Elain? Was I not enough? Too weird? Too brown? Too low-born? Too fucked up?”

Elain stared at him in horror. She was numb. Words failed her.

He was shaking his head.

There was true sadness, dejection written on his face. Devastation.

“I was falling in love with you, Elain,” he said so softly, she barely heard the words. “For three months, I’ve been falling in love with you. I’ve loved everything about you. I knew that the hammer would drop…One day, it would drop because it’s not like this could ever be,” he made a wide gesture with his hand.

He stopped the car next to her house.

“But I thought that it would be me. That I’d fuck up somehow and you’d dump me. Which would be…expected…”

He sighed, his breath so ragged it sounded like a sob.

“But I didn’t expect this. Truly. Though looking back, I don’t know why I didn’t?” he shrugged. “That’s what Mor did—the only other one I thought that I loved. But we were young and stupid, so…” he was looking out the window, seemingly talking to himself, not to her anymore. “But now I am almost thirty and for once, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this one time, I’d get what I want.”

Elain was weeping silently, fat tears pouring onto her hands, dripping off her face.

“I wanted you more than anything, Elain.”

Elain. Elain. Elain.

She hated that he called her Elain.

She hated that he didn’t use his usual endearments with her, that she was no longer his ‘baby’ nor his ‘love’. She wasn’t his ‘gorgeous’ or his ‘beautiful’. She was just Elain.

There was no warmth in his voice. Only some kind of hollowed emptiness, instead of the usual teasing smirk, the undercurrent of humour and love, of tender softness that he always used with her. Only with her.

“You can have me,” she managed finally through her sobs. “You can ha--…”

He finally turned his head and looked at her, that gaze dark and pitiless.

“I am not sure I want you anymore. We’ll coordinate the wedding situation and we’ll be civil to each other, for Feyre and Rhys’s sakes. Goodbye Elain.”

She sat there. He waited. Then, with a groan, he got out and went to open the door for her.

As she stepped out of the car, she begged one more time, “Azriel. Please. Please just allow me the opportunity to talk to you,” she wiped her face, with her fist.

It destroyed him completely.

He didn’t know what to do with himself, as he tracked her movement, that childish, simple, raw flick of her fist over her eyes. It wasn’t the modelled, reserved, dab-the-eye practiced move that you saw on reality shows, the fake tears, the faux sadness.

This was Elain; sorrowful, devastated, begging.

“Please,” she pleaded again.

“I asked you to call it off,” he reminded her. “I begged you. You didn’t.”

She choked on a sob.

“You threw it in my face, Elain. This random man, whom you also led on, by the way. Led him believe that you were interested. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am too old for this…Allow me the opportunity to just deal with this break up—or whatever it is—however I can. We both need to move on.”

He’d never left a crying woman on a sidewalk.

But he’d also never been in love before. And his heart had never been broken like this.

 ********************

 Azriel

 Nuala Gennaro has been trying to reach her boss for three days, to no avail.

He didn’t respond to texts, or to calls. He didn’t show up to work. He wasn’t at the garage, at the tattoo shop, or his design studio. He didn’t seem to be home either, because she drove by his loft a few times and the windows remained dark.

She had keys to his house, but that was a violation of privacy that she didn’t feel like engaging in just yet. Was this an emergency? He gave her the key for ‘emergencies’. Was this one? A healthy, 29-year-old handsome man disappearing for three days didn’t seem like an emergency, but still, Nuala was concerned.

She was going to give him one more day, and if he was still AWOL then she’d begin to worry.

Azriel was responsible. Whatever was happening in his life typically did not reflect on his work ethic. Besides, he was usually so guarded and seemingly unemotional, it was hard to say if he was affected by anything. Nuala had met him in high school—a beautiful, quiet, mysterious boy who looked like a fallen angel and who seemed unusually confident and astute for his age.

They reconnected after he and his brothers returned from the Navy. He was darker and quieter than she remembered, and hardened in his manner and bearing, and had a haunted look in his eyes which worried Nuala for quite some time. She’d been apprenticing as a tattoo artist and they’d met to discuss her joining his venture. She wasn’t sure if this whole garage/restaurant/tattoo parlour for rich people thing was going to be feasible or even realistic, but Azriel believed in the concept and somehow, got her enflamed by his passion as well. They’d slept together over the years, but even if she would have wanted more, he wasn’t willing to give it to her. Azriel went through women with the determination to conquer, mild interest and lack of follow up. But he never gave any of himself to them. Pleasure—yes. Self—no. So, Nuala had decided—staying with him and in his life, in his business, as his protégé and associate was more important than having him as a lover, even if he was by far the best lover she’d ever had.

The only thing that did seem to affect him—deeply, powerfully—was Elain Archeron.

Nuala didn’t think that it would happen. Didn’t think that Azriel was a man to fall in love so passionately, so completely, and even if he was denying it to himself, Nuala knew him well enough to know the truth. And whatever happened between him and Elain, approximately a week ago or so, truly devastated him.

Prior to his disappearance, he operated as if he was in some sort of fog. He answered questions, he gave instructions and directions, he did whatever was expected of him—met with clients, held meetings with his car suppliers, negotiated deals—but his heart was not in it. His beloved business was no longer his priority, and that confounded Nuala, for she had never seen him like this before.

She arrived early, earlier than usual, because she needed to get crackin’. Without Azriel, things seemed…tighter…more difficult. She’d never noticed it, but somehow, he carried this business, made it seem easy, and she falsely believed that it was a walk in the park. Gods, it wasn’t! It was busy, and difficult, and required constant attention and decision making, and reports only piled on her desk—financials, inventory, guest lists, requests, specs. It was endless.

Azriel’s office, a glass cube perched at the top of the building and overlooking everything below, the entire operation, was very dimply lit this early morning. Cassian installed one-way floor to ceiling windows in the office, so no one could look inside, but Azriel was able to see everything, if he so desired.

Nuala climbed the industrial-style stairs and opened the door without knocking.

At first, she thought that there was a fire. The office was entirely engulfed in smoke, but before she could hit the alarm button, nauseatingly pungent stench of tobacco assaulted her nostrils.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed, rubbing her eyes, and rushing to open the outside windows. She left the door open as well, to encourage some sort of ventilation.

“What the hell,” she muttered again, finally making out Azriel in the dimness, who was sprawled on the leather sofa, in jeans and boots and a black t-shirt, his arm hanging listlessly to the floor, a cigarette between his fingers. On the floor, an almost empty bottle of Jameson’s and an overflowing ashtray, stuffed to the brim with butts. Tom Waits’s insanely gravelly, bourbon-and-tobacco-soaked voice filled the space as well.

“Wow,” she crossed her arms on her chest. “Wow.”

“Why are you here so early?” he asked by way of greeting.

“Funny thing—my boss disappeared for three days. Four days, actually. No word. No text. No call. No email. No warning. No idea whether he is dead or alive. So yes, it’s made for some early mornings for some of us.”

No answer.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette and said nothing.

“What the fuck, Az?”

“Like you said,” he shrugged indifferently, “I am the boss. I don’t have to report to anyone.”

Nuala bit her lip, but did not retort in the way she wanted to retort.

“Where were you?” she inquired calmly.

“Vegas.”

“Vegas?”

“Rhys’s Bachelor Party.”

“Oh.”

“I won money. It’s somewhere,” he glanced around absently. “Give it to some charity…”

“Which one?”

“I don’t care.”

“Fine.”

She didn’t push him. But added, “you can’t smoke here.”

“It’s my shop,”

“Even though. State and city regulations.”

He put out his cigarette compliantly.

“It’s 5 am. When did you start drinking?” she asked, pointing to the bottle.

He gave a lazy glance and shrugged,

“Technically, I didn’t stop drinking…It’s been a few hours…”

She was shaking her head.

He stared into the ceiling blindly, wordlessly.

Nuala didn’t know, but she also knew. So she took pity on him.

“Az,”

“I’d like to be alone now.”

“I will leave you alone,” she promised. “But…” she let out a whoosh of air, preparing herself. “Elain,”

He didn’t react.

“Elain is downstairs.”

To that he did react. He sat up so quickly, she didn’t track the movement with her eyes.

“I found her on the steps, outside,” said Nuala. “She looks like hell. I barely recognized her.”

“Why is she here?” he asked stupidly.

“I think you should probably ask her that. She wouldn’t come inside,” Nuala explained. “She said that she’s been sitting outside since 4 am, hoping to catch you.”

But Azriel was already out the door, sprinting down the stairs, making Nuala gasp, as he took three at a time, and she feared that he’d fall down on the concrete floor and break every bone in his body.

It was only five in the morning, and the streets, even NYC streets, were empty.

It was drizzling, a summer thunderstorm about to erupt.

Elain was sitting on the doorstep, arms wrapped around her knees, huddling into herself in the morning chill.

“Elain,”

She jumped up and turned to him.

He never saw her like this—wrecked. Utterly devastated. Wilted.

His lovely flower girl, his little rose, his darling beauty—wilted. Instead of her usual colouring of pink and golden, caramel and honey and cream, she looked black and white. Like everything was leeched out of her, every spark, all joy, each remarkable hue.

They did not greet each other. She just looked at him, and,

“I’ve hurt you,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady, the tone firm. “I know that. And you can leave and discard me, and you have every right,”

Azriel just stood there, looking at her, unable to get enough. Thinking that there was a possibility that this was going to be one of their last conversations. And that possibility was unacceptable to him. It was intolerable.

The rain began to fall.

Azriel moved under the awning, angling his body so she would come and stand under it as well, but she didn’t move.

Steady droplets pounded the pavement, giving off that fresh smell of wet asphalt. The air was heavy and humid and felt unsettled, like it was preparing for a torrent.

“But know this one thing,” she continued, staring at him, unblinking, eyes brimming with tears. “I fell in love with you on Saturday, May 9th, at 7:14 in the morning. I had loved you every moment of my life since then. I will love you every moment of my life until I die. Nothing will ever change that. I don’t speak to you as some besotted, inexperienced girl, who is smitten by a handsome man…I speak to you from my soul. You have my heart, Azriel. Every broken and sad piece of me, you’ve managed to put together with your beautiful, scarred hands. I will never ask for anything of you—not even a word back, but I needed you to know this. I want you know that I’ve never loved anyone, no man, no being, not my sisters or my parents, as much as I love you. All my joy, my peace, my dreams are connected to you. You are the first thing I think of when I wake up, and the last when I fall asleep—and then I dream of you. I don’t care if you know this, but I’ve built up my whole life around you in my head, all my fantasies are about you. All I want is to love you. That is all. Not very ambitious, I know,” she wiped the tears that were flooding her face, mixing with the rain, “but I can’t think of anything that would ever bring me more happiness, more satisfaction than to love you. And…” she choked a quiet sob, “if you don’t want me—that is alright…I want you to be happy. And if I don’t make you happy, then, so be it, but,”

Azriel couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t contain his bursting breath, his aching heart. Every bit of him felt electrified, wild, untamed.

He grabbed her, his arm pressing her soaking wet body to him, the rain pouring over them, and she trembled and sobbed next to him. Such indescribable hope in her eyes. That maybe, just maybe, it would all turn out like her fantasies.

He cupped her wet, pale face in his palm and murmured,

“You want me?”

Her trembling fingers traced his cheekbone and she nodded mutely.

“Say it,” he groaned.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“Say more,” he begged. “Say everything.”

“I love you. I choose you. I want you.”

He soaked it all up. Every breath. Every word. Every emotion on her face.

“Well,” he muttered, “if we are keeping score…then I fell in love with you on Tuesday, May 5th, at 4:47 in the afternoon.”

She laughed through her tears, clutching at him with desperate hands, as if fearing that he would disappear. Turn around and leave her.

But he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

He was exactly where he wanted to be. Yearned to be all his life.

“First glance, baby,” he lovingly caressed her face, “first glance. Love at first sight.”

She kissed the tips of his fingers.

“You are my home, Elain,” he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him, her cheek pressed to his chest, his hand cradling her head, “my favourite person in my life. With you, all things are possible. Sometimes, I feel like I can fly. Like I’ve grown wings and I hear the song of the wind. But I think that it’s just your voice in my head. You won’t leave, right?”

She chuckled and shook her head, “No. Never.”

“Because this week,” he shuddered, “it’s like I lost a limb…There was this phantom reminder of you, always within me, and yet, you weren’t there. I couldn’t reach and find you next to me. I’ve never felt such emptiness,” he brought her hand to his chest and lay it on her booming heart, “there was nothing here,” he pressed her hand closer, and she felt the steady beat, “empty…You weren’t with me, and there was nothing left.

“I think I’ve been in love with you—forever. I don’t even believe in past lives or other worlds, but sometimes I feel like I’ve known you for eternity.”

She raised her face to him, surprise and awareness in her red-rimmed eyes,

“I feel the same. Az, I’ve always felt the same thing!”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” she nodded vigorously, “when we held hands the first time, when we just met, I recognized your touch. I knew your scars. It was all familiar to me, like stepping back into my own home, after a long absence. Reacquainting myself with something that I already loved.”

He cupped her face in his hands and asked,

“May I kiss you?”

“You have to kiss me,” she smiled a happy, luminous smile at him. “I’ve waited for a long time for you to kiss me.”

Azriel smiled, and looked up, rain drenching his face and their bodies.

“Are we really going to do this? In the pouring rain?”

She was grinning, smiling happily, nodding, “All the cliches in the world!”

He clasped her jaw in his hand, wrapping his other arm tighter about her.

“I loved when you kissed me at the party,” she admitted, a little breathless.

“Yes?” he murmured and then dipped his head, and gently pressed his lips to her throat.

Elain shuddered against him, her breasts, nicely full, round and soft pressed tightly against his chest, and she sighed her pleasure.

“Like that?” he whispered against her cold, wet skin, and she half-moaned, nodding. So he kissed her neck again, on the other side, raking his teeth gently along the warm, pulsating vein. He kissed along her collarbones, tender and sweet, but with acute intention. Her breasts moved against his chest, their shirts nor her bra providing much of a barrier between his skin and her firm, swollen nipples.

Up her throat he went with his lips, kissing softly, until he pulled away for a moment, their breaths mingling, warm next to each other. He tilted her face just so, to have better access to her full mouth, and then kissed the plump lower lip. She clutched at his shirt and pulled him closer, the rain forgotten, the world encapsulated in his mouth, in the loving pressure of his lips against hers.

Elain looked irresistible. In his arms, where, let’s face it, she belonged, with her cheeks finally, finally taking on the familiar rosy blush.

Azriel, all 6”4 or “5 of the dark, bestial sexiness of him was wrapped around her. The low, sensual purr that he emitted turned into something more primal, hungrier when his mouth moulded into hers. The base, animalistic attractiveness of him, the bronze arms, the thick markings of his tattoos all over his skin, slithering like shadows, was almost too much for Elain to handle all at once, and she moaned, loud, and desperate against his lips. He brushed his nose against her cheek, and then nose to nose, and she was so stupidly needy for him that she struggled to stay upright. He brushed his fingertips over her lips, squeezing them between his and her own, and she licked on the pad of his thumb, laving some of the scars with the tip of her tongue.

Gods, this man could kiss.

Brutal, savage and noble--all amalgamated into one indescribable, unforgettable experience. Hungry and knowing, agonizingly slow, he devoured her mouth like it was some succulent, exotic fruit that he’s been craving. His lips explored her thoroughly, unhurriedly, tasting and savouring, caressing and worshipping. It was she who slipped her tongue inside his mouth, tentatively at first, but then gaining in boldness and confidence, especially once he sucked her in and stroked it with his own. He tasted of something masculine: alcohol, maybe, deep and rich and smokey, and tobacco, certainly, which, surprisingly, she enjoyed, but also something sexual. If Elain ever thought that she could taste passion, this lazy, indulgent sucking of his tongue on hers was exactly that. He groaned into her mouth, low and hot, and then licked on her tongue, with sensual playfulness which she loved.

She was hot in his arms, against his towering, heated body, and even the pouring rain couldn’t cool her off. The slabs of his abdominal muscles pressed into her belly and she was growing positively addicted to having him so close to her, his massive strength enveloping her so nicely, cushioning her against him. Nothing in her life has ever felt so wonderful, so sublime as Azriel felt in her arms.

Their kiss went on and on, heady and glorious, with him exploring every bit of her mouth with his tongue and lips, his hands caressing her body unobtrusively.

“Gods, I want to kiss you for eternity,” he moaned, tearing himself away from her lips at last.

She was panting, glassy-eyed, in love. He squeezed her face between his palms, looking down at her, her happiness, the unabashed joy in her eyes.

He’d finally made someone happy.

“Okay,” she agreed easily.

He smiled and kissed her again, then again, his lips creating a certain magic between his mouth and her skin and their bodies.

Elain had fought for him.

She didn’t give up. Didn’t shrug it all off. Didn’t leave in anger or panic. His absence meant something to her—perhaps, meant more than he could understand. He knew the misery of not having her in his life. It was only a week, but it was a week of pure hell. Now, he assumed that it wasn’t only he who felt that gaping chasm in his heart. She, for some inexplicable reason, loved him. Of that, he was certain.

“Now, I think we’ve satisfied any girl’s quota of romantic cheesiness,” he decided and she laughed, slapping his bicep lightly. He kissed her softly, “and I am taking you inside,” he said.

Elain only now realized that her feet haven’t been touching the asphalt for the duration of the kiss. She was literally floating aboveground, in his arms, in the throes of their first kiss.

The cheesiness quotient has been achieved indeed.

“Will you kiss me more?” she asked, as he swung her in his arms and carried her inside the shop.

“I am confident that I will never stop kissing you,” he assured and made his way up the stairs, to the office, clutching the dripping mess that she was in his arms.

She’s been here before, but he brought her straight into the attached bathroom, which was appointed outlandishly, and with a nice shower too.

“Get in there,” he ordered, “now. Before you catch a cold because of your love for kissing in the rain,”

She giggled, kiss-drunk and toed off her soaking wet converse that smacked limply on the tiled floor.

“But what am I going to wear?”

“My clothes, obviously,” he shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to, which is fine, because naked is just fine by me. Actually, preferred,”

She snickered, but looked at him, a little uncertain, and he rolled his eyes and muttered, “yes, yes, I will leave! Don’t worry. Though you know, I will eventually see everything anyway. So your modesty is misplaced on me.”

Azriel was correct. A hot shower was perfect. Despite it being late August, standing under pouring rain wasn’t as much fun as they made it seem in the movies.

The door opened and he came in, “here is some stuff for you.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, probably a little sultrier than she intended, and he winked, “Nice ass!”

“Ugh, stop looking!” she croaked, but he only laughed.

“You are the one with the bare butt!”

Then, he scratched his chin and bit his lip, making no move to leave.

“Az!” she exclaimed, blushing, but also kind of … intrigued.

“This is a very, very, very nice ass,” he muttered to himself, but loud enough for her to hear. Her blush only intensified, when he said, “the things I am going to do with it. Mmmm,” he rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, as if contemplating what he will be doing with her butt and then finally walked out, shaking his head.

When Elain emerged from the bathroom, with her hair wrapped in the towel and wearing Azriel’s t-shirt and shorts, she found him in a leather chair, sipping coffee. He’d also changed and his hair was mussed and damp, his bare feet crossed at the ankles, resting on a leather stool.

“There is coffee for you,” he jerked his chin towards a marble coffee table that had a basket of pastries and two large cups of coffee.

He marked everything.

How she looked in his clothes, which were much too big on her, yet cozy, though the shorts that she wore were hilarious, reaching below her knee.

How she brought him his coffee first, before taking her cup.

How she sat on the stool, by his feet and crossed her legs, before giving him a croissant and biting into her own.

“Have you warmed up?” he asked, sipping his coffee. Chugging gallons of coffee American style wasn’t his thing—he preferred quick, small espressos, but this giant cup did take the chill away.

She nodded.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked.

She tensed right away, and he said, “All is forgiven, I swear. “

She eyed him suspiciously, nevertheless.

He smiled at her, and added, “But...I think that I need to understand what happened? Did I do something to,”

“No!” she exclaimed immediately. “No. It was nothing you did. Never think that it was you,”

“Alright,” he said calmly. “Then what was it?”

She didn’t look up from her cup, running a finger over the rim.

“Talk to me, love,” he encouraged softly.

“You’ve consumed me, Azriel,” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “From the moment I saw you, you’ve consumed me. And I guess…” she sighed, “I was stupid…a stupid, stupid person because I didn’t know,”

“What?”

“Whether I was infatuated, or in love with you. So I thought that maybe, if I expose myself to another man, even in some minor way, I might be able to tell what I feel,”

“And? Did you?”

“Dorian…” she swallowed nervously, “he is a nice guy. He is in Law School with Nesta—that’s how I know him. When he asked to go to dinner, and I said yes,”

She looked up at him, tears threatening to spill out from her eyes,

“And I felt nothing,” she admitted, her voice broken somehow. “I could only think of you. The entire time, I could only think of you and I knew that it wasn’t fair to him…”

Azriel agreed, “probably not”.

“And I knew that I’d made a colossal mistake… But,” she set her cup on the floor and squeezed her fingers. “I…”

She halted. Said nothing else.

Azriel waited.

“What?” he probed, sensing that there was something she wasn’t telling him. He reached for her, but she only shrunk into herself.

“Elain, what is it?” he pressed.

She blushed and murmured, “promise me you won’t leave me, if I tell you.”

His brow furrowed, “Please,” he begged, “tell me what’s going? You are legit scaring me right now.”

“You won’t lea--,”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I am not leaving you, no matter what. But are you alright?”

She pulled her hair from the towel and it spilled over her shoulders, half-obscuring her face. He reached and tucked the wet strands behind her ears, so he could see her face.

“Talk to me, baby,” he urged gently.

She exhaled and then said, looking straight at him,

“I’ve never been with a man, Az.”

He looked at her and then blurted, absurdly, “Like a virgin? But you are so hot!”

She couldn’t help and burst out laughing.

“I guess not hot enough,” she shrugged, a bit more relaxed about the situation now that he seemed relieved and smirking too.

He exhaled, deeply, bubbling his lips, “Phew…I thought it was something,” he shook his head, not able to express his relief. “Important…Something, I don’t know, serious?”

“What would be serious?”

“I don’t even know,” he admitted, “but certainly more serious than a hymen!”

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

“And I appreciate you telling me,” he said seriously, kissing the inside of her hand, but then, that glint in his eyes returned and he asked, “so did you want the hunky Dorian to deflower you?”

She pushed at him with her foot and he fell back dramatically in his chair,

“Auuu, you are so unbelievably violent!” he complained, rubbing his side.

“I can be even more violent!” she threatened.

He was laughing, but then he caught her feet in his hands and squeezed them gently, holding them on his lap.

“So you didn’t have boyfriends in high school? In college?” he asked at last, genuinely perplexed.

She sighed and explained,

“In high school I was dating Luce,”

“You were dating a girl?” his brow furrowed. “I didn’t know,”

She started to laugh,

“No! Luce is a man. Lucien,”

“Oh…Oh. Every time you mentioned Luce, I just assumed he was a she.”

“No, he is my best friend. The closest friend I’ve ever had, besides maybe Nesta. We’ve always been close and then in high school, we began dating,” she tugged on her wet hair, “or rather, go on dates.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t know either—not in the beginning. But then, when we were juniors in 11th grade, he came out, to me only.”

“Ahhh,”

“Lucien’s step-father is really horrible. Like, awful. Physically abusive to all his sons, and always fancied himself this alpha male. So for Lucien to come out to him would have been suicide.

“We agreed that we’d continue our ‘dating’, until we graduate, and Luce was looking at schools only in California. As far as possible from here, from Beron.”

“And you were…okay with it?” he inquired, gently massaging her feet.

She shrugged, “I suppose I was. Luce and I had a good relationship,”

“But it was without any,”

“Intimacy,” she nodded. “I don’t know, I suppose it was enough…My mother had died recently and we lost most of our money, so I guess dating and boyfriends weren’t a priority, if I am being honest.”

He nodded with understanding.

“And college?”

“I had a boyfriend,” her voice wobbled a little, “but he…”

The heavy gaze that Azriel levelled at her told her that he already guessed.

“Sometimes,” she said, “when you are in the situation, you don’t see the warning signs,”

“Did he hit you?” his voice, so cold and menacing, sent a chill down her body.

She shook her head, “No. It didn’t get that far…Cass interfered,”

“Cass?”

“We’ve known Cass for at least a year,” she reminded him, “before he started dating Nesta. He spent a lot of time with us, at the house, because I think he didn’t want to part with Nesta,”

Azriel smiled, “No he didn’t. He wouldn’t stop talking about her for a year…I’d never seen him like that. First Rhys, then Cassian…Guess there is something special about these Archeron sisters,” he decided and stroked her face lovingly, smiling at her. She tucked his palm between her cheek and shoulder and kissed it.

“They do have a tendency to fall in love with the three brothers,” she agreed.

“Yes, they do.”

“Cass, he called us ‘his girls’—Feyre and I. Always asking after ‘his girls’, bringing us presents, doing fun things with us. And I came to love him so much,” she sighed. “And I know that he truly loves us too…But you know Cass—he is a no-nonsense kind of a guy. So once, he observed Graysen with me,”

“Graysen?” Azriel rolled his eyes. “That’s a horrible fucking name,”

She laughed,

“It matched his personality. But you know, on paper, he looked great. Handsome, good family, money,”

“So basically Dorian?”

Elain rolled her eyes,

“You are never going to have me live this down, will you?”

“Not for a while.”

“At least you are honest. Gray, he just…didn’t care, I guess? It was all about him. When I’d talk about opening my shop, it would just be a plain ‘no’. He’s put me down…” she sighed, “sometimes comment on my weight—I was either too fat or too thin.” Azriel flinched at that. She continued, “He’d tell me what to eat. What to wear. Where to go,”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered.

Then, he sat up straight in the chair and opened his arms to her.

“Come here.”

Elain, a bit unsure, and a bit rattled by the memories, moved towards him. He cupped her face in his broad scarred hands and said, “All in the past. Now, it’s just you and me.”

She nodded, gently squeezing his wrists. He leaned in closer and she nodded. His sort of power, the more aggressive and primal, and seemingly more dominant than what Graysen could ever conjure up, did not scare Elain at all. He beckoned and seduced her with that pursuit and challenge, but he did not frighten or oppress. It was similar to what Cassian possessed and how he managed to seduce Nesta with it, turned her compliant to his demand and instruction, or Lorcan with Elide. Azriel’s power, his seduction, were more cerebral, his affection passionate, but controlled. Elain could abandon herself to him, and yet she knew that she’d never be abused or taken advantage of, no matter how much control she relinquished.

This kiss was sultry and voluptuous, and it felt dirtier, heavier than their first one. He sucked her lips, is tongue softly grinding against her in a smouldering, almost smug rhythm. He fucked into her mouth steadily, and purposefully, rendering her completely breathless in his arms almost instantly, forcing all thoughts of previous loves and heartaches out of her head. She made a tiny, strangled noise deep inside her throat and squeezed his wrists harder.

“Tell me things, baby,” he muttered heatedly against her lips, thumbs brushing over her cheeks.

She smiled, “what things would you like to hear?” He kissed her softly, lips pecking on hers playfully, and said, “all the things…all the good things that you told me before,”

“That I love you?” she asked simply, looking at him with earnest, undimming desire.

“Yes,” he groaned, pulling her closer to him, until she was straddling his thighs, her legs naturally falling on either side of him. A desperate moan escaped his lips, as Elain licked on them with the tip of her tongue, before he demanded, between kisses and caresses of his tongue in her parted mouth, “more,”

“I love you. I love you,” she breathed, then panted, “you are mine…I am yours. Forever, if you’d like,”

“I’d like forever,” he agreed.

She pulled away, her soft, lovely face serious,

“Az,”

“Elain,”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” she asked, and he grinned, nodding. She sounded absurdly solemn about this, like she was signing a business contract. “I love you. I want you to be my boyfriend,”

“Alright, babygirl, I will be your boyfriend,” he nodded easily.

“No jokes.”

“No jokes.”

He then said in turn, “But you’ll be mine.”

She nodded.

“In every way,” he added, in a tone that did not allow space for much argument. “Body,” and he lightly ran his knuckles against the side of her breast, and she nodded. He added, “but I want more,”

“What do you want, Az?”

“Love,” he said simply.

She kissed him. “I love you,” she said.

He waited.

“I chose you, Azriel, the moment I saw you. When my heart dropped at the sight of you, and when everything fell into place. I don’t mind choosing you for the rest of my life, if you have me,” she murmured shyly.

“I will have you,” he agreed, her admission making him swallow hard, a thick glob of air lodged in his throat. He might have cried, if he weren’t so happy. His flower girl. His.

He looked and looked, and considered something. She waited, silent. Silence was always a friend between the two of them. Silence was easy and unoppressive and welcome. It allowed them space, and yet they remained together in that mute, mutual understanding. While he was thinking, she took his hand and softly kissed each scarred fingertip.

“I am calling on my bargain,” he declared suddenly, and stroked her head.

Confused, she scrunched her face and muttered, “what?”

He grabbed her behind in his strong hands and somehow, managed to rise up, with her clutching at him. His nose burrowed into her ear and she squirmed, giggling, when he grunted, “what a nice little ass!”

“You seem to like it,” she laughed, wrapping her arms around him.

“I love it!”

“Now what about this bargain?” she reminded him, a bit concerned. “What are we doing?”

“Whatever I want!”

“Az!”

“Lainey.”

He headed for the door, with her in his arms, and she screeched, “I don’t even have shoes on!”

“You don’t need shoes where we are going,”

“Azriel!”

“Why are you so fussy?” he mused, smirking, as he made it down the stairs.

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I don’t have to tell you. All I promised was that it’s not going to be ‘bad’ whatever that means.”

She sighed, shaking her head, muttering under her breath. He, in turn, very much enjoyed her clutching at him, her body in his arms, her wet hair swiping over his arm. She looked very cute, if very ridiculous in his clothes, and frankly, he was too elated, too disbelieving that this was even real, to let her go. He held her and nuzzled at her neck, at her face, sometimes returning to her beautiful mouth.

He carried her through the still-empty premises, though waiters at the bar and delivery people in the kitchen were starting their day. When they saw their boss carrying a woman, who frequently visited him here in the past few months, they pretended not to notice, as if this was a normal affair. In fact, no other woman ever came here, to visit him. He’s never been seen with a woman, never said that he had a girlfriend, even if women seemed to lose their minds in his presence. But until this one—absolutely not the type of a woman he typically attracted—he never allowed anyone to get close to him.

Azriel made his way into the cavernous insides of the building, at last entering the tattoo shop that he had on premises. It was elegantly outfitted and bore his usual aesthetic—restrained, modern, striking with its use of black, white, and splashes of cobalt.

Elain looked around, when he set her down and pointed out, “I’ve been here before.”

He nodded.

As she wandered about, looking at various lithographs and prints with unique tattoo designed, she finally stopped abruptly and whirled to him,

“No!”

He was laughing under his breath.

“No!” she exclaimed again.

“No what?” he winked, sitting down on a stool, and patting on a leather recliner beside it.

“You…” she fumed. “No!”

He tsked, “A bargain is a bargain.”

“Azriel!” she stomped her foot.

He crossed his arms on his chest and looked at her, “Elain.”

“I am not getting a tattoo!”

“You most certainly are. Stop being a wuss and come here.”

“I am not going to,” she insisted.

“You know,” he notified her conversationally, as he started to prep his equipment, “a shitty little Bagarat tattoo is like $800 bucks,”

“Congratulations. Give it to someone else,” she offered, scowling. “Maybe someone would like a sleeve for twenty grand!”

“I won’t give you a sleeve. Jeez, you’ll probably faint at the first prick,”

She huffed, “I will not!”

He shrugged.

She pressed, “I will not. I am not afraid of needles and I have a high pain tolerance.”

“Lots of talk, babe, no action,”

Stomping angrily, she crossed the open space and challenged, “do you even know how to tattoo?”

“Cass and Rhys…” he winked. “And whenever Rowan decides to add to his collection…Or Gavriel,”

Those were some of the finest, most intricate designs that Elain’s ever seen.

“You did those?” she asked, brow furrowed.

He nodded.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

“Will you trust me?” his voice softened and he extended his hand to her.

Elain sighed and then slid on the lounge chair. It was comfortable. She was nervous.

“What will it be?” she asked. “May I see it?”

Wordlessly, he pulled a piece of paper from a folder, but then did not give it to her. She waited. He suddenly seemed uncertain, almost shy.

“Az,” she said gently, “may I see it? I am sure it’s beautiful.”

He swallowed and then explained, “I traced it the first day…evening��When we met, and you were here, at the garage. I,” he exhaled and then looked at her, “anyway…I was overwhelmed, I guess. I fell in love with you and all I could think of was you.”

The words warmed her up, and everything in her softened at his nervousness, at his admission.

“I want it,” she took the paper from him.

“It’s just for you,” he clarified. “It’s unique to you. I needed to quiet my brain and capture the essence of you, and this was it,”

Elain looked at the drawing. It was smaller than she expected, and rendered masterfully—an absolutely exquisite flower cradled in an embrace of two wings.

He swallowed tightly, and then said, “It’s called On the Wings of Desire.”

Without saying anything, Elain pulled up the shirt that she was wearing, just up to her chest. He looked down at her, expectantly.

She put her hand under her left breast, where her heart was and said, “there. I need it there.”

He nodded, remaining silent.

She saw that this was important to him, some ritual that he desired for her to go through, some sort of marking. That’s what it was. It dawned on her, at last. This was his mark, on her. He was going to do it himself, put a part of him, of his creation, of his work, not just on her skin, but within her blood, into her.

She clasped his hand and his eyes flew to her, a shadow of apprehension and anxiety in them, probably as much emotion as he’d be willing to show. He feared that she’d changed her mind.

“Az,” she licked her lip, suddenly nervous to request this of him. “Can you,”

“What?”

“Can you do it on you as well?” she proposed quietly.

He, it seemed, was unable to verbalize what he needed to, so she helped him, “Same spot, alright? Across your heart. So you know that I am always with you, as you are with me.”

He nodded vigorously, clearly relieved and absolutely in love with her proposition.

“Who will do it?” she wondered. “Please don’t ask me!” she laughed.

He smirked. “Nuala. She will do it. Only Nuala or Rowan tattoo me.”

She nodded and then relaxed back into the leather.

“No crying,” he said.

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Kind of weird that you are this sensitive to pain, but okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

He was laughing.

“I thought only Nesta had a big mouth like that,” he said, as he prepped the skin and pulled on his gloves.

“Mistake number one,” teased Elain.

“I am seeing that now,”

He then said, “Okay, I may accidentally brush against the boobie,”

“How accidentally?” she chuckled, while he pressed the outline into her skin. Then, the needle began its wheezing and Elain winced, as the first prick of the needle stung her skin.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” it was more painful than she expected, and she figured that the spot that she selected was probably not the best and would hurt more than an arm or a leg, but she was set on it.

“Absolutely, totally accidentally,” he lied. “You are the one who chose the spot,” he pointed out.

Elain was a trooper. She did not make any hissing noises or any sounds at all throughout the tattooing. The shading was the longest and most painful part, and even then, she remained composed and only winced a few times.

“I am sorry,” he murmured repeatedly, especially when a bit of blood seeped onto her skin.

“Prick your finger,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Prick your finger,”

“And?”

The soft doe-eyes blinked at him a few times, and she said, ���I think you know what to do.”

So he did. He pricked his finger and mixed his blood with hers.

 Nuala offered to tattoo ‘No Regerts’ on Azriel’s chest, if Elain so desired. She considered it, while Nuala explained that Azriel was now at their mercy and they could do whatever they wanted to him. At the end, he walked away with only a small tattoo over his heart.

 It was about 8 am when Azriel and Elain left the garage. The sun was shining and there were no remnants of the previous storms. It was like it never happened. But it did happen. Everything happened.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, slinging his heavy, muscled arm around her shoulders. She’s been clutching at her side the whole time.

She shook her head no and looked at him. He smiled and then kissed her.

“I love you,” he murmured suddenly. Elain’s face broke into a loving smile and she reciprocated by kissing him back. “Let’s go home.”

[staticscreenwriting]

Love like the movies // Bucky Barnes // 6

SIX - GHOST

Trigger warning: Alcohol, food, mention of sex (nothing graphic and no actual smut)

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

"You held hands?"

"Mmh."

"And then you cuddled."

"We didn't cuddle, I was just kind of - leaning into him. Sort of."

"So you cuddled!"

"Sure. If that's what you wanna call it. We cuddled."

"Then what?" Robin inquires. Smirking at (Y/N) over the rim of her wine glass, like a giddy pre-teen waiting for the kissing scene to come up in a romance movie.

"And nothing. That's it."

"Oh come oooon. You cozied up to each other and then just what - acted like it never happened?"

"Essentially. But that's okay. It's not a big deal. And don't say it like that."

"Like what?" Robin continues to poke and by this point, it's not so much her wanting information than her trying to rile up (Y/N). Though she's very well aware of this, (Y/N) falls for it anyway.

"Cozied up to each other," (Y/N) says and scrunches her nose up in distaste. "Like we had dirty sex or something."

"Do you want to have dirty sex with him? Oh man, imagine what that arm can do."

Holding her hand out to stop her best friend from talking, (Y/N) takes a big gulp of white wine, emptying her glass. This is a conversation that can't be held entirely sober. "First of all, don't say those things about his arm. It's- I don't know. It doesn't sit right with me."

"Sorry yeah that was … not cool" Robin apologizes and by the tone of her voice (Y/N) can tell she means it.

"I'm the first to admit that Bucky is insanely handsome and if things were different, sure. But we're friends and I really enjoy the time spent together and our friendship. I don't wanna do anything to jeopardize it or ruin it by adding unnecessary feelings to it."

"Feelings aren't unnecessary," Robin replies, combing her fingers through her fiery red curls.

"Sometimes they are. The last thing Bucky and I need is broken hearts and ruined friendships."

"What if it doesn't end that way?"

"Relationships never work out well for me, you know that."

Robin places her glass on the countertop. It means whatever talk is gonna follow, it'll be a serious one. There's been very little need for a serious talk between the girls over the time they've been friends but neither of them has ever been afraid to start those conversations and say things as they are. Sometimes that's what friendship is, being blunt even if it's not what your friend wants to hear.

"Look I'm not saying you have to take the relationship to another level. If this is making you happy the way it is, then that's all that matters to me. I just don't want you to give up on something that could be great, because you're scared and because some stupid assholes in the past didn't realize what they had in you."

Where she's only had shit luck with relationships, (Y/N) thinks she's really lucked out in the friend department. Robin is as wonderful as they come. Even if she drives her crazy sometimes.

"They weren't all assholes." (Y/N) chimes up weakly though there's not even enough determination in her voice to convince herself.

"Weren't they? Let's see ...I'm not even gonna talk about Russel. He doesn't count. Who else was there? Pete liked to show you off but he didn't like you. Did he?"

"Not really."

"See? Asshole! Kylie only wanted to be with you so she could be the cool girl who's fucked another girl once and use that as something to brag to the guys about."

"She was figuring herself out."

"She was straight, babe. She was using you and your sexuality as some kind of badge of honor so guys would think she's cool. She only wanted to make out with you at parties and when there were men around to ogle you. I’m the last person to blame anyone for trying to figure out who they are and who they like but that wasn’t the case here. She used you, and what does that make her?"

“ An asshole? “

“ An asshole!”

“ What about Ricky, he wasn’t an asshole! “ (Y/N) chimes in, filling her glass up once more.

“ Okay sure but he was your High School sweetheart and that rarely lasts. I’m not gonna count him. What about Mike —“

“— Okay, you’ve made your point. I have a bad taste in romantic partners, I get it. Doesn’t change anything. Me and Bucky we’re — we’re good as we are. No romance needed.”

“ Just don’t want you to miss out on something great.”

It’s not that the thought has never crossed her mind. In fact, when she’s being really honest to herself, it swirls around her head a lot. When he grants her one of his smiles. The rare ones that make his eyes crinkle. Or when he comes to see her and brings dog treats for Lady, just because he’s that thoughtful. Or when she noticed he put a popcorn and a sun emoji next to her name in his phone. The popcorn, as he said because she liked movies and the sun because she’s always happy and smiling. Or when he held her hand throughout the entire movie. Those are moments when (Y/N) thinks about what it would be like to be more than friends.

“ It’s great as it is now. He’s great.”

“ Then that’s all that matters to me.” Robin smiles. She has one of those smiles that makes you feel at home. Comfortable and soft. Like warm milk with honey a mom makes their child when they can’t sleep.

It’s a while later, when (Y/N) strolls back into the room, another bottle of wine in hand, that a knock sounds on her front door. Her eyes wander to Robin then to the door then back. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“ Oh, that’s Bucky.” Robin, who’s by now migrated over to (Y/N)’s huge fluffy couch, Lady cuddled onto her lap, says with the most casual of tones (Y/N) has ever heard. As if Bucky and her have been lifelong friends. As if there is nothing strange or peculiar about this situation.

“ How do you know?”

Robin shrugs and goes back to petting Lady’s curly fur. “ He texted you when you were getting the wine. Said he was around and had food. I told him to come join us for movie night. What’s the big deal? “

“ I uh — it’s not I just — you could’ve told me. “

“ That was literally 5 minutes ago babe. I had no time to tell you yet. By the way, this man uses entirely too many emojis.”

A smile pulls on the corners of (Y/N)’s lips. She’s asked him once why he never used any emojis, or smileys as he called them (all of them — even the ones that aren’t faces). He told her he didn’t really understand when to use most of them, like the shrimp or the Hockey stick. (Y/N) told him it’s because they’re fun. Ever since then he uses all kinds of emojis with her. None really relating to his messages. It’s quite endearing if she’s being honest.

“ Are you gonna let him in? “ Robin asks, shaking (Y/N) out of her thoughts.

The smell of Chinese food floods into the apartment as (Y/N) opens her door to Bucky. He looks so effortlessly cool in his leather jacket and boots. With his hair a little longer now, all swoopy and quiffed. Like the bad boy straight from a romance novel. The one with a heart of gold. The one that gets the girl.

(Y/N) is not that girl, the one from the novels, the Hallmark movies. The one that’s quirky but never weird. The one that makes all the boys fall for her. She’s not the main character, at least according to herself. She’s the side character that shows up like twice. The one that helps the main character on their quest to self-discovery or true love. That’s who she is. Not more, not less.

“ I brought food!” Bucky exclaims as he steps inside, waving the bag around before placing it on the kitchen counter, to which Lady jumps up from her position on Robin’s lap.

Lady, (Y/N) has realized a while ago, has somehow fallen head over paws in love with Bucky. Always following him, looking up at him with her big brown puppy eyes. Always looking to be close to him. Maybe, (Y/N) thinks, it’s the treats he always carries around. But maybe it’s Bucky too and his patience and his affection and the way he greets the little dog like she’s the main reason he’s come around.

Moments like this, they come with those little flutters around the heart. People always compare them to butterflies. (Y/N) thinks that’s wrong. Butterflies are gentle, graceful, and soft. This feels like a swarm of bees. Chaotic. Overwhelming. A little bit scary.

“ Man, did you plan on coming here, or did you buy all this for yourself?” Robin asks, eyes wide in surprise at the sheer amount of styrofoam containers Bucky keeps pulling from the bags.

“ I kind of bought it with the intention of sharing, yeah. “

Robin’s eyes meet (Y/N)’s across the room and there's a silent secret there, hidden in her teasing smirk. One shared only with a friend. No words. No sounds. Just the truth and two knowing hearts connecting.

“ Am I intruding? If you guys want me to leave, I can leave. “

While he tries to keep his voice casual, the sad tint doesn’t get lost on (Y/N).

“ Absolutely not, don’t be silly. We’re just drinking wine and watching a movie and you are free to join us in both.”

While he shakes his head at her offer of wine, Bucky helps (Y/N) bring the food over to the couch and plops down in the middle of the couch, Robin to his right and (Y/N) on his left.

“ What are we watching? “ he asks, a dumpling already on the way into his mouth.

“ Well, “ Robin responds filling her glass up once more, “ it was (Y/N)’s turn to chose so —”

“ A rom-com”

“ A rom-com. “

Something about seeing these two interact and joke around inspires a fuzzy feeling to wrap itself around (Y/N)’s heart. Even if they’re making fun of her.

The way Bucky fits in here, as if it’s where he’s always belonged. The way he’s not a stranger imposing but a friend added to the mix. It’s a nice feeling. She hopes he feels it too.

“ Okay, whatever. This isn’t your usual rom-com though, there are ghosts in this one. “

“ Is it ghosts falling in love?” Robin asks and lets her laugh get swallowed by her wine glass.

“ No. Well — uh kinda but not really. They fall in love be — you know what, just start the damn movie! “

There’s an undeniable intimacy in watching your favorite movies with other people. It’s like giving away little pieces of yourself and sharing them with others. No matter how insignificant it may seem to anyone else but you. These are the things that make us who we are. Our passions. For art. For music. For books. For movies. And opening up is always scary. Even if it’s just a teeny tiny bit.

Through the corner of her eye (Y/N) glances at Bucky and Robin, trying to judge their reactions. See if they’re enjoying themselves or not. Bucky displays his ever-present scowl. It’s the default setting. Sometimes she wonders if that has always been the case. If that's just what he looks like or if years of abuse, horror, pain have left their marks on him, on not only his heart but also his face.

Maybe this can be his safe place, she thinks. Maybe she can be. Not someone to fix him, because he’s not broken, just lost. Not to fix but to hold his hand while he heals. Slowly but surely.

For a while, the three sit in comfortable silence. The kind that fills you with this inexplicable calm. Where no words are needed.

And then the beginning chords of unchained melody spill from the tv speakers. It’s a touch there, a kiss here, hands covered in clay. Bodies covered in clay. Gasps and heavy breathing. Hands grasping skin, wandering, loving.

Robin’s presence falls completely to the back of (Y/N)’s mind. Bucky’s however...

“Do you want to have dirty sex with him? “ her friend's words ghost through her head like a particularly annoying jingle for some tv ad. The room feels warm all of a sudden. Not warm — boiling. There’s a heat radiating from her right, from Bucky. So what if he’s attractive. So what if she sometimes lets her mind wander and think about how his hands would feel on her skin or his lips on hers or his — yeah okay you get the point. So what?

Bucky slumps down into the couch a little more with every second of steamy pottery sex that’s fluttering across the tv screen. Is he — nervous? Uncomfortable ? No, she must be imagining it. Projecting, that’s what this is. She’s projecting her own chaotic emotional state onto him. There’s nothing there. (Y/N) has to remind herself. Just secret little thoughts that have to be kept between her and her. As long as no one knows, no one gets hurt. It’s the easy way out. The safe way. The right way.

Right?

“ Sooo, what did you guys think?” (Y/N) asks, turning her body towards her friends and sitting criss-cross on the couch.

“ Didn’t expect all the murder. “ Bucky replies as he takes a sip from his beer. “ And the — “

“ The messy sex! I know.” a visibly intoxicated Robin cuts in.

“ Not where I was going but okay.”

She doesn’t pay his words any attention, instead of launching herself backwards over the arm of the couch, dramatically fanning herself with her perfectly manicured hand. “ I am not going to lie, oh boy that was some hot stuff. Wouldn’t say no to that.”

“Oh please,” (Y/N) chimes in, wine glass clutched in hand and smile on her face. She can clearly feel the alcohol washing through her system bringing her to the place between sober and drunk where everything feels light and your confidence seems to get a little extra boost. “ What do you have to complain about? You’re getting married in two weeks! I’m sure you get enough action as it is. “

Robin doesn’t answer right away, just throws (Y/N) a giddy, boozed-up smile. Though in her eyes, there’s a loved-up glimmer of someone about to marry the love of their life.

“ Yeah, that’s true.”

“See, so you’re not the one that should be complaining. Us, however…”

Her red curls swing around her like a spark of fire as Robin sits up again, pointing her finger at (Y/N).

“ And whose fault is that? You could be getting some if you didn’t get so lost in your romantic fantasies. And him — “ the red-haired girl exclaims before pointing her finger towards Bucky “ don’t even tell me he ain’t getting some. Look at him! Are you sexually active, Bucky? “

“ You don’t have to answer that. Robin, come on.”

“ No, you don’t have to but you should. I’m trying to prove a point. Help me prove a point, Bucky. “

“ You’re making him uncomfortable. “

“ Am I making him uncomfortable or you? “

“ Ooookay, I think it’s time for you to go to bed. “

“ Nooo, we’re having a conversation. “

“ Would you look at that, my drink is empty. I’m just gonna — I’m gonna get another one. Okay? Okay.”

Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer before getting up and rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen, clearly uncomfortable. Clearly embarrassed.

“ See what you did? You scared him off. “

“ I couldn’t scare that man off if I tried. Trust me. “ Robin murmurs, a loud yawn cutting through her argument. There’s a certain determination in her words though. Some truth hidden in there that (Y/N) can’t quite put her finger on. It’s like Robin knows something she doesn’t. And maybe it’s good this way. Maybe she doesn’t need to know.

“ Alright, whatever that’s supposed to mean, Tipsy. I’ll go see what he’s up to. You go the fuck to sleep.”

“ Whatever mom, “ Robin bickers and cuddles closer into the soft couch anyway. “ Oh, don’t forget to invite him! I like him. We’re friends now. “

“ Go to sleep! “ (Y/N) orders again, earning herself a salute from her best friend who starts snoring no more than 2 seconds later.

He feels like a 13-year-old. Actually — no. Things were easier at 13. Situations like this one were easier at 13. Being horny was easier at 13.

It was all new to him then, yes, but it was new for everyone at 13. He’s 106 now, a grown man. He should be able to talk or at least think about these things without turning into a full-blown mess. His hand is clammy, his face is probably the same shade of bright red as Robin’s hair. And by god, his thoughts are a jumbled mess, swirling around all over the place.

Truth be told, he hasn’t had a lot of time to actually think about anything even remotely physical. It was never very high on his list of things to figure out and the opportunity hasn’t really presented itself to him either. Not since the 1940s at least.

Have things changed? Surely not, right? Maybe people got a bit more experimental and for sure they talk more openly about it now but the fundamentals must have stayed the same. He sure hopes so at least.

His thoughts get interrupted as (Y/N) steps into the kitchen. Her eyes are slightly glassed over from the wine though she’s nowhere near as drunk as Robin. She seems happy, then again she always does. For a little moment, he feels jealousy wash over him. About being able to get drunk. It’s damn stupid, he’s well aware. But that doesn’t make his feelings less valid. To just drink and let go and forget, that sounds really nice.

But that’s just one of the things the serum has taken from him. By far not the worst aspect of it all but unpleasant either way.

“ Hey uh — you okay? “ she asks leaning against the kitchen island across from him.

“ Sure. Are you? “

“ I uh — might be a little drunk, “ (Y/N) confesses as she lifts her hand and indicates a tiny space with her fingers.

“ Yeah, I think you might be.” Bucky laughs. Actually laughing comes naturally when she’s around and quite honestly, at first, it made him feel guilty. Guilty about the fact that he got to laugh along with a pretty girl while so many people had to die through his hands.

He tries to push those thoughts away. They aren’t doing anyone any good. Not him and not those people either.

“ Hey, I’m sorry she was making you uncomfortable. She gets — well she has no filter when drunk. Or ever really.”

Bucky shakes his head. His finger nervously trails along the grain of the stone countertop. There are conversations he needs to have, sooner or later, if he wants to live his life. Not just coast along but actually live. But it doesn’t mean those come easy. Not for someone who’s been through all he’s been through. Not for someone who’s grown up the way he has, who’s been raised the way he has.

“ Ah, no. Don’t worry. I uh — I just. It’s been a long time since I had talks like this. “

“ Like what? “

“ Between friends, you know. About — stuff. “

“ About sex? “

“ Mmh. “

“ You don’t have to talk about it with us if you don’t want to. It’s fine. “

“ No, but I do want to talk about sex with you. I mean — not you, you. You both. But not in a weird way. I mean — with friends. “

“ Okay. “

“ It’s just that I was raised in different times and the last time I had a real actual friend that I talked to about intimate things was so long ago. Steve and I talked about everything and even then there used to be reservations. One because I don’t think Steve really wanted details and two because Steve wasn’t — he didn’t have the most experience when it came to women so it was a very one-sided conversation. And I’ve never talked about any of this with a girl. It’s all new to me but I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you. “

(Y/N) regards him with a glimmer of amusement and mischief in her eyes as she munches away on some cold leftover spring rolls.

“ You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Buck. I know you trust me, I hope you know I trust you. “

He does. And he doesn’t hate how it sounds when she calls him Buck.

“ So, Robin and Charlie are getting married in two weeks. I was wondering if you’d like to be my plus one. Back when they announced it I was under the impression Russel and I would be a thing by then but uh — clearly that didn’t happen. It’s in upstate New York. We’re all gonna stay at this gorgeous Inn and well there’s a spot open if you want it.”

“ As a plus one? “

No matter how much he wants to deny it to himself, his heart does a little flutter as she says those words. A plus one sounds like something. He’s not sure what but something, surely.

“ Yeah, as a friend, obviously. “

“ Obviously. “

There goes the flutter.

“ Robin is okay with it by the way. She explicitly told me to ask you.”

“ So Robin wants me there, not you. “

“ No! I want you there! I love spending time with you. Also, Robin’s family is crazy. I need you by my side. I need you there. I want you there. “

“The need to be needed is an individual’s sense of significance rooted in the sense of being part of a community or cause beyond themselves. The need to be needed is one of our fundamental desires. We want to feel significant in the eyes of others, even if it is only one other person. “

Bucky has read those words in one of the many magazines stacked on the little side table in the waiting room of Dr. Raynor's office. They didn’t really make much sense to him then. He always thought he’d be fine by himself.

In that moment he realizes that was all a big pile of absolute bullshit.

The feeling of being wanted, of being needed, even if it’s just one person that needs him, that means everything.

“ Okay, I’ll come. “

“ Yeah? “

And there it is again, the smile that reminds him of the sun. The smile that he’s sure could bring a thousand men to their knees, including himself.

“ Cool. I’m — I’m really happy about that. “

“ Mmh. Me too. “

For a moment they just look at each other, words unspoken swirling in the air between them, neither brave enough to let them slip from their tongue.

It’s not until a particularly loud snore coming from the living room pops the bubble and breaks the spell.

Both of them fall into giggles before Bucky speaks up again.

“ It's late I should probably go. “

“ Yeah and I should go to bed. I’ll have a hangover tomorrow for sure.”

Bucky slips into his leather jacket and places a soft kiss goodbye on Lady’s head before turning back to (Y/N).

“ For the record, I’m not getting any. “

“ I uh — okay. Good. Well not good, “ (Y/N) stumbles over her words “ not good for you. Good for me. I mean. Not that I don’t want you to have sex. But I mean, Robin was taking the piss, and if I don’t get laid it makes me feel better to know you aren’t either. Oh god, this sounds horrible. I’m just gonna stop talking now. “

Bucky smiles the brightest smile she’s ever seen him smile, it almost breaks his face in two. And even though she wants the ground to swallow her whole right then, if it puts a smile like that on his face, she’ll gratefully embarrass herself again.

“ Have a good night, (Y/N). “

“ You too, Bucky”

And with a kiss to her head, he leaves the flat, a smile staying on his lips the entire way home.

“ Why did I have to come again? This is a bachelorette party, I thought men aren’t allowed. “ Bucky grumbles as (Y/N) parks her truck in the parking lot of the convenience store. The pink and blue neon lights reflect on the wet asphalt.

“ It’s a shared party. We’re all friends so it makes sense for the couple to celebrate together. Stop moaning. “ (Y/N) exclaims as her heels create a click-clack sound.

The store is empty as they enter except for the bored-looking teenager leaning against the counter by the cash register.

There’s something about empty stores at night that makes it feel like time stands still. Like for a moment, reality is altered. There’s only you and the outdated music coming from the speakers and the hum of the refrigerators holding the soda cans.

“ I can’t believe Hannah forgot to bake the cake. It’s all she had to do. I did everything else, everything. She had one job. “

Bucky’s learned by now to just let her rant about this topic. It’s all she’s talked about for the last hours since Hannah, public enemy number one that day, has called her to inform her she’s forgotten about the cake. Why there needs to be a cake at this party, Bucky doesn’t know but hey, who is he to question it.

(Y/N) walks straight over to the counter that holds the bakery items only to be met with disappointment.

“ Well great. We can choose between one single cupcake, a box of stale donuts, and a croissant. “

“ What about this one? “ Bucky asks and points towards a bright pink cake decorated with candy roses and white icing.

“ It says Happy Birthday. “

“ Ah, don’t worry we can fix that.”

(Y/N) raises her eyebrows in doubt. “ You sure? “

“ 100%. Trust me. “

She regards him for a moment, uncertainty shining through, before granting him a little smile and a nod. “ Okay then. You get the cake, I’ll be over there for a second. “

Looking through the fridges, (Y/N)’s eyes fall onto a pack of popsicles in the shape of Captain America’s shield.

Ripping open the fridge door she calls out “ Hey Grumpy, would you like thes— “

All she hears is a smack and then Bucky’s voice exclaiming a loud “Fuck!”

And in that moment she doesn’t know what’s more shocking, the fact that she just slammed the door right into his face or hearing him swear.

“ Are you okay? I’m so sorry. “

“ I’ll be fine.”

“ We gotta put ice on it. “

“ No (Y/N) I — “

She’s already on her way to get a pack of frozen peas. And if Bucky is being real honest, his cheek does hurt quite a bit. Super Soldier Serum and all …

“ I am genuinely so sorry. “

Bucky sits on the bed of (Y/N)’s truck, frozen peas pressed to his face and a chuckle falling from his lips as (Y/N) sends yet another apology his way.

“ It’s okay, (Y/N). I told you, I’m fine. “

He pulls the peas away from his face and places them next to him, before picking up the cake and lifting the plastic lid off of the container.

“ Alright, let’s see if I can fix this. “

“ You have a bruise on your cheek. “

Bucky looks up at her with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, that (Y/N) sometimes finds herself drowning in. Calm and story all at once. Like oceans.

“ Does it make me look rough and handsome? “

“ You’re always handsome. But yes, it gives you a roguish charm. “

“ Good. “

(Y/N) feels a heat rush to her face as Bucky focuses back on the cake.

“ Mmmkay. Let me see. What if we — “ Bucky murmurs, more to himself than to (Y/N). He swipes his finger, sans glove, over the white icing letters and while there’s a good intention there, when he lifts his finger back up the cake looks like a downright mess.

“ Ta-da “ he exclaims and turns the cake towards her.

“ It says Happy day now “

“ Is it not a happy day? “ Bucky asks, eyebrows raised in question.

“ Let me rephrase that. It says ‘Happy messy white stain Day’ “

Bucky pulls his lips into a grimace, eyes wandering from (Y/N) down to the cake and back to her. “ Yeah, we can’t bring that “.

Laughter fills the air as they regard the sad mess of a cake before them. If this was a movie, (Y/N) thinks, this would be their moment. The one where they realize. The one that feels like time stops and all that matters is them.

Something wet and sticky against her cheek pulls her from her daydream.

“ What the hell? “

Bucky only grins at her. There’s the boyish charm again. It’s so insanely endearing to see these little moments flare up and push through the perpetual gloom he seems to carry with him. He doesn't hold the weight of 90 years of fighting on his shoulders right then.

“ Oh you didn’t “

Before Bucky can react she grabs a handful of the cake and smashes it against the uninjured side of his face.

“ Is that how you wanna play it? Okay. Fine. “

Cake flies through the air as their laughter rings through the night. Not a thought wasted on pain, on worries, on heartbreak.

The rooftop bar (Y/N) booked specifically for this night is covered in fairy lights and glitter decor. There’s a karaoke machine in one corner and an open bar in the other.

A loud cheer sounds from the crowd as Robin steps out into the open, fingers intertwined with those of a petite brunette with big square glasses sitting on her nose.

They get swallowed by a tidal wave of people, pulled from one hug into another, and while his eyes stay with them, Bucky feels a touch against his metal arm. (Y/N) wraps herself around him leans her head against his shoulder and stares lovingly at the couple before them.

“ I’m so glad she’s happy. I love her so much. “

“ She loves you too. “ he says.

And really how could anyone not?

A little while later, when the crowd has allowed them to breathe again, Robin and the brunette wander towards Bucky and (Y/N), matching smiles on their faces.

“ Buck, this is Charlie, Robin’s fiancee. Charlie, this is my friend Bucky. “

“ It’s so nice to meet you,” Charlie exclaims, a strong English accent dripping from her words. “ What in the world happened to your face? Are you okay? “

While Bucky smirks, (Y/N) flinches at those words and shrinks into herself a little.

“ Oh you know, funny story. Someone here was a little too excited about some red white and blue popsicles. “

Robin lets out a loud laugh “ Now that sounds like someone I know very well. “

“ They were shaped like Cap’s shield, okay. I thought it was funny and fitting. “

Charlie’s eyes move between the 3, a look of confusion settling on her features.

“ Why fitting? “

“ Oh babe, let me catch you up,” Robin says and steers Charlie in the direction of the bar.

The night flies by and for the first time in so long, Bucky doesn’t feel out of place. Not for a single moment. Even being surrounded by people he doesn’t know and while listening to music he doesn’t get. It’s nice, feeling like you belong.

Robin and Charlie have just finished their karaoke rendition of Don’t Stop Believing when a familiar voice echoes from the speakers.

“ Hello guys, my name is (Y/N). You may know me, I’m the maid of honor. I am responsible for this party — you’re welcome. Anyway, I guess it’s my turn to sing tonight but I can’t do this one alone. I’m gonna require my friend, Mr. James Buchanan Barnes up on this very stage with me. “

Oh no. Definitely no. Not in a million years. No w—

“ Because this one’s a duett. “

Her eyes meet his across the way, shining with amusement, mischief, affection. Even across the dimly lit roof, her sunshine smile seems to light up the entire night.

“ I’m not doing it, “ Bucky says and shakes his head as Robin slides up to his side.

“ C’moooon. “

“ Nope. I probably don’t even know the song. “

It’s like the universe wants to make a fool of him as in just that moment Bill Medley’s voice sounds through the night.

“ I know you know this song. “ Robin says and nudges his side “ come on don’t make her do this by herself. “

“ I — “ he looks at (Y/N) again, with her sunshine smile and those expressive eyes and the buttercream stain on her shirt. And he doesn’t see fear or pain or regret. All he ever sees when he looks at her is happiness and fun and laughter.

“ Ugh. Okay. Alright. “

Cheers follow him as he steps on stage and (Y/N) hands him the second mic. Though it’s supposed to be a duett, (Y/N) doesn’t really care and sings both parts with unfiltered joy and unapologetic passion. And while it takes a moment for him to warm up to it, Bucky can’t help but let her enthusiasm light a spark in him too and by the time the pre-chorus hits he joins her in singing their hearts out.

“ You're the one thing I can't get enough of. So I'll tell you something. This could be looooooove “

New York comes alive with the promise of a better tomorrow. One where Bucky feels like he belongs. To a place or a group of friends or a person. A tomorrow where he can laugh with a pretty girl, have food fights in a parking lot, and sing some silly song at the top of his lungs.

Maybe the song isn’t all wrong. Maybe he’s having the time of his life. And maybe, just maybe, he owes it to (Y/N).

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[spine-buster]

peaceful easy feeling ft. b.boeser | three

A/N: Thanks again for your positive feedback on this mini-series!  Please keep those canon questions coming as you guys know I loooove answering them to help build the canon!  This one is a short one but it will be made up for by the last two chapters.

CONTENT WARNING: parents with disease/sickness (Parkinson’s); swearing; sex; alcohol use; lots of emotions.

                                                                 *     *     *     *     *

Brock and Grace were having fun.  Actual, genuine, real fun.  Whenever they were together, they were smiling and laughing and kissing and having a good time.  They’d go out to eat at Vancouver’s best restaurants.  They’d take walks in parks or along the seawall.  They’d get coffee at cute little cafés and munch on bespoke cookies or donuts that would make Brock complain about extra hours in the gym.  They’d invite Elias and Svea with them and it would be great, because they were great, and they’d all just be constantly laughing.  Grace and Svea got closer – much closer.  Elias and Brock were tearing it up for the Canucks.  Grace and Svea would go to bars for a glass of wine before going to games together.  They’d cheer and clap and sing along with all the songs being blasted throughout the arena.

Fun.  Life was fun.  

***

“How do I bite it?!” Brock was incredulous at the size of the cupcake Grace got him.  It was bigger than his jaw could open.  Elias and Svea were already ready with their damn phones to film him.  “I can’t…” he tried to bring it up to his mouth.

“Just put the whole thing in your mouth!” Grace exclaimed.

“That’s what she said,” Elias mumbled, only to garner a disapproving mother look from Brock and a slap on the arm from Svea.  “What!  Isn’t that the joke?!”

“Don’t be crass,” Svea chastised before focusing her attention back on Brock.  “Just bite the thing, Brock.  Just…just stuff it in there,” he pretended to do the motion herself.

“Again, that’s what she said.”

Grace hit Elias too this time.  

***

“You can get us reservations to Hawksworth?” Svea asked in shock.  

Grace nodded casually, like it was the easiest thing in the world to get a reservation at Vancouver’s best and most exclusive restaurant.  “The Gillespie’s own the Rosewood Hotel Georgia.”

“You do?”

Grace nodded again before sucking back on an oyster.  “When do you want to eat there?”

“Oh, I – I don’t know.  Can I get back to you?”

“Of course!  Just let me know.”

“Wow Grace,” Svea said.  “You really do have the world at your fingertips.  Vancouver especially.”

Grace shrugged her shoulders.  “It’s a blessing and a curse.  I can’t go anywhere without running into someone that knows my dad or knows who I am and thinks they know me.  It’s even worse when they knew my dad a long time ago and only ask about how he’s doing with his Parkinson’s now.  Most of the time they don’t even truly care.  And I’d trade it all in, every single penny, if it meant my dad never got Parkinson’s.”

Svea couldn’t imagine living that kind of life.  She didn’t know how Grace did it – or Brock, for that matter.  She would be a sobbing mess on the floor every single day.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to be insensitive when I—”

“Oh God no.  No no no – you don’t need to apologize.  I just…” Grace paused, trying to collect her thoughts.  “I know how fortunate I am, believe me.  I just don’t think people know that – that I know I’m fortunate.  But Parkinson’s – any chronic illness – it really humbles you.  Most people don’t know what that’s like.  And like, thank God they don’t.  But they think they know.”

All Svea could do was nod her head and listen.

***

Whenever Brock sent a text that said ‘come over and watch a movie’ Grace knew what that really meant.  But instead of finding it lewd, she’d slather on some raspberry chapstick and be on her merry way to Brock’s apartment.

When they were done, and lying in bed together, with her head on his chest and her hair sprawled everywhere, that’s when the talking would begin.  “How’s your dad doing?”  “Are the new round of meds working?”  “Is he having more trouble getting up now?”  “What are the doctors saying?”  “How’s his memory?”  “How’s the swallowing?”  “Are the doctors recommending speech therapy?”  

“When I quit dance, my dad was so disappointed,” Grace revealed one night as Brock was running his hands through her hair.  “It was the only thing I was ever really, really good at.  I wasn’t the best in school.  I just didn’t get things the way other kids did.  And when I told him the reason, he made me promise I’d keep doing dance in some capacity.  I maybe wouldn’t do it super-competitively anymore with him driving me all around BC and flying me all over Canada and the US to attend competitions, but I’d still do it.  That’s why I teach at the Goh Ballet.  Like…I know I’m not the smartest girl in the world, but I like to think I have a big heart.  And I just hope that people see that.”

“I wear number six because it was my dad’s number,” Brock revealed too, one night when they were alone.  “I wanted…I wanted to make sure that if he wasn’t around, my career would still honour him in some way.  I want that to be my legacy…like, everything I do, I do for my dad.”

Grace nodded.  She completely understood.  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who knows and understands exactly what I’m going through,” she said.  “Do you think it was fate that brought us together at that meeting?”

Brock found himself nodding his head automatically.  “Of course,” he said softly.

***

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have you at the house for dinner, Brock, but our chef is on vacation,” Eliza Carmichael, Grace’s mom, smiled from across the table as she sipped on her glass of wine.  From beside her, her husband, Grace’s step-dad James kept perusing the menu, as did Grace’s two step-brothers, Jasper and Theo, who were seated at opposite heads of the table.  

“Oh that’s no problem at all,” he smiled politely, grabbing Grace’s hand underneath the table and squeezing it gently before putting it in his lap.  “I actually come here with the boys sometimes.  The food here is amazing.”

“It is, isn’t it?  James knows the head chef,” she said.  “Grace tells me you’re a hockey player.”

It was at that point that James put down his menu.  “Honey, he plays for the Vancouver Canucks.  We’ve been over this.”

Eliza rolled her eyes playfully before picking up her menu.  It was only at that point that Brock noticed the giant rock on her finger.  It was the size of his eyeball.  “Grace tells me you live in Shaughnessy,” he said, trying to make polite conversation.  “I hear that’s a beautiful neighbourhood.”

“Oh, it is.  Perfect place for the quiet life hockey player’s lead,” James joked.  Brock forced out a chuckle.

***

“I love this song!!!” Grace exclaimed as the DJ began to play some old school Rihanna.  She downed the rest of her drink and slapped the glass against the bar before grabbing Brock’s arm with one hand and Svea’s hand with the other, knowing that Svea would, on instinct, grab Elias’s arm and drag him to the dance floor too.

The club was completely unstuffy.  There were no girls dressed to the nines, no four-inch stiletto heels digging into Grace’s feet, no people showing up just to be seen in booths with bottle service.  It was completely unpretentious and that’s how Grace liked it.  Considering her lifestyle and her wealth, it was actually how she liked everything.  So when the DJ began playing pop songs, she couldn’t help but start dancing uncontrollably.  To his credit, Brock did too.  It was like he lost all his inhibitions and began moving his body in tune with the music.  Even Elias and Svea did, and Grace knew how…well, quiet they were.  This wasn’t their scene at all but they were having the time of their life dancing with each other, spinning each other around and moving to the beat of the music.  

For at least a night, Grace could forget.  She could forget how her parents used her to get back at one another during an awful divorce.  She could forget her mom re-married an equally as nice guy as her dad but became more pretentious as the years went on and the wealth accumulated.  She could forget that she made the decision to quit dancing professionally.  She could forget her dad had Parkinson’s.  For one night, everything was perfect.  Everything was fun.  Everything was how it should be.

***

“Fuuuuck, baby,” Brock groaned as he watched Grace climb on top of him, leaning forward so she could press his breasts up against his face.  He immediately took the opportunity to place wet, open mouth kisses all over her breasts, kissing down to her nipples before taking them in his mouth.  He could feel her grab his cock and lower herself onto it, sighing at the feeling of him filling her up.  “Feel good?”

“You always feel amazing,” she smiled, her hair falling around her face.  “That’s why I can’t stop fucking you.”

Brock chuckled, a cocky smile on his face as he reached up and brought Grace’s face down so he could kiss her and stick his tongue down her throat.  “Ride me, baby,” he mumbled against her lips.

Grace began rocking her hips back and forth, her body moving so expertly and so in tune with Brock’s.  Almost immediately, she began to moan, and Brock grabbed her hands and intertwined their fingers so she’d have something to brace against.  Brock was in a trance – as he usually was when Grace was riding.  He was completely and utterly transfixed by her in every sense of the word, and in every way; from the hair on her head to the red nail polish on her toes.  

“God, I fucking love you, Grace.”

The words had barely escape Brock’s mouth before he realized the magnitude of what he said, how he said it, and when he’d fucking said it.  God, he was such a fucking idiot!!!!!  During sex?!  Really?!  Way to live the cliché Brock Boeser!  Way to be a fucking idiot and—

“I fucking love you too, Brock,” he heard Grace say, a smile adorned on her face.  The both of them giggled, and couldn’t stop giggling for a while even though she was still riding him.  It was miraculous.  “Way to say it for the first time while I’m riding you,” she joked.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he said.  

“You’re lucky I love you, because that’s such an amateur move, Brock.”

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 15/?

Word Count: 3k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your Name.

Thinking about making parts longer so that I can at least finish a semester of Jason knowing Y/N before I do fic 2 of this continuity. Give it a better name, probably. I dunno

Warnings: Eludes to sex, Takes about Injuries, Mentions of Trauma, Refusal to acknowledge pain, Swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

She could find herself lost in the way Jason walked for hours. He thought she was asleep when he threw on his slightly ripped boxers so he could walk to his desk. She didn’t know what it was that drew her in, maybe it was just the way that even after he had been stabbed that he could act like he owned the room.

She thought he was really, really, attractive. Like, really.  She couldn't think of times where she wouldn’t get lost in how he looked. His personality made it a lot better, too. She really liked how he chose to carry his personality, how he chose to carry himself. 

He turned to his bed after plugging in his laptop, it would take a while to charge, when he noticed she was staring.

“Your eyes will dry out looking at something so hot, Y/N. I’d be careful,” he joked, letting a large smile slip by.

“I’ll need heat-resistant goggled to keep this relationship going, damn.”

“Bruce can buy you some.”

“I think after his freak-out bout our situation, he wouldn’t be keen on that one, darling.”

He smiled at her, “What makes you say that? He clearly likes you.”

“That doesn't mean he wants to spend that much money on me.”

“I would spend that much money on you,” he grabbed the water bottle sitting at his desk and twisted the cap off.

“You have spent that much money on me.”

“Pretty girl, gets money, gets the pretty man,” he said before seeming to chug the entire bottle.

“You would probably find a way to drown while drinking water, honestly.”

“Ha, ha, baby. Funny.”

“You don’t have to tell me I’m funny for me to know I’m funny, Jay,” she joked, “Are you coming back to bed?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What the fuck, man.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I have work to do for Wayne Enterprises,” he said.

“I just want to cuddle,” she jokingly wined at him.

“You’re a temptress, but I really have to do this.”

“Doesn’t your laptop take time to charge?” she asked.

“Yes it does, why?”

“Come here then.”

He sighed and looked at his laptop before smiling and coming over to his bed, “You’re lucky it’s charging slowly today, baby.”

He climbed into the bed beside her, she thought he forgot that she was naked but he didn’t.  He knew she was naked, he just didn’t want anything from her, he didn’t want a ‘fun night’ with his girlfriend, he just wanted the cuddling on a Thursday morning.

She had a headache, a massive one, and Jason noticed her wincing a lot and holding her head, he had seen these signs before, in Time Drake, his baby brother, who had a severe caffeine addiction.

“You alright?” he asked, nuzzling his nose into her shoulder.

“Headache,” she answered and winced again.

“Caffeine or medication?” he asked, trying to make certain that is was caffeine and not anything else.

“Caffeine.”

“I can always make you some coffee, Y/N.”

“If you're willing to leave this bed, could you?” she asked.

“I could, I could. I don’t want to leave this moment, but I guess” he said, sarcastically.

“I’ll owe you indefinitely,” she said as he got up and walked over to his dresser, scavenging for a pair of pants so he didn’t walk downstairs and possibly expose himself to his siblings.

“Do you want anything else while I’m down there?” he asked while putting on his pants, “I can always make you breakfast,” he said. 

“No, no, the coffee is more than enough, I swear.”

“You just want to spend more time with me, you simp.”

“That is true, that is so true.”

“I’ll be back in bed before you know it,” he walked over to her and kissed her forehead, taking in the bedhead and the way her eyes drowsed when she was tired, “Don’t pass out on me.”

“I can’t make promises I may not keep.”

“Then just keep me positive.”

She laughed and he walked out of the room. You could feel the way he was giddy about her as he walked out, from the way his grin wouldn’t fall to the way he bothered to get dressed, even if it was just pants.

No one thought they’d see the day that Jason Todd, the Jason Todd, would walk out of a room with a girl in it with pants on.

“Master Todd,” Alfred said as Jason walked into the kitchen, “One of these days, I ask of you, you and Miss Y/N should eat breakfast with the rest of us. And, it’s nearly 10:00, sir. You should be up sooner.”

“I can always count on you to parent me, Alfred,” Jason joked, “One of these days she and I will come down for breakfast, I swear,” he turned on the coffee machine.

“You don’t drink coffee, Master Todd.”

“No, I don’t. But she does.”

“My god, you’re whipped!” Tim exclaimed at his big brother.

“You’ll understand one day when someone you like this much is in your bed, Tim.”

“You didn’t even call me on my shit, who are you and what did you do with my brother?” Tim joked.

“I sold him to the devil in exchange for his rocking body and a beautiful girlfriend, moron.”

“How is your stab wound, Master Todd?” Alfred asked.

“Painful,” he said before looking in his foresight for Alfred’s reaction, when Alfred frowned, it broke Jason’s heart, he loved Alfred, “It’s gotten better, I swear. But it’s not ideal, either.”

“Master Richard says he should have watched you closer.”

“I don’t think he could have stopped it.”

“I could have tried,” Dick chimed in.

“Have you been listening in?” Tim asked when he turned to Dick.

“Are you that surprised? But Jase, you could have died, I could have done better, I could have stopped it if I just-”

“How many times do I have to say it isn’t your fault, Dickie?” Jason cut him off.

“I just promised to always protect you, and I failed my job.”

“You’re starting to sound like Dad, Dick,” Jason joked, trying to liven up the mood and stop his brother from crying. He needed to just distract them all from it, he didn’t want to deal with it, to talk about it all.

“Jase,” Dick paused.

“Dick, c’mon. I’m not dead. No one died. We’re all okay.”

“Jay, he has a point, no one is ready to lose you again, man,” Tim jumped in.

“To say the least,” Alfred finished.

“I love you guys, I do,” he said as he poured Y/N’s coffee, “And I get you’re scared that I’m going to die again,” he paused and sighed, “I don’t really know what to say, really.”

“You said really twice,” Tim joked.

“Listen here you little, literally, shit,” Jason retorted, holding his hand above Tim’s head like he was comparing heights, “I’ve enjoyed this, really. I can’t give up family bonding for anything, but you guys understand-”

“Are you ditching us for the pretty woman?” Dick asked.

“You would do the same, Dick.”

“Because I’m serious about Barbara.”

“And?” he joked as he walked off and back to his room.

Opening his door, he saw her, half-awake, laying in his bed. She had gotten up at some point to put on one of his shirts, it was cute. He liked the fact that she was wearing his shirt. He stared for a bit.

“Whatcha doing, Romeo?” she joked.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked as he walked towards his nightstand and put down the coffee before looking at her.

“Yeah, it is. If you mind, frankly, I don’t care.”

“Ha, ha. I don’t mind,” he said as he crawled back into bed with her while she sat up to drink the coffee, “Hope that makes it a little nicer to be here.”

“It’s already nice to be here.”

“I’m sure the headache made it suck a little, though.”

“Well yes but no.”

“Yes but no is my personal motto.”

“Is it now?”

“Well, ‘Should you do this, Jason? Dad will be mad.’ followed by yes but no is literally everything I do, ever.”

“Is this how telling your dad that we’re dating went?” she joked.

“Oh yeah, he just hates you,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

“If your partner’s parents don’t hate you then are you even their partner?” she retorted.

He laughed and buried his face into her chest. She laughed between sips of her coffee and she stroked his hair. She thought he liked it when she did this, and he did, she was right. He could feel each of her fingers running through his hair, massaging his head. If love languages are a thing, she could speak his fluently.

She was scared, scared that the attacks against her were related, scared that her friends weren’t going to get out of jail, scared that her escapade of drinking had brought her back to alcoholism, there was a taste she could never get off her tongue, the cravings she couldn’t quench. And it scared her. She hadn’t been this far down in a while, mentally. 

It never seemed like the moment that she could bring that up to Jason, her fears. She wanted to open up about it but she just couldn’t.

Jason wanted to bring up the nightmares to her, but it was never the moment, He wanted to open up to her about it but he too, just couldn’t.

When she finished her coffee, it was unfortunately the time that Jason had to work, she audibly groaned and sighed when he left her side. He laughed and kissed her before he left the bed, and she, jokingly, tried to pull him back onto the bed.

Mundane life, day-to-day life was stuff like this, partners leaving because they had jobs, school, volunteering, extra-curricular activities, anything. It was the sad reality that they both would have to accept, especially if Y/N was going to reenroll in her dance lessons, which she had been thinking about. She hadn’t been deciding anything, she was scared.

Was it the distance that scared her? Probably. Was it the fact that she could fall from grace? Yes. She didn’t want to fall, she wanted to climb and climb harder and progress. She was a high-achiever. She had already fell, too. She fell hard.

She remembered waking up in a hospital in grade 10, after a night of partying, on the verge of death from alcohol poisoning. She was sent to rehab but relapsed hard. She had already fell, she had fallen so hard but tried to rebuild herself so hard as well. No one, but her parents, knew about the hospital visit, she had hidden it.

He was working away, typing on his laptop when she noticed that he was wincing.

“Baby?” she asked.

“Yes?” he said, through pain.

“Are you alright?”

“Just a little bit of pain, don’t worry.”

She got up and draped her arms behind him on the chair, “Doesn’t seem like a little bit, Jay.”

He grabbed her arm and rested his hand there while the other worked still, “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Do you have pain medication?” she whispered in his ear, trying to prove that she wasn’t going to let it go.

“I do, in the cabinet in the bathroom, why? Are you in pain?”

“If I asked you to take some so I don’t have to see you wince, will you?” she said while she walked towards the bathroom and dug through his cabinet.

“Baby, c’mon, please,”

“Shhhh,” she said as she found the pain meds and walked back, “Take some?”

“C’mon now,” he said.

“No, don’t humor me, say yes or no,” she said.

He grabbed the pill bottle and read the dosage instructions as she  crawled behind him in the chair and rested her head on his back. He laughed slightly when she did and she could feel him laugh. The way his muscles contorted as he laughed. It was something she loved. He took the recommended dosage when she glanced at his stitches. They looked to be healing, but she wasn’t a doctor, she didn’t know if they were.

She placed her hand on top of his stitches, hoping she could just trace the outline of the scar, but she was watching his face, hoping that he wouldn’t wince if she tried. He smiled though,  something about her even trying to comfort him brought him joy.

He didn’t feel worthy of her worry, her love, her kindness, but he enjoyed every minute of it because he still didn’t know if the pressure of it all, his life, if it would break her. He didn’t want it all to come crashing down, ever. He wanted this to last at least long enough that he could consider saying ‘I love you’  to her.

Every other girl would have run at the moment he was stabbed though, maybe because they had sense, maybe because she didn’t think through it all. He didn’t think she was ‘Not like other girls’ just because he knew that mindset is fucking trash, thank to his sisters just rambling about it at family game night after Tim said it, on accident. Boy, that kid got his ass handed to him by the girls.

He was sure that Y/N probably thought the same about it, in spite of the pick-me songs she’d end up playing when she was bored. They were just good songs, he was sure she didn’t really think that bringing other women, even men, down was a good thing. if she did, who knows how his sisters and brothers would feel about her when they found out.

But there he sat, and Y/N hadn't run. She had embraced the tragedy with open arms and expected it to slow down. His life was face-paced, a tale of a boy running too far and into the sky, and she sat through it with him. He would tap and type on his laptop, trying to not move and disturb her as she relaxed. 

Doing work was not exactly the activity a new couple would want to do when neither of them had anything else to do, but it needed to be done or Bruce would hand Jason his ass in an argument about work ethic. Jason had work ethic, and Bruce had let him rest but when Jason was showing signs of recovery, he started telling Jason to ease back into work. So, Jason wrote essays defending projects Bruce wanted to do to the board. 

Bruce didn’t need Jason to defend him, but if Jason could get the words out, normally no board members would fight Bruce on the decision anymore. And Bruce paid Jason handsomely for these essays, because Bruce did not like the fighting and arguing he’d get from the board.

But the Batman-Patented Stare would follow if someone continued to hate Bruce’s plans. It was a watered-down version of it, but it was still probably the most intimidating thing that his kids and teammates have ever experienced.

Jason hope that the relationship between him and Y/N would continued even if Bruce gave her the Batman Stare. She seemed like the type of girl who would end up laughing in Bruce’s face if he did it to her.

She was probably going to receive it after that fight Jason and him had about protection, because she was also partly to blame about that.

The hours ticked by as Jason wrote to defend his dad from the board, and before he and Y/N knew it, it was dinner time at the Wayne Manor, and Y/N was invited. Great, Jason thought, I guess we’re going to find out how she’s going to deal with the stare.

“Just a fair warning, baby, my dad’s probably going to attempt to lecture you if you join us for dinner,” Jason said as he got dressed.

“He can try his best, I’ll give him that,” she laughed as she threw on the same clothes she had from the day before.

“You need to start bringing an over-night bag here, damn,” he joked.

“Remind me next time I come over and I’ll at least bring a second change of clothes in my schoolbag.”

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

They all sat down for dinner, and Bruce started his parenting attempt, “Jason, Y/N,” he said and both of them stared at him, “You both know what you did was irresponsible-”

“Everything I do is irresponsible, Bruce, no offense,” Y/N joked.

“Look, I’m not going to have you two having sex-”

“They’re having sex?!” Damien and Tim exclaimed with fake disgust, YN laughed.

“Could any of you take this seriously?”

“Sorry, sorry, playboy billionaire, I’ll pretend you’re my dad for a second,” YN joked.

“You’re going to be a pain in my ass, huh?”

“Yeah, probably. Sorry about that, genuinely, but its not my fault your son picked me.”

“I just need you two to be safe if  you’re going to continue to have sex in my house,” Bruce said, exasperated.

“We’ll just have sex at my house then,” Y/N joked again.

Bruce gave her The Stare at this moment, and she got startled a little bit. Everyone paused because she literally jumped a bit at The Stare.

“Dad, I think you genuinely scared her a bit,” Dick said.

“Did I jump? Oh my god,” she laughed, “I’m sorry,” she laughed harder, “I wasn’t expecting it!”

“Dad, c’mon, she’s a guest,” Jason said.

“No, no don’t worry about me, seriously. He can discipline me all he wants, honestly. If he’s nice about it, I’ll listen, even if I throw 69 jokes his way.”

“Nice,” Tim retorted.

“Really, a sex joke? Right after I tried to parent you?” Bruce questioned, “You really are the perfect match for Jason, my god.”

“You didn’t already realize that from the flipping off the press and her head-butting incident?” Stephanie added in, mocking Bruce.

“I, in no way, feel remorse or shame about either of those events.”

“You flipped off the press?” Cass asked.

“I did, I did. They can’t stop me, no one can.”

“I can,” Jason joked.

“You can keep thinking that.”

Everyone laughed. Whether or not Bruce wanted to admit it, he liked Y/N and hoped that Jason and her were going to last a while.

[thirstyforlulu]

Alucard x Reader: For Your Convenience Chapter 6

All the rooms that were occupied were marked by a special sign hanging from the door. The signs had the occupant’s name written on it so everyone knew where they belonged and no one got confused. They were all in the same hallway too, so you wouldn’t have to walk far to check on them.

At the end of the hallway, sitting on a small serving table was a tray with several glasses surrounding a bottle of wine and a pitcher of water. You were worried you wouldn’t be able to lift it properly, but when you looked down you realized the serving table had wheels.

“Oh thank goodness,” You sighed, picturing how Alucard would have reacted had you dropped the tray.

When you gave it a push, it moved along with very little noise, not even an annoying squeak from the wheels caused by going years without being used. Approaching the first door, you set the cart aside to allow you to open the door if need be and raised your hand to knock.

“Housekeeping, is everything alright?” You asked.

“Yes thank you!” A male voice replied.

“May I interest you in a drink?”

“No thank you.”

“Alright, have a good night,” You said, taking the cart and moving on to the next door.

This door’s sign was labeled “Luke” a name which you recognized from earlier. Once again you knocked and were about to begin your greeting when the door opened, startling you.

Luke was standing at the door dressed in a pair of nighttime underwear with nothing covering his upper body. His hair wasn’t as neatly combed, probably from changing clothes or getting into bed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He said in a friendly, playful tone.

“It’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

“In truth, I smelled you coming. Your blood smells incredible,” He, you guessed, complimented.

Noticing the nervous look on your face, he quickly changed the subject.

“I just wanted to apologize personally for my brother’s behavior. He can get a little reckless sometimes when faced with someone so beautiful.”

That time you understood the compliment. Blushing you looked back towards the tray, gesturing at the two drink options.

“W-Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, but I’m afraid you don’t have it on your little cart~”

You were so nervous, not knowing what to expect. The ringing in your ears completely blocked out the sound of the neighbor’s door opening.

“Keep it in your pants pervert,” Jan groaned at his brother.

“Stay out of this Jan.”

“Sorry, you brought me into this when you called me reckless.”

The two brothers glared at each other from their open doors. Caught in the middle of it, you didn’t know what to say or do.

“Although, I was going to ask our sweet little y/n for a little room service~ Just something to help me fall asleep,” Jan cooed, gracing your chin with his finger.

“Quiet you idiot!”

“My apologies gentlemen, but I’m afraid I must move on to the other guests. Can I interest either of you in a glass of wine or water before I leave?” You spoke up, coming up with an excuse for you to slip away on the fly.

Luke took a glass of wine and Jan took water. They both shot angry looks at each other before shutting their doors.

The next room contained a female vampire who kindly asked you for another pillow. At the end of the hallway was the linen closet, so after a quick detour you returned with the extra bedding. She thanked you kindly and asked for a glass of wine which you happily poured for her.

“Thank you darling,” She said before shutting her door.

Next was a male vampire, then Seras and Pip.

“Housekeeping,” You began but before you could say anything else Pip opened the door.

“Hello again y/n,” He said with a smile.

“Hello Pip, is everything alright with your room?”

“It’s perfect,” Seeing the cart he grinned. “My, my, more wine? Ours is a most gracious host,” He laughed.

“May I interest you two in some?”

“Of course, two glasses please,” He replied, leaning relaxed against the door frame.

Once they were made you handed him both drinks which he happily took.

“I hope you and miss Seras enjoy your drinks.”

“If I let her have any,” He winked, shutting the door.

With no other rooms left on that side of the hall, you switched to the other and began heading the opposite direction. After another random vampire you hadn’t met, you got to Integra’s room.

“Housekeeping, is everything alright?”

“Yes,” She replied blankly.

“May I offer you a drink?”

Without replying she opened the door, standing there in a pale blue nightgown. She picked up the bottle of wine and began pouring herself a glass before you could offer. Awkwardly, you stood there as she did your job, when she was done, she took the glass and begin to swirl it in her hand.

“Thank you again for helping me out,” You said to break the silence.

“Think nothing of it. I’ve told you, I suspect you’ll bring me a great deal of entertainment.”

“But still, I appreciate it. You’re one of the few people who’ve been nice to me since I got here, it’s refreshing.”

“Do not let my kindness go to waste,” She said grimly, taking a sip from her glass.

“Excuse me?”

“What I’m saying is, be careful. These vampires are dangerous, ruthless, they will show no mercy. Now that they know your blood is superb, there’s no telling what they might do to get to you.”

“B-But wouldn’t Alucard protect me?” You said, your fingers shaking.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself if anyone came after you. They’d drain every drop of blood from your veins without a second thought. Unlike Alucard, none of them would show any type of restraint in order to preserve their food source.

“Would he?” She asked, raising her brow.

Not knowing what else to say, you put your head down and said “Goodnight”. The next room was Walter’s who took a glass of water without much conversation. He had a look on his face the entire time, one of those smug faces like the ones poker players get when they have an excellent hand.

He was the last person you needed to check on, so once you had said goodnight you returned the cart to its place at the end of the hall. You had not been given any other instructions other than to make sure all the guests were comfortable in their rooms.

After waiting a moment to make sure no one had any other concerns, you headed back toward your room. The skimpy maid clothes were growing more and more uncomfortable with each step and you couldn’t wait to remove them. Your pajamas were practically calling your name as you rounded another corner.

Suddenly, two hands wrapped around your shoulders and a chin rested on the crook of your neck.

“Y/N,” Alucard whispered, pressing against you.

“I did what you asked sir,” You tried, hoping that was all he was there for.

“Yes, you made such a perfect little maid for me, but watching you serving them all made my mind start to wander.”

“Wander? What do you mean?”

“Well, I began to think about how you’d react if I slipped my hand under your skirt like this,” He said, taking the hand that wasn’t around your throat and sliding it down your body till he reached the skirt.

Slipping under the hem, he reached up to feel your stomach right above your underwear line. His hand was ice-cold, chilling your flushed skin almost immediately.

“So warm, so full of life, it drives me mad knowing the incredible elixir that hides within your veins,” He said, placing a kiss on your neck.

You expected his fangs to dig in, but he merely sucked, leaving a bright hickey that’d last for days probably. His hand moved further up, pulling the skirt with it and exposing your lower body. If anyone were to come wandering through the hallway they’d get an eyeful they weren’t expecting.

Quickly you reached down to grab his hand. As hard as you could you pulled him away, but his hand didn’t budge, the only reaction you got was a laugh.

“Nice try, beautiful,” he said, twisting the hand on your stomach, so he could take yours.

His thumb rubbed across the back of your palm, caressing your skin.

“So weak, you don’t stand a chance. If I wanted to, I could snap your neck right here-”

“Then why don’t you?” You hissed in a momentary burst of boldness.

Alucard’s grip loosened in confusion. He had not expected you to reply with anything more than whimpers or cries. Your boldness was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It caused a reaction in him that he was not used to. That fight, that spark of life within you, he loved seeing it come out, and he needed to see more of it.

“Why don’t I? Because of our deal. I own you, and I’m not big on breaking my toys,” He replied, taking your hand and lowering it down to between your legs.

“I am not your toy, you don’t own me!” You continued to fight, despite the pleasure you felt as he manipulated your hand.

On your back, you could feel his growing erection. It pressed against you longingly, trying to tear through its cloth prison.

“Oh? You truly are a peculiar human, fighting me while I hold your life in my hands. Tell me the truth, do you like it when I’m rough with you?” He whispered, punctuating his words with a thrust of his hips.

You didn’t want to admit it but having him so close was starting to turn you on. A thought crossed your mind, that you should give up and beg him to fuck you, that you should fall to the ground and please him to your heart’s content, but you forced yourself to ignore your own growing desire.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want to believe I can’t resist you because you’re just so strong and handsome to make you feel less repulsive!”

There was no turning back now. This outburst would likely earn you some strange new punishment, but you refused to go easy. You refused to be a pushover, you decided that back when you first tried to use your body to save yourself.

“Naughty bitch~ You say that, and yet I can feel how your legs are trembling.”

You blinked, and when you opened your eyes you were back in your room with Alucard standing at the door.

“Now sit here and think about what you did, just remember to keep it down, so the guests don’t hear,” He teased.

You wanted to shoot back at him, but he had closed the door before you could reply. He was insane if he thought you were going to pleasure yourself after that. You promised yourself that you had no sexual desires for him, trying to deny the intense heat that still burned in your stomach.

[colorfullfalls]

Me & You- part 2

Summary: Harry and Y/N have been dating for a few months when Michael invites them over for a small dinner party.

Chocolate cake, double decker, vanilla frosting with the words “Let’s be fucking happy” on top sat upon the large marble counter. Old friends leaned around it discussing memories and ideas, laughing often and smiling even more.

Shoes messily scattered Michael’s walk in room where his guests hastily discarded them- caring more about hugs than shoe placement. Coats were thrown over the bench beside the door, the top two close to toppling over on the floor. Michael and Crystal didn’t mind at the hint of a mess. In fact no one even really noticed, besides Y/N.

She bent over at the hip as she grabbed matching pairs of shoes and lined them up together neatly on the soft black rug. She hummed in satisfaction when the last pair was set in place. Her eyes caught sight of the coats and she moved to fix those into place too.

Truth was, she didn’t give a damn about the messiness of Mike’s house. Well she did, but that wasn’t what her issue was. Calum brought Maya to this stupid get together and she didn’t want to be around them just yet.

Over the months Calum and Y/N got back into the groove they experienced most of their lives, but this time without the romantic agony of pinning after the other helplessly at opposite intervals. The pair was good, but Y/N still didn’t really know Maya. Truth was she was too embarrassed after how Maya first saw her talk to Calum. That was the first impression and it was a rotten one.

Maya seemed nice and of course there wasn’t bad blood, but Y/N still felt like an outsider as she moved to organize the coats better. Maya and Calum came to these dinner parties in the months that Y/N was leaning on Harry for support.

The boys still invited Y/N to get together the whole time but she took the time away that she felt she needed to properly move on. And she loved the boys but the time away allowed her to heal and create a wonderful bond with Harry.

“Having fun down there?”

Y/N sheepishly set the coats down and craned her head upwards to look at the person standing above her.

Luke.

Y/N awkwardly laughed, letting go of the coats and letting her hands fall lamely into her lap. She was caught trying to distance herself from the group.

“Y/N, why are you in here organizing our belongings when you could be in the kitchen having wine and a good ole time?” He joked, blue eyes offering true friendship, consideration, and kindness.

Luke was always so freaking kind, just a really good friend all around.

“I don’t fit in anymore.” She mumbled in embarrassment, “I feel like... I don’t know, I was away for so long that I lost my spot.”

Luke sighed as he struggled to navigate his lanky body to sit with his knees up to his chest on the floor across from her. His back rested against the wall comfortably.

“Y/N, you’re our sister: we love you and you’ll always be one of us.. are we doing something particular to make you feel like this?”

Y/N shrugged, playing with the fray string on her favorite black and gray sweater. A sweater that Harry bought her the other day when she said she needed one. She kept slipping money in his wallet for it but he always caught her and demanded she take it back. Truth was, Harry spoiled her rotten.

“Not specifically. It’s not even your fault. I just feel like you guys have a groove now and I’m messing it up. It’s silly.”

“It’s not silly at all.” Luke’s hand grasped onto her knee and gave a comforting squeeze, “I’m glad you came tonight. We’re glad.”

Y/N smiled, nodding her head. “Okay.”

“Let’s go back into the kitchen.” He helped her stand and together they walked back to the kitchen.

Michael was laughing as he leaned over the counter, Crystal was rubbing his back lovingly as she giggled along with him. Calum was sitting on a barstool with Maya leaning against his left side, her arm wrapped around his neck, playing with the little tuffs of hair. Ashton and Kaykay were painting digging around in the fridge. Sierra turned when she heard the pair walk in and a charming smile graced her lips.

“There you are.” Sierra said, announcing the new entry into the kitchen.

Y/N blushed as she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall across from the counter, “I was organizing the shoes...”

Luke laughed, “Yeah she was, and the coats. Little nerd.” He pushed her and she fell into the wall. She smiled slightly as she pushed away his hands.

“We thought maybe Harry finally showed up.” Ashton said, turning from the fridge with a can of Pepsi in his hands. Kaykay grabbed the can from him and opened it, taking a sip and grinning.

“Nope, he should be here soon though. He was working out a song with Sarah.” Y/N explained, shuffling over to stand between Sierra and Crystal.

Crystal patted Y/N back as she walked over. The girls were really kind and understanding through out her trying to get over Calum. They would always invite her to girls nights and would call her regularly to check in and to distract her from the heart break. And they were her biggest supporters when they discovered that Harry and her were an item.

“Sarahs the drummer, right?” Cal asked, looking right into her eyes.

“Yeah, she’s an amazing drummer. And an even cooler person.”

“She seems so. One time I visited for a show and the guards wouldn’t let me backstage and she recognized me. Took me with her. She’s super nice.” Michael recalled the memory.

“Ha, me at your shows. One time the guard called me a groupie and wouldn’t let me in for the first half of your show until the members of Hey Violet realized I was missing. That was some bullshit.. but going back to Sarah, she’s honestly the best.”

“Oi, you can date her then.”

Harry stood in the doorway, two bottles of wine resting comfortable in his hands. His smug grin made him all the more attractive as he gazed into his girlfriends eyes.

Y/N felt the weight of the world fall off her shoulders as she took him in. He was so fucking beautiful. His jeans and gray hoodie looked casual and so domestic. She wanted to curl into him and explain that he made her feel more herself than when she was with anyone.

“Bout time you showed up with that wine.” Crystal said, moving around everyone to grab the two bottles as Mike grabbed the glasses from the top shelf.

Harry walked behind Y/N and slid his arms over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead and leaning his chin against her head. Her nose took in the natural smell of Harry, closing her eyes momentarily to let it settle the nerves.

“How’d it go at the studio?” She quietly muttered, leaning slightly against his tattooed arms. The very arms that were almost like home.

“Swell. We got most of the music written, I think you’d love the feel of it. Sarah made sure the rhythm was sturdy and it ties it all together.” He explained, nodding a thank you at Crystal as he bent over Y/N to grab her and him a glass of wine.

“That’s great, Har. I wish you’d let me hear it..” Y/N grabbed the glass and took a sip.

Harry snorted, taking a sip as well, “You will. When it’s finished, dork. Already told ya that.”

“Mi mi mi mi mi” she mocked, elbowing him lightly in the ribs, “all I hear when you talk.”

Maya burst into laughter, wine falling down her chin- hand coming up to cup it from falling on the floor. Calum smiled in confusion as she grabbed her a napkin.

“Y/N, you kill me. Your sass is unmatched.” She said, wiping her mess up. Maya smiled towards her and Y/N felt herself shooting one back.

“Yeah, it’s bloody endearing until it’s aimed at you.” Y/N knew Harry was bluffing because he was in love with everything about her. She knew this because he only told her every day.

“Imagine how we feel.” Ash deadpanned.

“You should feel lucky that you got to know me all of these years, and especially since I put up with your boyish bullshit for years while on tour. A moment of peace never existed.”

Ashton blushed, crossing his arms, “Yeah, yeah. Rub it in some more that you took care of us like a mom.”

“I’d say so. You guys would crawl in my bunk when you were home sick.” Y/N said, finishing her wine in one big gulp, “play with my hair, Y/N. Rub my back, Y/N. Talk about home, please, Y/N/N.”

“Wow, thanks for fucking exposing our manly composures in front of our women!” Michael yelled, throwing someone’s IPhone charger at her.

Harry’s reflexes must’ve kicked in because his hand grasped the thick cord before it could come in contact with his lover’s face. She hummed in appreciation, slipping her hand under his sweater and rubbing her thumb over his arm.

“Babe, we are well aware that you guys are softies. She didn’t expose shit. I’m sure she could if you really wanted her to-“

Before Crystal could finish all the boys were quickly shouting out no. Y/N knew the darkest dirtiest, most horridly embarrassing moments of them and they rather not share those right now.

“What’s with the cake?” Harry asked as he set his wine glass down and moved away from Y/N to get a better look at it. He chuckled in amusement as he read the lettering upon the creamy frosting.

“A lot is happening in our lives, and I figured we could just take a night to celebrate our success, happiness, friendship, and creativity. You’re all beautiful and deep souls that I’m glad to have the pleasure of knowing.” Sierra said, wrapping her arms around one of Luke’s.

Sierra’s words were genuine and Y/N felt emotional. She was dumb to think that she wasn’t loved anymore by her friend group. They were good, loyal people that saw her heart and adored her as she was. Awkward tension between her and Cal for a few months wouldn’t ruin the unconditional bond. She felt guilty for pushing herself back in the first place. It wasn’t fair to the group and especially not Calum and Maya.

Y/N should’ve been honest about her feelings. Calum deserved to have known and instead it blew up in her face. She was attempting to shelter herself but her lack of actions was really what wounded her.

Shit worked in crazy way. First heartbreak and then a euphoric relationship with Harry motherfucking Styles? Y/N knew things worked out in the way it was meant to. And she felt bad that so much time was wasted when she could’ve gotten to still see Calum and created a friendship with Maya.

Y/N’s eyes wandered to Calum’s as cheering of concurrent glee filled the kitchen. His brown eyes held the upmost love as his lips quirked into a small smile. He made a kissy face and she let out a content sigh.

Kissy face was their signal of saying “I love you, you’re my best friend.”

It was created when they first started touring and they were embarrassed to say it in front of the boys. The action was used at the most important times when sometimes the words wouldn’t mean as much as the mere gesture.

Y/N made a kissy face back, feeling her lips tremble a bit from trying not to cry from the emotions of relief and joy flood through her veins.

“Cut this bitch up! I wanna slice. The one on that corner? Fuck yeah. Dibs.” Ash said, poking his finger in it to seal the spoken claim.

Calum laughed, dropping his head into his hand. Y/N playfully rolled her eyes at the duo. Ashton could blink and Calum would find it hilarious. The two men shared a beautiful companionship. Y/N knew that she was calums best friend, but after her was Ashton followed closely by Roy, Luke, and Mike tied.

“Nasty.” Harry teased, “you gonna have some?” He asked the woman trapped again in his loving embrace.

“Yep, are you?”

Harry snorted, “My love, you underestimate me. Fuck, it looks so good, but not as good as you do all the time.”

He grinned when she rolled her eyes, “Shut the fuck up and get your cake.”

A few hours later and the group switched to hangout in the living room. Board games were brought out along with wii games. Harry, Crystal, Luke and Sierra played Mario cart while Maya, Michael, Ash and Kay Kay played Sorry. Y/N and Calum watched in amusement.

Harry cursed at Luke as he got hit with a banana peel, “Fucking hell, Hemings.”

Calum shifted so that he could pull the cigarette pack from his pocket along with his beloved blue lighter. His eyes glanced to the balcony before he nudged the woman beside him.

“Y/N, wanna join me for a smoke?”

She knew what he meant. Not for her to actually smoke, but to talk alone for a few minutes while everyone was busy.

She nodded.

Y/N figured it would be chilly so she grabbed her jacket- well it was Harry’s that she loved to wear. Together they made their way onto the balcony of Michael’s house. She wrapped the material of her boyfriends coat close to her, slipping her hands into the pockets.

“Glad you came?” Cal asked, flicking his lighter three times before the flame stayed. The cigarette caught the light and he brought it to his plump lips.

“Yeah. Feels right to be back with you all... I’m so sorry that I hid from you guys. So fucking childish of me.”

Calum shook his head, “No, no don’t even apologize, bub. None of us blame you. And to be honest it’s partly my fault.”

Y/N scoffed, hands gripping the railing to ground herself, “It’s not.”

They sat in silence, not wanting to upset each other and start a fight that was pointless. Calum flicked ashes over the railing, his other hand not holding his cig was running through his hair.

Y/N crossed her arms, pulling the hood up over her head to cover her ears. Soft material swallowed her whole, providing a safety blanket.

“You and Harry- you just fit. I’ve never seen you act like that anyone. It was obvious that you felt sorta awkward but the second he walked in, you were back to being our Y/N.” Cal spoke, taking a hit.

Y/N shrugged, “I dunno; he’s like my comfort person now. Probably because it was just the two of us for so long. But I’m content with him.” Her eyes drifted to gaze in at the window. His brown curls could slightly be seen from the bulk of the couch.

“You love him?”

Y/N blinked in surprise, “I do love him. He’s...”

Calum chuckled at her lack of words, “Difficult to describe the intense feeling into lousy English words, huh?”

She blushed but meekly nodded, “Something like that. I imagine you know the feeling?”

Calum put out his cigarette and pulled his jacket closer to him, “Yeah. I’m not talking about Maya here though. Well, not yet. Im falling in love with her, but Y/N you’re my absolute favorite person in the world. You’re my family in ever sense of the meaning. Words can’t explain how sorry I am that I didn’t realize how you felt and that I hurt you.”

She stood up and pulled her best friend into a hug. His arms dangled around her torso as she shoved her head into his chest, taking in the familiar smoke smell.

“Maya seems super authentic Cal, and she’s like.. hot.” Y/N paused when she felt his body shake against hers from laughing, “I should’ve talked to you about it instead of getting angry. You deserve to be happy.”

“Promise I’ll be the maid of honor at your wedding?”

Y/N giggled, swaying them side to side as her cold hands went under the shirt of his back to warm them up. He jumped at the touch. She grinned at his reaction because she’s done it to him since they were little kids.

“Only if I’m your best man?”

Cal hummed, “Hell yeah, wouldn’t want anyone else.”

She nodded while elbowing him gently in the side, “good. It’s settled then.”

Y/N heard yelling inside and the two turned to see that Harry was dancing around Michael’s living room. His arms flared around in the air as he moved his body side to side. She knew that dance. It was a victory dance. The same one he would do when she agreed to wake up with him to watch the sunrise or when he would get all of pieces in home while playing sorry before her.

Harry turned around and cheekily smiled at her as he pointed at the tv and then himself and gave a joyful fist pump. She gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up in response.

“We better head back in.” She said, grabbing Calum’s arm and leading him inside.

“Love, I just kicked their asses!” Harry yelled, hitting Michael with a pillow. Harry cackled when Michael quickly plucked the pillow from him and threw it back with more force.

“You’re a goofball.” She said, crossing her arms.

Couple hours later everyone warmly hugged their goodbyes, slipped on coats and hats, and they walked out of Michael Cliffords house towards their own. Harry and Y/N were the last ones due to her being adamant on helping Crystal clean up. Harry and Michael had talked about FIFA as they attempted to help too but were more so in the way. The girls appreciated the gesture though.

Harry kissed Y/N a couple times instead of letting her get in her own car. Her muffled words kept getting shut off by his lips meeting hers.

“It’s almost like we have a house that we could make out in instead of my friend’s driveway, Har.” She said, pushing his face away with her hand like she did the first time he kissed her outside the poetry shop.

“Have to drive there first, hun. Takes too long.” He whined, his hands pulling her closer to his chest as his lips dragged across her neck, “What did Cal have to say on the balcony?”

She snorted as he nosed along her jawline, peppering kisses and moving his leg to rest in between hers. She ran her fingers along his arm until she intertwined her fingers with his.

He was jealous.

Harry would always ask her how it went when she met up with Calum. Y/N wasn’t dumb, Harry was scared that her feelings for her old best friend would randomly punch her in the face. Harry was hurt before and she understood that he was just scared of getting hurt again.

Especially since he has been in love with her since he was freshly eighteen years old.

“Just that he was glad that I came. Heart to heart about being best friends. I promised him he could be in our wedding if I was in his.” She said, halting Harry’s kissed against her skin.

His head snapped up so that his green eyes looked into her, “Our wedding?”

She nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

“If we’re in this for life, I’d figure it would happen sooner or later. I don’t know if I wanna wear a traditional white dress with you in a boring tux. I think our style is too spectacular for that normal shit. You look so good in vibrant colors, Har.” She whispered, squeezing his hand.

He seemed in a daze as he listened, nodding frequently in agreement, “You’d look amazing in anything as long as you’re walking towards me to meet me at the altar.”

“Yeah, you think?”

Harry laughed, “Yeah, I do.”

“I’ll marry you as soon as you show me that damn song. It’s driving me crazy, dude.” She said, pushing him away when he went in for another kiss that would turn into ten.

Harry was a lovey, touchy feely man, but she loved it. She loved him.

“You ruined one of the best moments of my life by calling me dude. Seriously, you’re killing me here. Cruel woman, you are.”

She shrugged, “I have my ways.”

“Go home!” Michael yelled out the window, making them separate quickly. Harry flipped him off before opening Y/N’s door and helping her in.

“I’ll see you at home, wife.”

Y/N cackled when Harry gently shut her door and saw him hurriedly got into his. She knew that tonight would be spent in each other’s arms with how absolutely thrilled he was to hear that she thought about their wedding.

She turned her car on and thanked Mother Nature for working her mysterious ways to make her life fit into place so perfectly.

[flutteringphalanges]

             Night of the Living Dead (And Then Some)

Summary: It’s 1897 and the world as we know it has become overrun by zombies. An unlikely pair, a former nun by the name of Agatha Van Helsing, and a bloodthirsty vampire, Count Dracula, have formed an alliance in the hopes of surviving this debacle. Can the two learn to coexist or will they end up as just another mindless cog in life’s maniacal wheel?

Ship: Dragatha

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/2

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N:  An odd two part one shot that came to my mind. I wanted to do something Halloween-ish. I guess in a way this is a parody because it is Dracula and there are also zombies?! Anyway, hope you like hope it turned out! -Jen

                                                    Part One

Surprisingly, he hadn’t taken notice of the damn thing until her arrow nearly took him out. Dracula watched as the undead beast faltered briefly before falling still on the ground. Right in the center of the forehead. She was getting good. Perhaps too good. Nostrils flaring slightly, he rounded about to face her.

“That could’ve easily hit me.” He attempted to argue as Agatha strode forward to pluck her prized arrow from the corpse. “What if I had moved just a bit? That weapon of yours could’ve struck my heart.” 

“And then I would have one less problem on my hands.” She replied simply, not so much as giving him the benefit of a look. “I knew what I was doing. If it hadn’t been for me, it would’ve gotten you and Lord knows what would happen if you were to get bit. There aren’t exactly many vampires about that we’ve seen cases of.”

“Must you bring God into this?” Dracula sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say, Agatha? Thank you?”

“That would be rather nice.” She sighed, cleaning off the grimy arrow. “But I have a feeling that I’m not going to get such a response from you. You are, as one might claim, a bit pig-head.”

“Pig headed?!” The vampire let out a humorless laugh. “Pig headed?! Why how your insults have grown since our first encounter, Agatha. If anyone is pig headed, it’s you for insisting we go to Brasov--which, I’ll inform you, was very overrun!” 

“Everywhere is overrun, Dracula.” The former nun sighed, finally turning to look at the man. “Romania, Holland...it’s like a cesspit of flesh eating monsters that, well…” She paused for a moment. “Make you seem like a mere mosquito.” 

The vampire’s eyes narrowed as the woman tossed her bow over her shoulder. Sometimes a small part of him felt the urge to end her right there. It would be so easy. But the bigger part refrained from that. Perhaps if he could read her mind at this very moment, she too felt the same way. Bickering was always better than dead. It was a good reminder to them both. 

“Come on.” Agatha’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. “It’ll be daylight soon and the last thing I need is for you to burn into a crisp.”

“If I’m not mistaken, I could’ve sworn you said  you’d have one less problem without me.” Dracula countered with a smirk. 

“The idea is becoming more tempting.” The woman replied with a huff. “Now come on, there is no telling what awaits us.” She gave a nod with her head. “This way then.” 

The memory was still very vivid in his mind as he was sure it was in Agatha’s. The night he slaughtered every nun in St. Mary’s Convent but her. How the woman gave up her freedom, her life without a second thought in order to save meek, little Mina Murray. He’d had plans for Agatha. Devilish desires involving her blood. And in a way, perhaps she thought that somehow she could take advantage of him. Oh how the fates change when Death knocks at your door. A new side of unrest that he hadn’t seen in his several centuries of life. 

“I don’t know about you, but I am quite parched.” Dracula said, breaking the long silence. “I haven’t had a human since...well...does tasting you count?” “You’ve survived years without drinking, I’m sure you can continue on just fine.” Agatha said, rolling her eyes. “I’ve been drinking river water and consuming squirrels and you don’t see me complaining. You don’t have to worry about dysentery.” 

“I suppose having you become ill and me carrying for you would put a damper on our little excursion.” He smiled when he saw the glare on Agatha’s face. “What do you suppose would happen if I were bit? If I were to become “undead” undead? Would it reverse the process? Would I be human again? Or would I be a raging animal the likes of which this world has never seen?”

“I’d prefer not to think about either of us getting bit.” The former nun expressed. “We’ve seen what happens. How they turn. It isn’t pleasant.” There was a brief pause before she added. “...If I were to be bitten, I would highly appreciate if you would kill--”

Dracula stopped in his tracks and turned to face his partner. “Your death--at least in the way you are proposing it, isn’t at the top of my list.” No, losing her in that matter was not certain. “You will remain alive, Agatha...at least until I deem it otherwise.” 

“Your version of being undead is only slightly less repulsive.” Agatha exclaimed, shaking her head. “Now hurry along, we’re losing nighttime.” 

“Always so eager and demanding.” The vampire tutted with a smirk. “I have yet to decide exactly how I feel about that with you.” 

The former nun merely rolled her eyes once more, a small smile gracing her features. “My complexity is one of my more charming qualities.” Her gaze flashed up to the full moon. “Perhaps there will come a day where you decide. Or not.” Agatha’s attention turned to the vampire, a look of amusement crossing her face. “And maybe, if you are lucky, I’ll look forward to your answer.” 

“Perhaps.” The Count agreed. “Until then, it seems we are left to put up with each other.” 

A low growl came from within the bushes nearby. Agatha and Dracula turned to see a creature stumbling out from the brush. His skin, just like his clothing, dangled in rags as he hobbled over to the two. Without so much as a second thought, the vampire produced his treasure saber and brought it swiftly through the zombie’s head. Even after centuries of going untouched. Years of battle it’d been in. The Count’s weapon of choice was rather practical--even if it wasn’t as secretly impressive as Agatha’s bow.

“A clean hit.” The former nun noted. “You’re improving.”

Dracula let out a laugh. “As if you know anything about true combat.”

“I was raised by Abraham Van Helsing.” She countered, folding her arms. “And I know you well enough to know that my grandfather was quite skilled.”

“He was no warlord.” Dracula commented, cocking one of his brows. “Now, while I’d love to have a friendly duel with you, I’d rather not run into any more of our acquaintance’s friends. As you were saying, we are losing time. Best keep moving.” 

And Agatha was not one to argue with that. 

                                                       XXX

Cold. Dark. Musky. The dilapidated hunting shed they’d come across at least didn’t stream a single beam of light in. Agatha didn’t know why she agreed to this. Her clothes being used as a means to cover the floor. Protect her from splinters. As Dracula’s pale, naked body moved against her’s, the only warmth she felt was from his cape underneath her bottom. Fucking the vampire was hot in the word sense, but icy from his touch.

“Just a nibble…” He purred into her ear, teeth lightly grazing her earlobe. “It won’t hurt.”

“I said...no to biting…” Agatha panted, her back arching as the pad to one of his thumbs ran across her hard nipple. “Rules.” “Rules are for sheep and conformists.” Dracula growled, his hand sliding down to just barely rest on her groin. He smiled as she stiffened knowing she was throbbing deep inside. Aching for him. “Last time I checked you were far from that, Agatha.” 

“If you can’t control yourself, then I am more than happy to stop.” She offered, earning her a dark glare. She knew he was already hard. Cock pressed against her inner thigh. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this debate during sex and it wouldn’t be the last. “I’m not your bottle of wine, Count Dracula. No biting or no sex.” 

“You are a temptress.” He grumbled, his mouth set in a look of displeasure. “A tease.”

“I am merely the apple on the tree in The Garden of Eden and you are both Eve and the snake. You are your worst enemy.” She chuckled at her own analogy knowing well enough that her comparison to religion was not looked kindly upon by the vampire. “Isn’t my touch enough?”

She let her fingers travel down to where his cock rested against her. Dracula had been the first and only man she’d ever been with. Every sexual experience had been with him. And despite what she at first thought it’d be like, she loved it. Craved it. Especially when she whittled him down to his last nerve. Agatha gingerly touched his head, feeling the droplets weep from their prison. Over four centuries old and with just a few decades herself, she could still make him squirm. 

“With you, nothing is ever enough.” He said through a breathy whisper. “Never. Never. Ever.” And without a warning, he pushed a finger deep inside Agatha causing her to yelp with surprise. So wet. Two could play at that game. “There is a vein that runs down the length of your inner thigh that is particularly delightful.” Dracula explained, kissing the former nun hard. “It would be nice for the both of us.” 

“You’re a pig.” Agatha gasped as the vampire touched her sensitive spot. There were stars and her vision blurred. Dracula seemed to realize this too and probed the area thoughtfully. She struggled to speak. “Stop it!” Don’t stop. Keep going. Faster. “I...I could...scream…”

“Worried about the undead in a time like this?” Dracula snorted. “My dearest Agatha, I believe you could shout as loudly as you desired and no one would hear. And I quite like that idea.” He could feel her hand grip tighter around his cock as if in response. It took everything in him to hold it together. “If you won’t give me your blood, at least let me hear you cry out my name. You owe me that much.” 

Agatha gazed up at him with fury, but lustful blue eyes. He was winning this one. She hated when that happened. Though they were still shrouded in darkness, the former nun could still make out the glint of his smile as her hand released him and he positioned himself at her entrance. She bit down hard on her lower lip. Not because she anticipated the pain. No. She anticipated the pleasure and what was to come. 

Dracula was rather unpredictable when it came to his part in sex. He could be soft, almost caring and considerate. Loving. Or he could fuck so hard that Agatha’s head was left spinning and she had bruises the next day. And if she were to be quite frank, she didn’t have a favorite. The vampire was always so good. So damn fantastic that with every thrust Agatha felt herself shaking deep from within her very core. Part of her wondered if there was a possibility she could become pregnant. It hadn’t happened yet, and they’d had quite a lot of sex. Still, it was always on the forefront of her mind when his seed spilled inside her. 

“Say my name.”

The commanding voice pulled her from her thoughts and Agatha was dragged from the whimsical land of euphoria and to the wooden, shed floor. Dracula leaned over her, his lips curved into a smile. The former nun reached out and wound an arm around his neck to steady herself. She knew that he had her. He always did. But it helped. 

“Say mine first.” 

The words escaped out as a moan which did not help Agatha’s case. She was growing close to her climax, and Dracula could tell. His thrusts began to quicken, deepen as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Then without thinking, she bit down on the vampire’s skin. That immediately stopped the man in his tracks. 

“Did you just...bite me?” He asked breathlessly, grinning widely. “Oh, Agatha…”

There were no marks. Of course there wouldn’t be. But she was so caught up in the moment. Suddenly, it dawned on her as they lay there still in the throes of passion. A silly little thought that made her smile too. 

“You.” She gasped out. “You said my name.”

“What?” Dracula interjected. “But I...that doesn’t count…”

“Still said it…” Agatha smirked, chest rising and following. “I win.” 

“Oh, we will see about that.” The vampire chuckled darkly. “I’m just getting started.” 

                                                   XXX

Though he’d said her name, Agatha had finished first. Twice even before Dracula met his limit. They fell back on their makeshift bed of clothing that they’d be putting on later. Her head resting on his chest, the woman watched the door quietly. Though she felt sleepy as the adrenaline rush began to fade, a part of her wanted to stay awake. But she knew how important it was to remain diligent. Especially at night. 

“Romania has fallen to whatever caused this plague.” Dracula said softly. “And we don’t know where else it has stretched. Perhaps there's a chance it’s only here.”

“And Holland.” Agatha reminded solemnly. “We’ve been roaming around aimlessly. Seen less and less humans.” She was silent for a moment before she craned her head up to meet his stare. “I do realize how it affects you.”

His fingers ran down the base of her skull and followed the path of her spine. She closed her eyes as he stroked her back. It was soothing, though the conversation at hand was not. If humans were going to become like an endangered species, then what of Dracula? After everything she was taught. Everything she’d seen. Agatha knew deep down her feelings for the vampire weren’t right. But even deeper down she didn’t care. Not in the least bit. 

“I have a proposition.” Dracula said after a moment’s thought. “And I have thought about this quite a bit. Much longer than this disease has been going on and much, much longer than my meeting you.” 

Agatha sat up from where she lay. “What might that be?”

“England.” Dracula said simply, sitting up as well. “Where we’d go in England, it’d be more advanced than the villages we’ve gone to. Perhaps the virus isn’t there or even better, they have a cure. It is better than nothing.” 

“England.” Agatha repeated as if she heard him right. “But we don’t even have a ship. That’s at least a few weeks' sail from the coast to the bay. How do you expect us to get there?” The expression on his face said it all. “...Is there no other way?” Not telling him no. Not forbidding him. It was as if in desperation she was accepting of the terms. “Is it the only way to be done?”

“Blood is lives, Agatha.” Dracula said, expression still. “Information. If we want to get across then I’m going to need the blood of someone who understands sailing among other things. Someone healthy--or at least not riddled with disease.” He touched her hand, surprised she didn’t pull away. “I’ll take only what I need.” The Count promised. 

“And what if there are no survivors at the port?” The former nun whispered. “What if they’ve all turned?”

“Then we keep going.” The vampire sighed, leaning back. “You should get some rest. It’ll be a long journey to the port if memory serves correct. I’ll take watch.”

“You took the first watch last time.” Agatha countered, sitting up straighter. “And if you know where we are going, then you should be the one with the clear mind.” Dracula opened his mouth to interject, but she continued. “I’ll be fine. Trust me. I’ll wake you up in a few hours. Besides, I am considerably more accurate with killing the creatures than you are with that ridiculous saber. You needn’t be so close with a bow.”

“Ah, you say that now but wait until those flimsy things split in two and your string breaks. Then you’ll be wishing you were brandishing reliable steel.” Dracula chortled. “Honestly, of all the weapons to choose from…”

“Go to sleep you warmonger.” Agatha snorted, resting a hand on his head as he lowered himself down. “There will be other times to debate weapons. Get some rest.” 

“Wake me if anything happens.” The vampire said with sudden alertness. “I am not playing, Agatha. At any immediate threat of danger, you must wake me up. Even if the sun has yet to set.” 

“You have my word.” The woman promised as the Count’s body relaxed. “Sleep.”

                                                    XXX

Agatha didn’t wake Dracula up after a few hours. Instead, when she was sure the sun was setting just enough as to not be so bright, she covered the vampire’s body as not to expose it and slipped outside. She inhaled deeply, enjoying what little light was left. She missed the day--though she kept that knowledge from Dracula. It was harder at night. Finding food. Water. But the few times she could escape. Sneak out without him worrying--those were good times. 

Thunk!

The partridge didn’t even see the arrow before it pierced straight through its body. It was an instant kill, one Agatha wished for every living thing she killed--maybe, if she thought hard about it, she’d feel the same about the undead. Picking up the decent sized fowl, she couldn’t help but admire it. After a good plucking and cooking, this would last her a few days. Especially if she could come across some salt and preserve it. Now that would be true luck. 

As Agatha walked over to what had perhaps once been a sort of fire pit, she took a seat down in the ground. Yank off handfuls of feathers, her mind kept wandering back to Dracula. His own need for food. Something he hadn’t been as fortunate to get. And maybe he deserved it. After all of the evil he caused, maybe this was fate’s punishment. But Agatha’s judgement, though questionable, began to consider something that maybe was pushing the bounds of her sanity even more.

Abandoning the bird for the time being, she made her way back into their temporary housing. Dracula was still fast asleep--he was odd like that, how deeply or not his slumbering was. Retrieving one of the jars she used for water, she returned outside. There truly was no means to prepare her hand for what she planned. Nothing to clean it with--she was out of water. But taking her arrow, the blood from the bird now smeared down her pant’s leg, she sliced her palm wide open and held it over the jar. 

It burned. Ached. Maybe she’d gone too far. Too deep. And as her blood flowed, she half expected Dracula to be roused from his sleep and attack her simply because he was in such dire need of the crimson fluid. But instead, everything was still silent. She bit her lip, her eyes pricked with tears as the bleeding thankfully began to stop on its own. A good sign that maybe she had injured herself too horribly. Careful not to spill a drop, she tore off a piece of her sleeve and bound her cut hand.

If there was to be a good deed done, this would certainly qualify for Agatha. That was, at least for today. 

                                                     XXX

“Well out of all outcomes, I certainly didn’t expect this!”

Agatha’s nostrils flared as Dracula, though his eyes burned that frightening shade of black with hunger, did not take the jar immediately from her. Instead, he stared at her hand looking equally as upset. When he reached out to take it, she yanked it back almost tempted to spill the blood all over the floor. 

“Well out of all the outcomes, Agatha, I can’t say I expected you to slice your hand open for me!” He tried to grab for it again, this time managing to catch her wrist. “Let me see it. Did you even try to clean it?” 

“Why can’t you just drink the blood?” Agatha sighed as he studied the wound. “I was trying to be nice. You talk about being oh so thirsty all of the time and craving me during sex. Well, this is what you want, yes? A true taste of me?”

“Not when it involves you injuring yourself!” The Count let out a dramatic huff. “You’re lucky this isn’t too terribly deep. As I recall, you need both hands for your weapon. We’ll have to watch it and make sure it doesn’t get infected.” The vampire shook his head. “And you went behind my back and took my sleep shift.” 

“I was enjoying the daylight!” Agatha hissed, now getting annoyed. “And I caught myself something to eat! I didn’t have to rely on someone else! Not to mention be appreciative of it!” She slid the jar over, watching Dracula’s Adam's apple bob as he swallowed the liquid whishing within. 

Then, without another word, Dracula lifted up the cup and gulped down the contents in less than a second. When he set it down, his eyes fixed on Agatha and a chill ran down her spine. Cold. Hungry. Lack of recognition. She could hear the vampire’s breathing becoming heavier as he moved closer. Was this it then? Had she given him a wine tasting that led to the draining of the whole bottle. 

“D...Dracula?”

Her voice was soft, shaking as she scooted backwards. She looked around the room for any sort of weapon in arm’s reach. Conveniently, his saber was on the opposite wall to her and the bow and arrows were out of sight. Agatha swallowed and tried to remain calm. If this was truly the end, she’d rather it’d be by his doing than that of one of those creatures. Instinctively her eyes closed as he loomed over her, the former nun waiting for his attack when a pair of arms pulled her in. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was gruff, breathing more labored than intense. “I’m okay…” 

Agatha looked up only to come face to face with Dracula. She could see her own blood smeared across his lips, smelled it's strange rusty scent. How that was appetizing to the vampire, she did not know. 

“I thought…” She began, quite unsure what to say. “After you drank my blood, I thought that you would…” 

“Given our current circumstances, my ability to remain in control might be a little rustier than I thought.” He gave her a small smirk. “I suppose it was a good thing that I didn’t bite you during sex. Could’ve led to a less than pleasurable end.” He was silent for a moment. “Thank you. For your blood. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.” Agatha said simply. “I wanted to.”

“And I must say, you are quite gifted with your weapon abilities.” The vampire said with a small smile. “Abraham, though we had our...differences...trained you well. Though, I have to admit you were pretty talented with that Pattern 1853 Enfield of his. Where did it come across a rifle-musket like that? Couldn’t have been easy, especially due to the legality of it.”

“I think we should make a new rule now that you’ve consumed by blood.” Agatha said, folding her arms over her chest. “You don’t bring up any details you’ve received from my blood--unless, of course, I offer them up in conversation.”

“Pity.” Dracula said, letting out a fake, long sigh. “I have so many.” 

“You should have thought about that beforehand.” The former nun exclaimed. “Questions that go unanswered can be such a bother.”

“Like an ex nun wielding a gun better than the average soldier.” The vampire replied, with a small, lopsided grin. 

“Careful.” Agatha warned. “I might’ve not had practice in a few years, but I am rather sure that if I were to pick up a said rifle of my choice, my aim would be fairly decent.” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “You should finish dressing. The sun has set enough for us to leave.”

Though she knew that their decision was the right one, part of Agatha didn’t want to leave the shack. Despite how messy and unkempt it was, it had proven to be safe. But staying anywhere too long, they had learned, didn’t always end up so. The former nun exhaled and glanced towards the rotting door and tried to push past what horrors awaited them. 

                                                     XXX

“La naiba!” Dracula cursed in his native tongue as he peered over the hill. “Trebuie să glumești…” 

“Maybe speak in English?” Agatha said from his side. “Ik spreek een klein beetje Nederland.” She hoped that her attempt at light humor would cause him to smile, but the serious expression did not leave his face. “What is it?” 

“A horde.” He hissed under his breath. “By the main entrance into the shipyard.” 

“Can you tell how many?” She replied, straining her eyes. Agatha could see movement from down below, but not much else. “...Do you think there is anyone even alive?” 

“At least ten.” Dracula answered, trying to hide the defeat in his tone. “And I don’t know. Not with a group like that lurking about. And who knows how many are separated from the main herd? We could try to kill them and then look around.” He turned to meet Agatha’s stare. “I am far as one can be from a man of prayer and I know you are unique in your beliefs, but we could really use one of your mystique rituals...without a cross would be appreciated.” His attempt at a failed joke. 

“We’ve come all this way.” Agatha said, moving to grab her bow. “We might as well try.” A small grin flickered across her features. “I should’ve taken the gun from my grandfather. My brother never learned to shoot anyway.” 

Together, as quietly as they could, Dracula and Agatha slid down the hill. As they moved towards the horde, other zombies began to amble out from abandoned buildings. Their moves were quick, swift in killing the creatures before they could alert the others. When they drew nearer, the vampire grabbed the former nun by the forearm and pulled her in close. 

“Fall back a little and find higher ground. That way you can aim better. I’ll be fine down here.” She didn’t seem so keen on the idea as he placed a kiss on her lips. “Go. Now.” 

Agatha’s footfalls were soft against the dirt ground. When she stopped in her tracks, she glanced around at the sight before her. How could anyone be left alive after this? It was then she saw a pile of rubble against a collapsed building. Perfect. But just as Agatha approached her access point, she was caught off guard by a zombie. The creature made a grab for her and knocked her flat on her back. The former nun struggled, gritting her teeth as she shoved it off. With a powerful smack, she struck it with an arrow through the head. The thing fell limp and the woman scrambled to her feet. 

Heart still pounding, Agatha shook her head and looked towards the direction of the horde. Dracula hadn’t seen what had just occurred and for that she was thankful. Refocusing on the house, she made her way to the debris and scrambled up. It was then she realized that while the vampire had a point about her having a higher shooting range, making him out in the midst of the ravage was too risky. He wouldn’t be happy about it, but he damn well needed her if he didn’t want to end up...something other than his usual “undead”. 

“Agatha!” Dracula snapped in surprise as a zombie’s head collided with his shoe. “What the hell are you doing?!” “Saving you!” The woman declared, aiming her bow towards one of the creatures. “Clearly you need it.” 

“I told you to go up somewhere high!” He insisted, lobbing off another head. “For once can you listen to me?!”

“You forget I don’t have night vision!” Agatha hissed, hitting a zombie straight between the eyes. “I don’t know why you worry so much about me. I--”

She didn’t realize the thing was behind her until it sunk its rotten teeth deep into her forearm. Agatha cried out in a mixture of shock and horror as blood spurted from the wound. Almost instantly the creature’s head lay at her feet, the horde now completely destroyed. A look of horror was etched across Dracula’s face. One she had never seen before. The former nun grabbed her injury tightly, her heart banging so hard that her chest ache.

Christ, she’d really screwed up.

I hope you enjoyed part one (of two)! I know it is a different kind of story! Dracula was saying in Romanian: “Dammit” and “You must be kidding” while Agatha said in Dutch: “I speak a little bit of the Netherlands (or Dutch).” Anyway, feedback is greatly loved and appreciated! Motivation helps so much! Until the next part! Stay safe and healthy! -Jen

[givemewritingorgivemedeath]

An Analysis Series Pt. 2: Dancing with the Devil... The Art of Starting Over: Prelude

**TRIGGER WARNING**

This post contains language depicting addiction, drug use, trauma, sexual abuse, and rape which may be triggering for some. Please feel free to skip.

I have decided to do a reaction and slight analysis of Demi Lovato's new album Dancing with the Devil... The Art of Starting Over. It was released on April 2nd at midnight.

I will be doing the Prelude (first 3 songs) in this post. Then I will likely do The Start of Starting Over 4 songs at a time. This will be to avoid overly long posts. For some background on Demi Lovato or for a quick analysis of her Dancing with the Devil music video, you can read the first part of this series.

Dancing with the Devil... The Art of Starting Over (Prelude)

Track 1: Anyone

While Demi wrote "Anyone" before her overdose, she mentions in her docuseries that, ironically, this song describes exactly what she was feeling when she was in the hospital AFTER her overdose in July of 2018.

For me, this is almost the sequel to "Sober" released in April 2018. In "Sober", Demi admits that she is no longer sober and has been drinking alcohol; she mentions that it is becoming a problem and that she will be getting help. However, we know this didn't go to plan. In fact, after the song's release, Demi began singing "Sober" on the "Tell Me You Love Me" tour that she was on prior to the overdose. Days before her overdose, Demi "forgot" the last words of the song during a show, including "I promise I'll get help"; her docuseries alludes to the idea that she didn't forget, but was in a dark place and wasn't sure if she would be getting help from her addiction.

"Anyone" describes the state of mind that led to her relapse. She feels totally alone; she is desperate and needs help from a higher power, but she feels even God has abandoned her - "So why the fuck am I praying anyway?". She doesn't feel like she has any control of her life - "Nobody's listening to me". Demi is miserable (for many reasons discussed in the album and docuseries.) She also discusses how she used to crave everyone's attention, but she realized that what she was looking for is affection. Looking for attention only made her feel worse about herself, whether the attention is positive or negative. As she goes on press junkets about recovery and happiness, she is the most miserable she has ever been - "I feel stupid when I sing". During a show on her "Tell Me You Love Me Tour" (different from the one discussed earlier), you can hear Demi getting choked up about how important it is to live your truth and get help if you need it. At the time, the audience did not know she was no longer sober. At a show closer to the time of the overdose, Demi mentions that she no longer wants to talk about mental health during the show. While she justifies by saying that she has done it way too much, her docuseries mentions that she felt like a hypocrite preaching through a crowd about this while she was spiraling and unhappy.

She continues: Demi tries to wish on stars and pray to God to help her with this moment, but she doesn't seem to find the strength anywhere...

Track 2: Dancing with the Devil

This song, while describing the day of the overdose and how she felt, is in the perspective of the person that survived the overdose and is recounting the events. This is unlike "Anyone", which is in the perspective of before or during the overdose and is just describing her current feelings.

Verse and Chorus 1:

"Dancing with the Devil" starts with her mentioning that she started drinking, saying that if she only drinks a little, she will be okay. She didn't actually believe this, but she used this to justify her drinking because she thought that maybe she could control herself. We know from the docuseries that Demi relapsed on her sobriety because she didn't know why she was sober anymore given how miserable she still was even without the drugs. She did not mention her drug use to friends, but she did tell them that she would only do light drinking; she said she wanted to try what other people her age did, especially since she had yet to turn 21 before she got sober in 2012. We know now that she picked up the bottle and pills because she was dealing with emotional pain, not because she wanted to have a little fun; the push to drink is a big indicator of how things may turn out, especially for someone with a history of addiction.

Demi continues to try to convince others: "not like I want to do this every night." She justifies starting to drink again by saying that she's been good for 6 years and has earned the chance to have one glass of red wine. "Feels like it's worth it in my mind" could be describing that she thinks that some alcohol is worth it given what she's been going through emotionally (and physically with her eating disorder). We are explicitly told that all this is BS, and she KNOWS that it is when she says "I told you I was okay, but I was lying." She knows that this coping habit is the enemy and that she is gambling with her life and the health of her soul by falling into her addictions.

Verse and Chorus 2:

Demi begins to sing about drugs here instead of just alcohol. While verse 1 seems to be her convincing the people around her that the end of her sobriety is okay, this verse finds her trying to convince herself. We know this because her friends did not know that she was doing any kind of hard drugs during the months leading up to the overdose. She mentions how one "white line" can quickly turn into smoking a glass pipe. This verse also gives us a look at the types of drugs she is using: "tinfoil" can be used for drugs like heroin and methamphetamines. We also know from "white line" and "glass pipe" that she could also be using cocaine. Demi admits in her docuseries that she used crack-cocaine, heroin, and more during this period.

Demi continues by saying that doing these drugs already almost got the best of her. This is not the first time she thought she was going to die from doing too many drugs; Demi has come out to say that she was surprised she did not overdose the first night she relapsed after mixing drugs that she had never even done before. It is common for addicts to turn to even heavier drugs after relapse from sobriety. In the song, she says she hopes she doesn't reach the end of her life but continues doing drugs in her "twisted reality, hopeless insanity". The chorus has even more meaning after this verse: "It's so hard to say "No"" to drugs for a former addict trying to just do a "little".

Ending:

Demi mentions how she truly thought she was going to be able to stop once she started if she wanted to without getting carried away, but she knows that she is wrong and in trouble. She, again, mentions God. But this time, instead of wondering why she should even pray to Him for help, she apologizes to Him for giving in to her addictions again. Once again, she prays that he will help her find "better days" without the pain that brought her TO her drugs and the pain brought BY the drugs. She sings one final chorus, ending on and emphasizing that she is still struggling with her addiction: "It's so hard to say 'no' when you're dancing with the devil."

Track 3: ICU (Madison's Lullabye)

This track gives me so many emotions. Demi dedicated to her baby sister as a promise that she will always be there for her. It is in the perspective of Demi when she woke up in the ICU following the overdose. She heard someone calling out to her but didn't know who it was, not even recognizing the voice. Doctors realized that Demi was legally blind after suffering from 3 strokes caused by the overdose, and she wasn't able to see her little sister Madison sitting at the side of her hospital bed. For a little background, back when Demi went to rehab the first time when she was 18 years old, she was told that she would not be able to see Madison if she didn't get herself together. It ironically came full circle: she did not stop doing drugs and ended up literally unable to see her sister.

Verse 1 and Chorus:

The song starts with Demi saying that she never wanted Madison to "watch [her] fall from grace" or relapse and overdose again. "Fall from Grace" normally refers to losing admiration and respect for someone; this is the last thing Demi wants. Demi always wanted to be better for her sister; Madison says that even with all the things Demi has been through, Demi is her role model and hero. Still, Demi's lyrics mention that she wants Madison to be able to look up to her and make sure that Madison doesn't fall into the same patterns of addiction that she did. She also wants Madison to know that she wants to be by her side and be her support no matter what, even though she struggles with being a "good big sister".

The chorus begins, and you hear Demi's promise to Madison explicitly:

Tuck your hair behind your ear Until you fall asleep I'll say a prayer and keep you near You're always here with me I promise, I'll be there, don't worry

Demi mentions that Madison is always there for her, so she intends to do the same. She continues saying that she "was blind" but now she can see clearly. This is both her saying that she was wrong to make the choices that she made and that she lost her vision. She follows that up by saying "but now I see clearly, I see you." This could allude to the fact that Demi has regained her vision, though she still has blind spots. It could also mean that she recognizes where she failed and how clearly she can see how much her sister means to her and how amazing she is/how much she is to lose. The "I see you" is also, obviously, a play on ICU (or intensive care unit, the hospital unit Demi was in after the overdose.)

Verse 2, Chorus 2, and Outro:

This begins with Demi saying that although she sees herself in Madison, she knows that Madison is strong enough to not fall into Demi's destructive patterns. She believes that not only can Madison "overcome anything in [her] way" and "change the world", but she can continue to give Demi strength. She begins her promise/chorus again after telling her that Madison will always be her baby sister.

"ICU (Madison's Lullabye)" ends with Madison telling her big sister "I love you, Demi". We hear Demi respond: "I love you, too". And then in the remix, you can hear my sobbing and crying into the ether because I am so fucking emotional right now.

Side note: the Visualizer for this song is beautiful. It contains blurry and double-vision-like images of the ICU, brain images, and more, representing Demi's damaged vision following the strokes.

[drethanramslay]

Late nights, Date nights

Pairing: Ethan x MC (Leah Garcia)

Word count: 4.1 K words

Warning: There is fluff and humour in the beginning and smut towards the end. If you are not comfortable reading it, I have distinguished is with asterisks (*)

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

Songs: Eyes off you by Prettymuch and Unbelievable by Why Don't We

Forgive me if there are any mistakes.

Ethan was pacing around in his office, marching so hard, that it left tracks in the carpet of his office.

C'mon Ethan, Leah is your fucking girlfriend. You can eat her out but, can't ask her out on a simple fucking date??!!

It was their six month anniversary, after months and months of pining over each other. When he thought about it now, he wondered why was he so against the concept? He thought that he was doing the right thing by not giving in, but in the end, he just ended up hurting himself and his Leah.

Leah... His sunshine.

The concept of nicknames never really appeased him. It was such a ‘teenager’ thing to do. When he was with Harper, the word 'babe' made him cringe so hard that it made him want to throw himself off the railing of the mezzanine floor of the hospital.

But with Leah, it was different. She breathed back life into the parts of his soul, which he thought were long dead. She constantly challenged him, pushed him to be a better doctor, a better friend and a better partner. She brought light, to the valleys of abyss and grief. Just like nothing can escape light, Ethan could not escape Leah's affection.

And he didn't want to run anymore..

He had never felt these intense emotions in a very long time. His mother leaving him at a tender age of eleven, made him grow up way to soon. It fucked him up. It made him close up and build walls to protect his heart from such earth shattering pain. It made him distant and cold.

But now he laughed more. Smiled more. And he knew that Leah was the one who saved him.

His salvation. His saving grace. His sunshine.

He decided enough was enough. He spoke to HR and Naveen and they gave them the green light. Leah had already made a great reputation in the hospital for her work ethic, her passion and her compassion. So why waste anymore time?

Ethan was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice Leah come in. "Woah woah Ethan. Are you trying to wear the carpet thin? You just got this office?!" Ethan looked up and saw Leah leaning against the door, with a smile. She was wearing a green blouse with a black pencil skirt. Ethan approved mentally.

"Hey sunshine."

"Hey yourself." She said as she closed the door and stepped into Ethan's embrace. He buried his face into her hair, and inhaled the lavender scent, which immediately soothed him. To him, she smelled like spring. She was perfect.

God, could you be any more sappier Ethan? Be a man.

But he knew, that if Leah even looked his way, he would be down on his knees.

"How was your day?" Ethan asked as he kissed her crown.

"It was so productive. I saved a nine year old girl today. Seeing her parents happy... It was beautiful."

"Well, I never doubted you once." He said with a tender smile, cupping her cheeks. "Also, do you have plans for tonight?"

"Yeahhhh, today is just an ordinary day, with no anniversary whatsoever. I was planning on going home and binging on greys-"

"Sunshine, don't talk shit."

"Hey, but you still love me."

"That I do... Anyways I have made a reservation in 'Osteria' tonight to celebrate our anniversary."

"E, you know that I wouldn't mind staying in bed and drinking cheap wine right?"

"I know, but I want to spoil my baby!! Be ready, I will pick you up by seven."

"I will be ready."

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

Ethan rolled up to Leah's penthouse and send her a message. He had donned his black tux but had skipped the tie. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his crisp white shirt. He was going to call her again, when he heard a tap on the window. He looked up and the phone almost fell out of his hands.

Leah stood in front of him, wearing a black evening gown. It was an off shoulder, which showed her collarbones. She was also wearing the ruby stone necklace, her birthstone, which Ethan had gifted her on her birthday. Her jet black hair had been tied up to a messy side bun, a few rebellious strands blowing in the night wind. He steeped out to open the door for her when he almost tripped at the sight.

The dress had a slit which almost went up to her thighs, putting those glorious bronze legs on display.

God, she was gonna be the death of me.

"Wow. You look gorgeous Dr. Garcia."

She blushed red. "You don't look so bad yourself Dr. Ramsey." He pecked her on her lips.

"Shall we?" He opened the door for Leah, like a true gentleman.

"Yes, we shall." Leah giggled and stepped in. Ethan walked around and sat in the driver's seat, and they pulled out of the curb.

The entire ride was filled with jokes, heated gazes and silent promises. Ethan had placed his hand on her bare thigh, slowly caressing it. Leah knew that it was risky to wear such a gown, but she took the chance anyway. And now here she was, slowly going crazy with Ethan's hand on her thigh.

She wanted to devour him. He looked delectable and so very handsome in a tux. The open buttons, gave her a peak of his collarbones and she literally salivated. Collarbones have always been her weakness.

Soon, they showed up at the restaurant. After handing of the keys to the valet, and borderline threatening him that if there was even one scratch, he would have a nice chat with the manager, they headed towards the restaurant.

"God Ethan, you are such a Karen." Leah giggled.

"I maybe old, but I got that reference!! And no, I am not. I am particular."

"Whatever floats your boat babe." She linked her hands in his and they headed towards the hostess.

"Welcome sir and ma'am. Do you have a reservation?" The hostess asked.

"Yeah... Please check under the name Ramsey."

The hostess checked the log book for a long time. Ethan started sweating. What was taking her so long?

"I am afraid but, there is no reservation under that name sir." The hostess replied timidly, after Ethan's cool eyes landed on her.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Hundred percent sir."

"But it does not make sense...I called two months before to get a reservation... Do you have any empty tables?" Ethan said, pinched the bridge of his nose, slowly getting frustrated.

"Sorry sir but... All the tables are occupied."

Goddammit Ethan!! You had one fucking job.

He led Leah back to the valet and ran a hand through his hair. "I am so sorry sunshine. I just wanted this evening to go perfect and I had to go fu-"

Leah put a finger on his lips. "No. You haven't fucked anything up. It's the gestures that counts. Also, the night is young."

"But you heard the hostess-"

"Well, I have some ideas on how we can spend our anniversary." Ethan just gave her a quizzical look. She took the car keys from the valet and turned towards Ethan and winked. "Get in the car Ramsey. Get ready for the best night of your life."

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"So your 'best night' includes shopping at Target??" Ethan asked amusement sparkling in his ocean blue eyes.

"Shut up. Where we are going, we need a little more casual clothing."

"But I like your gown. It helps me slip my hand-"

"Shh Ethan!! We are in public. Keep it PG 13 for now." Leah said, as she blushed red. Ethan just laughed, enjoying teasing her.

Leah proceeded to pay for the clothes and pushed Ethan into the changing room with his set of clothes. Ethan simply obliged because by the look of the determined glint in her eyes, he didn't want to be trampled by a woman on a mission.

The dark jeans fit him perfectly and the grey V-neck fit him snugly. He was wearing his slip ons when Leah came out of the dressing room, smoothening her outfit.

She was wearing a black tank top which she tucked into a baby pink skater skirt. On top of the tank top, she had slipped on a denim jacket. "How do I look babe?" She asked as she observed herself in the mirror.

"You know that even if you wore a potato sack, you would still be the prettiest woman I have ever laid my eyes on, right?" Ethan said earnestly.

She gave a soft smile and kissed his bearded cheek. She plopped down next to him and slipped on her white converse hightops.

"Seriously sunshine? Converse again? You literally have so many at home."

"Well I don't have this style. And you know what they say, 'once a converse girls, always a converse girl'." She said as she brushed him off.

"Sunshine.... literally no one says that."

"It's all in the details, E. C'mon let's go."

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After a half an hour drive, Leah pulled into the make shift parking lot near the docks. They got out and Ethan let out an appreciative whistle. "Wow."

Leah had brought them to the annual fair, where there were tonnes of food stalls and gaming places. The entire place had been decorated with LED lights that were illuminating the Boston night sky. The Ferris wheel stood tall and proud, moving at a gentle pace. The place was littered with a number of game stalls like 'shoot the bottle' and 'ring toss' where people competed to get a prize. Fairy lights hung from the trees around there and a number of people were sitting under them, laughing, eating and drinking cheap beer.

On the other end there were a number of food stalls open, which were being catered by the numerous food joints in the city. The crowd near the ice cream vendors and the cotton candy vendors were unreal.

"Oh. My. God. Ethan they have go karting as well!!" Leah exclaimed grabbing Ethan's arm and pointing towards the make shift track. The karts had designs in various neon colors and the entire track had been painted with glow in the dark paint.

Leah continued to point at the different places and stalls, talking excitedly, but Ethan's eyes stayed glued to Leah's face with a small smile. The child like wonder in her brown eyes made Ethan melt. Her voluminous dark hair blew with the wind, caressing Ethan's face. The way the neon lights reflected on her caramel skin, the way there was an pearly smile on her face and the way she clutched Ethan's arm made his heart do somersaults.

"Are you even paying attention?" Leah asked, breaking Ethan from his reverie.

"Sorry, I didn't get the last part. Was blow away by how beautiful the view is."

Leah rolled her eyes and smacked Ethan's arm. But there was a small smile on her face.

"Let's go to the go karting place."

"Oh yes. Can't wait to see you behind in the dust." Ethan said with a teasing smile.

"Oh honey. I can't wait to see your face after I defeat you. If you think I am going to go easy on you just because I love you, you are very very wrong." Leah said with a coy smile.

"Oh you are so on. Winner can ask the loser anything and buys snacks."

"Let's do this." Leah said as she cracked her knuckles.

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

"So...what do I ask you?" Leah questioned herself, with her fingers tapping against her chin. She had won hands down. She got a tacky medal which she decided to wear for the rest of the evening. She just continued to wear a smug smile on her face, so that she could annoy Ethan.

"Please, just get it over with." Ethan groaned as he munched on the caramel popcorn.

"Hmmm.... Which is your favourite place to kiss me?"

"Hmmm..that's a tough question.. see, my favourite place is your pussy but I think your neck would be my favourite place to kiss." Ethan mused.

"Why?" Leah asked as she took a bite of bite of the cotton candy, letting it dissolve on her tongue.

"There are three reasons- One, the moment I kiss your neck, you have that wanton and 'fuck me' expression which drives me crazy. Secondly, the moans you let out are....oh Lord. Just thinking about them gives me a bad case of blue balls. And lastly, you become so wet and ready for me... It makes the experience much more memorable." He said nonchalantly as he continued to munch on the popcorn, seeing Leah's reaction from the corner of his eyes.

Leah was blushing wildly. Ethan may come across as a gentleman but his dirty talk made her knees weak like jello. He could speak things that would make a priest blush. "That's not true." Leah weakly objected as she stuffed her face with cotton candy.

"Oh really? So if I do this.." Ethan reached to place a hot, wet kiss on the spot below her ear. Leah's mouth opened slightly at the intense feeling. Her body flushed wildly. Her toes curled as Ethan continued to lick and suck. She felt herself getting wetter and wetter when his teeth sank into the tender spot on her neck. After what seemed like eternity, he pecked it and moved back to admire his handiwork. "....it won't do anything?" He asked in a husky voice.

Leah didn't dare to look at him because she knew that if she would, her face would betray everything. Also she didn't want to see the shit eating grin on his face.

"Shut up." Leah grumbled as she tore and ate her cotton candy more aggressively.

"But I didn't say anything!"

"I know what you are thinking so shush."

Ethan laughed a deep laugh, his dimples on display as he wrapped his hand around her waist. "It's okay sunshine. You can tie me up and have your way later." He said as he kissed her crown.

"Oh look, there is a shooting booth." Leah said, changing the topic before her mind could go into full fantasy mood of Ethan being below her, moaning her name as she rode him six ways to Sunday.

They reached the stall which was decorated in a western country style. "Howdy! Wanna shoot somethings?"

"I'm a healer but.." Leah picked up the shotgun and loaded it while Ethan rolled his eyes. He will never understand her obsession with anime.

"Shoot all the balloons on that board and then you can choose what prize you want." The guy with the handlebar moustache said.

With quick precision, she shot all the balloons in a matter of seconds. She then twirled the gun around her finger and blew the smoke away. "And that's, how you do it in the wild wild west." She said in a smoldering voice.

Ethan and the gamekeeper had their jaws on the floor.

Could she get any more attractive? Ethan asked himself.

"Damn girl.." the old guy with the funny moustache spoke.

Leah gave out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, can I get those rose tinted glasses?" She pointed to a pair of cat eye sunglasses.

"Sure girlie."

After wearing them she grabbed Ethan and walked hand in hand towards the next booth. "Sunshine, what is the point of these glasses if they can't even cover your eyes?"

"These are stylish and I can wear them when I am going out."

"I don't think I can ever understand your sense of fashion."

"Uh duh!! You guys can't even distinguish between 'peacock blue' and 'turquoise' colour."

"Is there even a difference between them?" Ethan asked incredulously.

"A fine example right here."

Ethan lightly shoved her but Leah just held onto their intertwined fingers. She pulled him to her, went on the tip of her toes and kissed him. Ethan cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly and tenderly. The sounds of people talking, the mainstream pop music playing through speakers, everything disappeared as they kissed each other under the neon lights.

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

"Oh god...I am so full!" Leah groaned she leaned back on her hands. They were sitting under a secluded tree, with golden fairy lights hanging off them.

"Sunshine, I think you will have to roll me out of here." Ethan groaned as his hands caressed her bare thighs, which she had thrown over his lap. He picked up their popsicle sticks, and threw them in a perfect arc, into the nearby dustbin.

"I can't roll out a 6 feet something skyscraper on my own. I would die."

"Sucks to be short." Ethan stuck his tongue out.

"Hey your tongue is blue!!" Leah exclaimed.

"And your is red from the strawberry flavour." He observed.

"Wanna make purple?" Leah asked slyly, waggling her eyebrows.

Ethan guffawed at the expression and soon she also joined in his laughter. She clutched her stomach. "Oww....shouldn't try to laugh too much. Gosh, I shouldn't have taken that second helping of Quesadillas."

"C'mon let's take you home." Ethan stood up and grabbed Leah's hand so that he could pull her up to stand. She dusted her skirt and then intertwined their fingers. She leaned against him, as they headed towards the exit.

"Sunshine?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a lot of fun today. Thank you."

"You can thank me in different ways later." Leah said, as her brown eyes darked with desire.

Ethan just smirked and squeezed her to his side.

"That's a promise baby."

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The moment they entered Ethan's penthouse, Ethan pressed Leah against the door. Leah's let out a sharp breath and she looked up at the stormy blue eyes. She could see the desire and the lust swimming in those blues of his and she could also feel the desire in her, ignite like a slow fire.

Ethan cupped her cheek and pulled her in for a heated kiss. She went on her tiptoes to meet him half way. With their lips locked in a passionate embrace, she still felt that he was too far away. So, she hooked her fingers on the belt loops and tugged him closer to her.

Getting the memo, he moved closer until they was no space between them except their clothes. Ethan reached to take her jacket off, which he threw across the room. The need to get her naked, writhing and moaning under him, was becoming overwhelming.

She took out Ethan's shirt and moaned when she felt his warm skin on hers. She wrapped her arm around his neck while she laid her other hand on his bare chest. Her dainty fingers seemed to have a mind of their own. They caressed his chest, his back, his abs and were about to go lower, to his happy trail when he growled and caught them.

He grabbed her thighs and lifted her so that her legs were around his waist. He took her hands and pinned them against the door. The kiss was a fight for dominance, where nobody seemed to be a clear winner. Leah slipped her tongue into his mouth and he groaned appreciatively.

He tastes like ambrosia, sweet nectar and all the good things in life. Leah knew that she could never ever get over the way he tasted.

Ethan lifted her with ease and led her to the first surface he found, the dining table. He moved his hands under her tank top and groaned when he found out she wasn't wearing a bra.

"God Leah, you know how much control it takes to be around you? That when you pull such stunts on me, I just want to bend you over and fuck you on the first surface I find?"

"So what's stopping you?" Leah asked. She pulled him in for another searing kiss.

"After I am done with you...you won't be able to walk for a week." He spoke in a husky voice, filled with need. He took of her tank top and growled appreciatively at the sight of her breasts.

Leah smiled coyly. "Don't make promises you can't keep Ramsey." Ethan just narrowed his eyes and kissed her with so much force, that it made her gasp. His hands reached for her ass and squeezed it.

He then descended on her neck kissing and licking the small droplets of sweat accumulated on her neck. He slowly grinding against her heat, making her aware of how badly he needed her. His hands went from her ass to her breasts. He massaged it before pinching the nipples. Leah yelped. Ethan did not once show her mercy, as he stimulated each sensitive spot on her body. Leah felt as if her nerves were on fire.

He slowly made his way down south, leaving fiery hot kisses on her body. Not having any patience left, he just lifted her skirt up and quickly slid her panties out. Seeing her exposed pussy just made his jeans tighter around his growing erection. He blew air on her wet cunt, leaving goosebumps on their wake. "What are you doing?" Leah asked breathlessly. She was finding it hard to keep her eyes open due to the desire coursing through her veins.

"What we do on a table Sunshine.... Eat." His dark blue eyes met her brown ones and he licked her dripping slit, slowly. Leah thought she was going to loose it at that very instant.

He gripped her thighs and threw them over his broad shoulders and proceeded to eat her out, properly . He swirled his tongue on the sensitive bud of nerves and then went on to stick his tongue into her wet pussy.

He let out a moan, which resonated deep in her core.

He never once slowed his pace. He continued to lap up all the moisture. He alternated between her clit and her cunt. As he pushed his fingers in her, and fucked her, Leah climbed higher and higher. Her stomach started to tighten, with the need to release.

"Oh god...I am gonna come..."

Ethan stopped his hand movements and rose to his full height. Leah's eyes snapped open and she glared at him.

"Fuck you Ethan!! Who the hell gave you the fucking righ- ohhhh."

He shoved his dick slowly into her, enjoying the way her walls clenched around him. They fit each other perfectly. Like two jigsaw puzzles. You couldn't differentiate, where he ended and where she started.

This..this was heaven.

He slowly moved, in and out. But Leah wasn't having it.

"Ethan, I want you to fuck me."

"Are you sure you can handle it sunshine?"

"I ain't no weak bit-" Leah couldn't complete her sentence because at that moment he snapped his hips and started fuking her. He held her hips with one hand for leverage and his other hand gently squeezed her throat, feeling her rapid pulse under his hand.

He did not let go of the punishing rhythm he had set. He moved his hips in such a way that he hit her on that spot which made Leah see stars. It was quite a view for Ethan. The moonlight streaming through the glass facade and illuminating her sheen skin. Her eyes half closed, her breasts moving with every stroke and her legs wound around his hips.

"Please, please, please let me come." Leah choked.

Ethan also felt a tingle in his lower back and his abs constructing. He was close too. His strokes became faster and shorter.

"Okay sunshine. Come."

Just that one word and Leah obeyed. She felt a burst of pleasure rush through her body, setting every part of her alight. She saw fireworks behind her eyelids. She hadn't even come down when, Ethan's release caused her to have another mini orgasm.

It was too much. Way too much.  Aftershocks racked her body and tears streamed down her face as she soared through cloud nine.

Without pulling himself out, he gathered Leah in his arms and took her to the bedroom. He gently laid her down on the bed and pulled out and headed to the bathroom to get a  washcloth. Leah winced and felt empty like a crater.

Ooooh boy, gonna feel that tomorrow.

Her eyes were closed as she tried to catch her breath and get her head straight. Ethan slowly wiped her neck, her stomach and her sore centre, instantly cooling her body down. He threw the washcloth into the laundry basket and slid into his bed. He wrapped his strong arms around Leah and pulled her close to him. He bent down to kiss her lips tenderly.

"I love you sunshine."

"Happy six months, babe. I love you." She gave a tired smile and they both slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Wow that was the longest I have written. *wipes brow*

Like, reblog and let me know how you liked it :))

[aenariasbookshelf]

New Ficlet: The Art of Snuggling

Title: The Art of Snuggling

Summary: Some days, it just isn’t worth getting out of bed, when being human is just too hard to handle. And on days like that, sometimes the best thing for Darcy Lewis is a good, old fashioned, snuggle.

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers/Wanda Maximoff

@typhoidmeri and I have been tossing around snuggling headcanons for ages, and when we hit on an OT3 idea I couldn’t resist putting it down on paper. So, this story is for Meri, who I am very thankful to have had in my life for all these years, and this is a small token of my appreciation for you.  

**********

Some days, it just isn’t worth getting out of bed. Darcy has accepted this as a fact of her life at this point: that there will be days when being human is just too hard to handle and the best thing she can do is stay in bed. To lounge there like some fairy tale heroine, propped up on lush velvet pillows and lovely, tactile blankets that cocoon her body. 

Those are far too fancy words for depression though. From her own first hand experience, Darcy knows that her depression doesn’t result in her looking like a sleeping beauty, but rather a zombie who’s lost a lot of days to a restless, uneasy sleep and a brain that vacillates between feeling too much of the pain in the world sometimes and blindingly numb to everything on others. And when she finally manages to get out of the stupor, she looks like she’s been dragged through a hedge backwards, with a rat’s nest worth of curls on top of her head and in desperate need of a shower. Definitely not fairy-tale like.

She’s developed better coping mechanisms since college at least, which had involved a lot of cheap wine and other risky activities in an attempt to feel something, anything. Even the revelation of Thor and those events were only able to keep the depression at bay for a little while. When she crashed back down to earth afterwards, the nightmares and the “it’s totally not PTSD, I just keep seeing the giant metal Asgardian creature out of the corner of my eyes,” brought all of the feelings of uselessness rushing back that had to be hid away from Jane lest she lose her internship. Frankly, Darcy’s not sure how she managed to graduate, really.

Medication and the health insurance to pay for it makes a world of difference. And Darcy finally has people who she knows care about her just the way she is, damaged and dinged up and beautifully flawed, who love her and accept her love in return, even if the words don’t always come easily. 

But, even with the medication there are still days when Darcy just can’t get out of bed, and so she pulls her cozy sweater tighter around her and curls into the blankets, eyes heavy and body trying to become as small as it can be. A few minutes later the door to the bedroom opens, soft footsteps heading her way. It’s the smallness of the tread that tells her it’s Wanda rather than Steve, gliding through the world at her own pace. Wanda sits down on the edge of the big bed, brushing some curls away from Darcy’s eyes. “Mmm,” Darcy hums, leaning into Wanda’s light touch. 

There’s a clinking noise somewhere that Darcy can’t quite make out, so she pries her eyes open to spot a couple of fresh mugs on the bedside table amidst the rest of the clutter that’s built up there. “Did you take your pills yet this morning?” Wanda asks. More than once Wanda’s told both her and Steve that she’s not their therapist, she’s their girlfriend, and they try their absolute hardest to honor this...but it’s no secret that Wanda tries to help them where she can, with gentle reminders and quiet little prods that push things in the right direction. 

“Not yet,” Darcy sighs. She pushes herself upright, the blankets falling around her, dragging her sweater down a bit until one pale shoulder is sticking out of the cardigan (it’s oversized anyway...and come to think of it she probably borrowed it from Steve’s section of the closet). “I need to.”

“Here.” Wanda leans over to the bedside table and pulls an orange pill bottle out of the mess there. “I think these are them.” She hands them over and Darcy hefts them in her hand, tossing them in the air and hearing the medication rattle around inside.

“I love and hate these things, you know?” Darcy says, popping the cap. “I hate that I’m so fucking dependent on them to keep me balanced, but I love that they actually mean I can function right.” She measures out the dose into her hand and pops them into her mouth, washing them down with a swig of coffee.

Wanda shrugs, moving around to lean against the headboard next to Darcy. Their bed is large enough to fit all three of them comfortably; it may have initially been a custom job to fit Steve’s large frame, but none of them can deny that it’s perfectly shaped for the three of them to sleep at nights. “The medicine’s a lot less self destructive than the other options, at least.”

“Depends on how you use them,” Darcy points out. She snuggles her coffee cup close and leans against Wanda’s side, letting the other woman’s warmth seep into her chilled bones. “Take enough of those pills and destruction is guaranteed.”

The statement is enough to make Wanda groan loudly with frustration. “I swear, between you with the bloody dark jokes and Steve with the bloody fists, you’re both going to make me go entirely grey-haired before I’m thirty.”

And while the rational part of Darcy knows that the comment’s only in jest, it’s enough to make Darcy shrink down inside herself, bury her feelings and the sting down inside of her and curl up inside that hard shell once more. “Sorry,” she mumbles in the direction of her coffee cup.

“Hey.” She feels Wanda’s hand on her face, turning her so they can lock eyes. Wanda glides a knuckle over Darcy’s cheekbone and gives her a soft smile. “No matter what,” she says, “you are absolutely enough as you are, and I love you just like that.”

Darcy can feel the tears start to sting at her eyes, one breaking loose and tracking its way down her skin to gather in the corner of her mouth. “I love you too,” she says, using her free hand to pull Wanda into a slightly desperate kiss that hopefully says everything that words can’t. Darcy pours all of her feelings into it, knowing that Wanda, with all of her psychic skills and abilities, will feel them that way too.

Wanda’s lips trail away from Darcy’s slowly, stretching up to plant another kiss on her forehead. “It’s going to be a bed day, isn’t it?”

“I think so.” Darcy glances over Wanda’s shoulder and out the window, seeing the sky a dull grey color, clouds heavy and leaden, like it may possibly snow but really, it just can’t muster up the energy for it. “Weather’s right for bed and cuddling.”

“Here.” Wanda grabs the remote from the other bedside table and drops it in Darcy’s lap. “You find something to watch, and I’ll get the blankets.”

It doesn’t take long for the two women to get everything situated just so, pillows in all shapes and sizes and colors piled high against the headboard, and some knit blankets that are probably about as old as Darcy is, but they’re warm and cozy, and that’s what matters. “What are you doing?” Darcy asks a few minutes later, once they’re finally curled up together under the blankets, the tv on the other side of the room telling stories of baked goods in soft voices that help to put her brain at ease.

“Texting Steve,” Wanda says, nose buried in her phone. “He’s out running right now, but I’m going to see if I can tempt him to bring some goodies home for us.”

“Goodies are fun, but really, I am a-ok with just cuddles.”

“Well, there’s nothing to stop us from having both of them.”

Wanda’s arm drops around her shoulders, pulling her close, the skin to skin contact doing wonders to soothe Darcy’s soul. Beneath the blankets, she curves her leg atop Wanda’s, clinging on like a truly desperate octopus, and it helps to settle her even further. They’re still like that when Steve arrives later, slightly sweaty from his run, with a tray of drinks in one hand and a paper bag in the other.

“Hey you,” Darcy says, still not moving her head from where it’s pillowed on Wanda’s shoulder. Wanda’s fingers keep idly stroking at her hair anyway, and it’s enough to make her positively melt. “Good run?”

“Good enough. Nothing special.” Before Darcy can ask what’s in the bag the bed dips and Steve crawls over the two of them, bracing himself up so that they’re not crushed under the entirety of his body. He kisses Darcy first, slow and languorous with just a hint of tongue, tasting enough like hot chocolate that Darcy licks her lips when he pulls away. Steve kisses Wanda next, gracing her with the same sweet, slow kiss, and it’s a sight that Darcy will never be tired of. 

“You need a shower,” Wanda says when Steve moves back. “You smell like jogging.”

“She has a point.” Darcy plucks at the T-shirt stretched over Steve’s chest, finding one of the sweaty spots there. “Go shower, then come cuddle with us.”

“If my sheets are getting sweaty, it won’t be because of this,” Wanda points out with a giggle.

Steve rolls his eyes, and sighs. His head drops forward and Darcy pats the back of his neck to try and comfort him a bit...and then wipes the sweat that collected on her hand off on his shoulder. “All right, I’m going.” He hauls himself off the bed and heads to the bathroom, the sound of delighted giggles trailing behind him.

One military-quick shower later Steve comes back, wearing loose shorts and a tank top, and crawls into the bed behind Darcy. His body brackets hers neatly, and his arm stretches over her head so that he can play with the loose strands of Wanda’s hair that spread across the piles of pillows. Darcy wriggles back into him, soaking in the skin to skin contact on her back, while tugging Wanda that much closer to her. There’s an art to the group snuggle, after all, which ends up resulting in the finest puppy pile that they could achieve, skin to skin to skin, making it hard to tell where one body ends and the next one begins. 

“So what are they making today?” Steve murmurs into Darcy’s shoulder, just as his hand steals up to slide under her shirt, settling large and warm against her soft stomach and grounding her.

Wanda laughs, a little snorting chuckle that is absolutely adorable, and Darcy just shakes her head. “Just wait and see,” Darcy says. “It’s going to make your inner New Yorker curl up and die.”

Even on those darker days, when her brain chemistry is being especially stupid, Darcy knows there’s still something there that makes it all worth it. It could be something small, so minor that no one else would be amused by it, but it’s hers. These two beloved people, who accept and love her for everything that she is, flaws and all, are hers too, and she loves them back. And never let it be said that Darcy doesn’t fight for those she loves.

(a/n: if you’ve been watching this season of GBBO you’ll know exactly which challenge it is that made my inner new yorker curl up and...actually, it made me rage and throw a sock at my TV screen. Sign of a true Brooklynite right there.

Ask me how I really feel about this season of GBBO. Go on. I dare you.)

[buddietomytarlos]

9-1-1 Lonestar S2 Ep2 Thoughts *Spoilers*

under the cut are my thoughts :)

- What a douchebag… but remembering the lava at the bottom of the pool from the trailer thank you for getting her out of there <3 VELMA FROM SCOOBY DOO?? SHUT THE FUCK UP DON’T DO THAT TO VELMA. Really warm huh OH DAMN HE JUST BACKFLIPPED INTO THAT. HE’S BOILING ALIVE AHHH OH GOD NO NO NO

- OFFICIALLY IN REMISSION!! 💞💞💞

- “This is the ugliest cake…” “I gave your scans to the baker” LMAO THAT BAKER MUST HAVE BEEN LIKE “WHAT THE FUCK…”

- “Thanks for being here babe” AHH

- “You haven’t touched your tumor cake…” “It’s growing on me.” lol also that’s a big ass piece of cake

- “You know what happens if you keep things bottled up.” “Unless it’s wine.”

- fuck that… he just fell in—

- Now why he tell the kid that they’re gonna rescue the dad and that he’s not gonna die without knowing for suer……… don’t promise something you can’t keep

- AHHHHHHHHHH HE’S MELTED INTO IT. I knew it the second he said he couldn’t. Owwwwwww his skin being ripped off like that FUCK

- ooh he getting in trouble for what he said to the kid. bro don’t look like that you know she’s right

- SCORPIONS NO

- Highkey though love this scorpion scene to

- CARLOS

- “were not worried about dad, were worried about you” aggghghhggfghgh

- oof I’d hate to be in that Lava pool. Literally burning alive… melting.

- “Is she your girlfriend?” “Uh.. I wish.” imagine telling your kids how you got together

- Tim 🥺🥺 I saw a spoiler after the ep ended bc I had to stop watching the show for a friend I’m so sad. ALSO SPENCE IS NOAH FOSTER BRUHHHH

- Tim realizing that the can’t promise him he’ll be able to walk pLS his pleading voice makes me so sad I’m so

- Oh I remember seeing this scene on screen before I turned it off NOOOOO. I knew he was gonna get hit beforehand the second he looked up. But I know they save him.

- OH NOOOOOOOOO THAT’S HOW TIM DIES? NO NO NO I HATE IT HERE

- The gang 😭😭😭 “It didn’t feel like we were in trouble.” Probie why’d you be in trouble.

- “Why did we leave him there.” STOPPPP NANCY 😭😭 NANCY BEING SO FUCKING HEARTBROKEN BC SHE WORKED WITH HIM THE MOST I’M SO EMOTIONAL RN I loved Tim 🥺😭

- Captain Vega blaming herself for scolding him the day before he died :(( nooo bby. Her relationship with Judd is so amazing and sweet I love it

- NANCY PACKING UP TIM’S STUFF 😭😭😭

- OMG PLS HAVE THEM ADOPT BUSTER TOO. A FIREHOUSE DOG AND CAT YES

- It’s raining ash you probably shouldn’t be outside Cap

- At least Tim died immediately and didn’t suffer :(

- The station all letting out their anger and hurt and frustration I’M NOT OKAY.

- This Tarlos scene broke me. TK just falling into Carlos’s embrace… plus this song Jesus

- Judd scooting in behind Grace and their hands intwining.

- MARJAN BREAKING DOWN INTO PAUL’S ARMS

- CAPTAIN VEGA BROUGHT THE CAT BACK TO HER HOUSE AWWW okay i’l take that. I love that a lot 🥺🥺🥺

- What is this dumbass doing… after all that happened with lava you want to be out in the middle of the woods for why… and starting a fire wonderful. Wolves……? OH NVM A BIGGER FIRE….

[adoremp3]

hello one, hello all! 

keep on reading below the cut to find all my current wips and completed fics! this is inclusive of chaptered fics and oneshots. i mainly write harry and ofc fic, but i’m delving into more niall and the occasional reader insert piece!

enjoy!

ONGOING FICS

state of grace — masterlist // story page // taglist

“Are you sure this isn’t going to affect your Uber rating?” Haley asks, though one hand sits quite high on his lap and the other grips his half-unbuttoned shirt.

“Fuck my rating,” he says breathlessly, his fingers toying with the hem of her shirt. “If I had it my way, you’d already be on my lap.”

A “just for tonight” spinoff in which Haley still has a broken heart and Niall tries to fix it.

such great heights — masterlist // story page // taglist

Graduating from Cambridge University and moving to London was always Kimber van der Berg’s dream, but after quickly landing a job she’s overqualified for, Kimber is now left to find herself a new flat in the big city. 

But as if fate would have it, in walks childhood best friend, Harry Styles, to answer all her prayers.

A story about (not) falling in love with your best friend.

ON HIATUS

curious minds — masterlist // story page // taglist

Some would say it’s fate that brought Mimi Lang and Harry Styles together, but they would much rather blame it on Mimi’s mother and Harry’s broken heart.

A uni AU in which Mimi is conflicted about life, Harry is amazed by the human mind, and how they both struggle to differentiate between what’s real and what’s fake.

COMPLETED FICS

in my heart — masterlist // story page // taglist

Val is certain she loves nothing more than Christmas. Her lipstick collection is a very close second, but once December hits, there is no chance in hell she will love anything more than what she claims to be the best time of the year.

What she doesn’t love, however, is Niall Horan. Nope, she doesn’t love him at all.

oxford comma — masterlist // story page // taglist

If there’s one thing Suzy Lestrange is hoping for, it’s getting through her second year of university without a hitch so that she can spend her third year abroad in France.

But when Harry Styles shows up in her life once again, she quickly finds herself trying to balance her studies with her personal life, and things have a tendency to not go in her favour.

A story of French insults, reminiscing over horrible teachers, taking initiative for once, and not giving a fuck about an Oxford comma.

ONESHOTS

just for tonight — read here

After a terrible week of her own, Wren thinks a bottle of wine and a hug from her best friend will send all her worries away. However, as she walks in his front door, she finds a surprise of her own: Harry Styles and his newly broken heart.

Maybe this one will require a bit more than a bottle of wine and a hug.

do i wanna know? — read here

Between a boss that’s the devil in disguise and parents amidst a divorce, it’s safe to say that when a distraction in the form of famous actor Harry Styles crashes into her life, Ivy Nash is going to very well take it (and in every position imaginable).

An AU tale of late night adventures, a whole lot of alcohol, and the downfalls of facing reality.

tick — read here

Allie thinks she can tick off all their uni hall tasks in one night.

So does Harry.

a very competitive au oneshot

BLURBS

unmatched — read here

not entirely sure how this happened, but it started out as a quick “hey, imagine this cute scenario” post and somehow turned into a small 650 word imagine. so… i guess enjoy some cute unedited harry fluff where you meet him at a gallery opening!

[xxlittle-miss-massacrexx]

Office Sex

(Ok so I haven’t written anything in a VERY long time. And I’m so sorry for gracing your screens with probably utter garbage, but my Hotch thirst is real!)

Y/N strolled into the BAU with a coffee in hand. It was late, and the only light she could see was coming from the Unit Chief’s office. Perfect, she thought to herself. She needed to speak to him anyway, and with him still being here and possibly the only one besides her, it’d give her that perfect opportunity.

This conversation needed to be private, and honestly she hoped he was in a better mood now than he had been earlier in the day. It wasn’t uncommon for him to be harsh during cases that really seemed to stress him out, but this time had been different. Whether he liked it or not, she was going to confront him about it.

With a soft but confident knock on the cracked door, she peeked around the corner to look at Hotch as he sat behind his desk.

“Y/N, what are you still doing in the office? I thought everyone went home already.”

“I just left for a coffee, I have paperwork I need to finish up and didn’t feel like going home,” She spoke, stepping more into the office to stand in front of his desk.

Hotch sat his pen down and interlaced his fingers as he watched her. “You know that could’ve been done tomorrow. Why don’t you want to go home?”

Y/N let out a sigh and brushed back her hair. “Honestly if I went home I’d drown myself in a bottle of wine that I’m not ready to open just yet. But since you’re still here, there is something I’d like to discuss,”

This peeked Hotch’s interest and he straightened more in his chair. “Very well, the floor is yours,”

Y/N released a steady breath as she took one last step toward his desk standing right across from him. “Earlier today, you sent me with Reid instead of doing what I SHOULD have done in that interrogation room. I want to know why I was punished.”

Hotch let out a sigh of his own and rubbed his fingers across his eyes. “Y/N we already discussed this didn’t we? It wasn’t a punishment, I had that interrogation under control. I needed you elsewhere.”

There it was again the same bullshit answer he had given to her after the case was resolved. She didn’t buy it then and certainly didn’t buy it now. “Why don’t we cut the bullshit out of this conversation and you tell me exactly what you’re thinking, because I know that is utter crap, with all due respect sir,” She was a bit nervous now as his hard gaze swept over her.

Hotch pushed away from his desk and stood, a hand still resting on the desk as his other parted his suit jacket to rest on his hip. “You want to know the truth, because I was trying to be nice here,”

His words caught her a little off guard. Here it goes, she just lost her job. “Yes sir I want your honesty, I know that’s just some bullshit excuse.” She kept her gaze on him as he moved around the desk to stand beside her.

“You were being reckless in that room, antagonizing him. If I wasn’t in that room, he would’ve made a move to take you and that wasn’t going to keep going on. I wasn’t going to sit there and let you put yourself in jeopardy much less irritate me.”

Y/N stared back at him, almost unsure of where to go from there. She was being reckless? Isn’t that what he had done when he turned into angry Hotch and took lead? “What was so wrong about that? We were trying to get that guy to confess. I fit the description of his victims Hotch. If I had stayed in that room we would’ve had him sooner than we did.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened the slightest as he brought a hand up to rub at his forehead in irritation. “Y/N are you trying to say I didn’t do my job correctly? Would you rather I have left the room and let him tell you all the things he would do to you before he killed you?”

And she was at a loss for words again. Why? She was never this speechless around him. They were close, closer than she was with the rest of the team. So why, when he was giving her valid reasons for sending her away, was she so speechless to apologize for acting this way with him? She lifted her gaze back to his eyes before letting out a sigh, finally able to mutter a ‘sorry’ before uncrossing her arms and reaching for her coffee that sat on his desk.

Hotch moved and grabbed her wrist stopping her in her tracks. It wasn’t often he would touch her, but when he did, her mind was always flooded with inappropriate thoughts. Her eyes met his as he closed the distance between them. “S..Sir?” She stuttered, unable to move as she looked at him.

“Y/N, today was very reckless, and I don’t want it to happen again,” He spoke, his hand still easily wrapped around her wrist. All she could do was nod as her eyes moved to look at his hand on her. Her heart was thudding away in her chest as she thought of all the possible things those hands could do to her.

“Look at me,” He spoke in a stern voice. Her eyes instantly met his and heat flooded straight to her core. God how she wanted this man, if only he knew. But before she could continue with her thoughts, her bottom was pressed to the edge of his desk and he was in front of her, his hand abandoning her wrist to hold her hips in place against the desk. Was she dreaming?

“I know this is very inappropriate of me Y/N, but I’ve been refraining from taking you for a while now, and today, today was the final blow to my resistance,” Hotch spoke, his hand pulling his tie loose as he kept her pinned against the desk. “I’m giving you one last chance to leave this office, take it now,” He paused for a moment, allowing her to leave if she wished it.

When she didn’t make a move to leave or even a stutter of a protest, Hotch moved lifting her onto the edge of the desk in a searing kiss. Y/N’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck, in an instant returning the kiss. Her mind was gone, and all that consumed her was him. Her hands moved from his neck to roam his chest, pushing at his jacket as they continued to kiss. His hands left her only for a second to throw the jacket to the floor. She took the moment to start on the buttons of her blouse, lips still connected as he laid her back onto the desk, scattering his paperwork in the process.

Hotch sat up, separating their lips to stare down at her. She was a puddle lying underneath him, her hands stopping from her blouse to reach out and touch him. His hands moved past hers, grabbing at the fabric of her shirt before ripping it open, buttons flying across the room. She could’ve came right then and there. She sure as hell wasn’t going to cry over the death of her favorite shirt right now, she would mourn later.

Hotch’s mouth latched onto her chest, sucking and biting right above her black lace bra. Her breath was ragged as she clutched at his hair, moaning out his name. “Aaron,” She bit her bottom lip, as her hands tried to reach the buttons of his shirt.

As if saying his first name did something to him, Hotch pulled back from her, yanking her skirt down her legs. The look in his eyes was clouded, lust driving him mad as he looked her over. “Y/N you’ve always been such a beautiful sight,” he spoke, starting at the buttons on his shirt quickly as he looked her over.

“Aaron, please for the love of God fuck me already,” Y/N was breathless as she watched his bare chest slowly appear to her. Hotch smirked lightly as he tugged his belt undone and let his pants fall to his ankles.

Hotch moved, lifting her slightly off the desk, one hand at her back as the other tangled into her hair, and before she could move to kiss him, he had slammed into her. Her head fell back into his hand in pure ecstasy. “Oh, fuck,” She moaned out, her hands clinging onto his shoulders as he instantly set a bruising pace into her, one of his hands gripping her hip now. She hoped he would leave a bruise there just for her to remember this by, not that she would forget.

Hotch pressed her back down onto the desk, bending her knees at his hips as he slammed deeper into her. And that change of angle was all it took for the both of them. Y/N cried out his name as she reached her peak, tightening around him and forcing him to come as well. He spilled into her, laying against her chest in a sweaty mess. They both stared at each other, regaining their breaths. Her hands swept his sweaty hair from his face and she couldn’t help but smile. “If I get this every time I misbehave, perhaps I’ll do it again tomorrow,”

Hotch let out a chuckle as his lips pressed to hers again, pulling out of her and grabbing some tissues from his desk to gently clean her up. “Get dressed, you’re coming home with me,” He spoke, bending to pull up his pants.

Y/N sat up, pulling her underwear and skirt back in place. “Well, you destroyed my favorite shirt, so what do you suggest I do sir?” She questioned, looking at her destroyed shirt as it laid on the ground.

Hotch smirked as he bent and picked it up looking at the mess he had made of it. “Sorry, I’ll replace it,” He spoke, tossing his suit jacket around her shoulder and clipping the buttons to hide her body from the cameras in the hall.

Hotch smirked as he bent and picked it up looking at the mess he had made of it. “Sorry, I’ll replace it,” He spoke, tossing his suit jacket around her shoulder and clipping the buttons to hide her body from the cameras in the hall.

Y/N smirked and hopped off his desk, grabbing her heels that had fallen off during their heated activities. “Oh and, we’re definitely using your office again,” She spoke, looking back at him as she reached his office door.

Hotch laughed, his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes, “I was going to say the same thing to you,” He spoke, moving a hand to her back as they left his office and went home to share a bed.

[written-on-the-trees]

Strawberry Necklace Part 1 - Yungblud Fan Fiction

Word Count: 2175

Warnings: None, for this part. Smut, fem-dom, and prostitution for the whole story.

Summary: Nova was right; Dom is more interested in her than he probably should be...just as she is in him.

Where else can you find this:  Ao3  |  Wattpad

Take It Easy, Boy  |  Part Two

"You have a last-minute appointment this evening." Robert poked his head around the door to Nova's dressing room, raising an eyebrow at her semi-dressed state: "I know it's a little late, but I didn't think you'd mind when you found out which client it was."

 Nova forwent getting ready for her next client entirely - even though she was technically already behind schedule - to twist in the mirrored vanity's chair to grin at Robert: "Is it my favourite little punk sweetheart?"

 Robert rolled his eyes: "You're the wrong side of thirty to be calling him that."

 "Rude." Nova pointed a French manicured nail at her friend: "Remember, we don't discuss ages, lest I remind you that I am the younger one of us."

 Robert flipped her off, laughing openly at her 'telling off': "Better hurry if you're going to be ready for your two o'clock."

   Nova laughed as Robert slipped away, his stockinged feet silent on the floors.

 As fun as it was to bicker with him, though, he was right - if she wanted to be ready on time, she would need to get a move on and stop being distracted. Which meant putting her favourite punk boy to the back of her mind for now.

 She deliberately didn't think about him as she slid into an ivory satin underwear set, garter belt, and nude stockings. She left the gauzy ivory robe off for now, hanging on the wardrobe door above the nine-inch crystal-encrusted stilettos, wandering around in the stockings and a fluffy dressing gown while she did her hair and make-up. Thankfully this particular client preferred a 'natural' look, so although she wore more make-up than he would ever realise, it didn't take her as long as some of her more elaborate looks, and her hair could be left how it was: wavy from where it had just been released from the braid she'd had it in over-night. A little hairspray and she was good to go, fifteen minutes early and now with plenty of time to go back to thinking about the person she was trying not to.

 She was failing. Miserably.

 Dominic Harrison was starting to take up residence in her mind quite a bit recently - so much she was considering starting to charge him rent, as well as what he paid for her services.

   He'd probably pay it too.

   It was sad, but true.

 Nova wasn't inexperienced - she knew how to read people, and Dom liked her a lot more than he should. Most of the time, when clients got like that, Nova gently pushed them out of her schedule until she didn't see them anymore, but not with Dom.

 Because she liked him more than she should, too.

   A lot more.

   If she was being fair to herself, Nova knew there was only so much she could help it. Dom was likable in almost everything she'd seen him in, swinging between enthusiastic and earnest all with so much love and passion it was hard not to be charmed - and that was even before she thought about their personal interactions. It wasn't even just the sex (although she couldn't deny his particular brand of eagerness didn't affect her a little more than other clients' did) it was literally everything about him.

 He was a genuine sweetheart - it was hard not to like him.

 Since he'd been coming around more often in the last few months, he’d really started to relax and open up to her about his life: the songs he was writing, the things his agents had booked for him, the places he was going. It was all a little bit vague (secrecy was important: Nova understood that perfectly), but even that vagueness couldn't hide how excited he was. It was clear that he enjoyed what he did, and it always made their conversations stand out to her.

 And he wasn’t the only one sharing. Even though she kept her own secrets just as Dom kept his, that didn't stop her from mentioning inconsequential things about herself like her favourite type of fruit or that, that foxes were her favourite animals, or the fact that outside of work she never wore rings (nothing he could use to ever link her to her real life; after all, secrecy was important)...and as if just having him listen wasn't enough to make Nova smile, every now and then he would bring her gifts that always seemed to be linked back to one of their conversations. That always tugged at Nova’s heartstrings.

Dom wasn’t the only client who brought her gifts - she had a few that were into financial domination, and even without them Nova had a room in her flat full of expensive clothes, shoes, and jewellery, perfumes, and just about everything she could think of, all bought for her by clients - but Dom’s presents were the only ones that were in any way personal to her.

A bottle of strawberry and cherry rosé - a lot cheaper than what she was used to, but all the more delicious because Dom had bought it because he thought she might like it after she mentioned she liked sweet wines, not to show off how much he could drop on a bottle of wine for a hooker. A punnet of nectarines, before he passed through a market on his way to their appointment, and they looked nice and ripe and colourful, and 'sweet like you are'. A bar of Cadbury’s ‘Marvellous Creations’, because apparently he’d recently tried chocolate with popping candy in for the first time, and wanted to share the revelation with her.

Small, but truly sweet presents. The kind of presents that people bought for people that actually gave a shit about, and that was the bit that bothered Nova - because that kind of thing never ended well.

 When she'd been young - and stupid - she'd fallen for a client that had fallen for her.

 It wasn't exactly unusual; sexual intimacy, especially on a regular basis, paired with supposed 'friendliness' that was really just good customer service, could often be misconstrued for romantic feelings, especially developing ones. Nova's client had made that mistake, and when he'd started caring about her, she'd made the mistake of caring back. It had gone from a business transaction where he paid her for sex, to him paying her for sex and bringing her presents he thought she would like, to her taking him home: her real home, not the flat she had been working out of. He'd stopped being a client, and became James.

 At first, it had been great...a year later she was alone, penniless, and homeless. James hadn't liked her, he'd just liked the idea of her, and once that illusion had been dispelled by the pair of them living together, and her dropping her 'Madam' persona, he'd lost interest and started resenting her for not being who he thought she was.

   Dom would be the same.

   Even if he wasn't...Nova wasn't the same naive - the stupid - girl she'd been at twenty-two. She wasn't going to risk going back to that hopeless position of broken, heartsick, and destitute, not even for someone as sweet as Dom. At the end of the day, he was a client, and when you stripped away all Nova's airs and graces, she was a prostitute.

 And just in case she ever forgot, she heard the doorbell ring, signalling her next client had arrived.

 Nova slipped out of the fluffy robe and slid into the gauzy, pearlescent one, before stepping into the diamanté shoes. She checked her hair in the mirror, and fixed her face into the contemptuous sneer this made this particular client so hot under the collar.

 It was time to go to work.

      Nova climbed into the shower two hours later, fighting the urge to scream in frustration.

 In truth, she had no reason to be so dramatic. Her session had been an easy one; all she'd done was stalk around the dining room in her diamanté high heels, snarling and sneering while Mr Snow sat at the table with his phone, buying her all the expensive things she could think to command him to. Then he'd sat there while she put on the diamond necklace he'd bought her last time, making sure to touch the inner curves of her breasts plenty as she did it, stood next to him and propped one foot on the table so he could see the shoes he'd bought for on her feet, and spritzed herself with perfume he'd paid for, moaning dramatically as she did it.

 He'd come untouched, and thanked her for putting him in his place, before she told him he was disgusting and to get out of her sight. Mr Snow didn't like her breaking character; he was old fashioned that way, so even though Nova would've liked to have checked on him, she didn't. He was paying her to be a bitch so she'd forced him to leave without showering while she hid in the bathroom and tried not to feel like she was going mad.

 It was proving slightly difficult.

 Thinking about James had put her in a bad place, and comparing him to Dom had done her no favours, especially since he was constantly invading her thoughts. Now she couldn't think of the sweet way Dom smiled without seeing James' charming smile just behind it, and that was fucking with her.

 She wasn't hurt by what had happened with James anymore; it had been ten years ago, by now the hurt had faded and the confusion had cleared, leaving Nova with nothing but memories and the knowledge that he had been a prick and she had been an idiot. Now that relationship was a lesson - a warning not to get involved romantically with clients, no matter what a good idea it might seem.

 Even thinking about it was pointless.

 At the end of the day, she was a dominatrix, and Dom was a client: he paid her to indulge his kinks. Even if that wasn't the case, he was so young, and so painfully eager to please - more than just in the bedroom - and so inexperienced that Nova honestly wasn't sure she wouldn't be taking advantage of Dom if they started having anything other than a business transaction. Just like James had taken advantage of her.

 Nova never wanted to put someone in the position she had been put in. Especially not someone like Dom.

 Dom wasn't a bad person - far from it. He was just an enthusiastic and inexperienced kid who was in over his head when it came to their relationship - or, rather, the lack thereof. He thought just because they liked each other, that things could work out. That love would conquer all. Nova had seen it before, and she had no doubt she would see it again...but that didn't make it the truth. Love couldn't conquer everything, and sometimes it was better to just leave it alone.

 For his own good, and the sake of protecting her own heart, Nova needed to make sure that things remained professional...or she needed to stop seeing him. Anything else would just be unfair on both of them.

 Which meant no more moping around in the shower.

 Turning the hot water off, Nova twisted the excess water out of her hair and stepped out of the shower. Dom's preferred look was mildly complicated, allowing Nova to focus on drying her hair enough so it looked dry and she could pull it back into a perfect bun at the crown of her head, before going straight into doing her make-up. Red lipstick, neat black eye-liner, subtle contouring, no time to think about anything but what she was doing. She changed into another pair of nude stockings, a black pencil skirt and crisp white shirt, sliding her feet into the eight-inch Louboutins with the narrow strap around the ankle that Dom seemed to like so much, before looking at the clock.

   Six fifty-eight.

   Nova watched the second hand ticking away, until at seven on the dot the doorbell rang.

 She counted to sixty, keeping time with the second hand on the clock, before she rose from the chair in front of her dressing table and before heading out of the room, her eight-inch Louboutins clacking on the polished tile of the hallway.

   "Look at you, pretty boy, exactly on time." she teased: "Tell me, were you waiting on my doorstep for the clock to hit seven?"

   Dom blushed - but that was all the answer Nova needed to know she was right. And not just about him being waiting outside until it turned seven before he rang the doorbell. The look in his eyes wasn't just embarrassment; he was happy to see her. More than happy, even. He was overjoyed, and she had been right.

 He was in way over his head.