#Smart Flip Mirror Stand

[fingertipsmp3]

Save me skincare routine. Save me stupidly expensive skincare routine in tiny bottles

[mysaintkitten]

hii first of all i just wanna say your writing is amazing & you are so very talented 🤍!!!! every time i see you’ve posted something i can’t wait to read it :]

anyway!! i was hoping i could request a jonathan crane x reader fic in which he gets jealous and protective over his gf <3 reader is really pretty (like one of those pinterest or ig baddies) and not the type of girl people typically picture a doctor dating lmaoaoao but he gets jealous n stuff bc people hit on her 😭 ugh i’m rambling now but ty ily 🤍

thank you so so much !! you are so kind !! i appreciate it very very much !! ilyt !!

Claimed | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

prompt: someone tries to flirt with you at an event, and jonathan doesn’t take it lightly (NSFW!! NO MINORS!!)

WARNINGS: brief awkward interactions with pushy men, mentions of spiked drinks/possible death, implications of murders/killing, unprotected sex (p in v), jonathan and reader are both possessive, breeding/pregnancy kink, squirting, creampie

word count: 4.3k *not proofread*

“sweetheart, we’ve gotta go soon!” jonathan calls out to you from the front room. he stands in front of a large full body mirror making some final adjustments before he leaves. he takes a deep breath and slides a small syringe into his pocket. hopefully he won’t have to use it, but tonight could be hectic.

there’s a large event in gotham tonight and jonathan wants to make sure he looks his absolute best before showing up. though, he doesn’t think he’ll have to worry so much. with you on his arm, he doubts anyone will be paying much attention to his looks.

jonathan wasn’t an ugly man by any means, but you’ve lost track of how many times people told you that you’re out of his league. you didn’t see it. he’s handsome, smart, and sweet. well, sweet towards you, at least. and that’s what mattered.

“i’m coming, just hold on!” you shout back from the bedroom as you slip on your heels. you quickly walk towards the vanity before flattening our your dress and shifting it around so it hugs your body just right. once you’re happy, you head out and meet jonathan in the front room. as soon as he sees you, his anxiety begins to fade and a proud grin appears on his lips.

“darling ..” he coos as he begins to take a few steps to meet you in the middle. he runs his hands along your arms and kisses you softly, making sure he doesn’t ruin your makeup in any way.

“do i look nice?” you ask, jonathan chuckles breathily. “you look stunning, my love. now come on, we’ve gotta go.”

you sigh as he lightly grabs your wrist and starts to lead you outside, “nothing wrong with being fashionably late, jon.”

the drive to the event is rather quiet, you stare out the window, jonathan stays fixated on the road with his hand on your thigh. after a few minutes pass and you begin to arrive closer to the event jonathan decides to give you a brief rundown of what to expect.

“all right, these people will be obnoxious. and pretentious. and dull. but all you have to do is smile and nod and look pretty, okay?” jonathan asks sweetly. he’s not exactly asking you, he’s telling you. but you don’t mind, this is his event after all, you’re really just there to be eye candy. a subtle little ‘fuck you’ to the people who doubted him and his abilities to find love. jonathan was perpetually single for years until he met you, and the people around him made it their mission to never allow him to forget it. but you flipped a switch within him. his soft, gentle side began to spill out more and more. although he still definitely kept his cold and calculated side, he just tried to keep it away from you as best he could.

jonathan pulls up to the gotham museum where the event is being held. there’s a handful of people outside, standing and talking, but the real business is going down inside. you start to feel a bit nervous, you knew this event was going to be big, but this was more than you had anticipated.

you glance over to jonathan and flash him a smile, hoping to convey authentic happiness, but when you see him frown slightly in response you realize you weren’t very convincing.

“it’ll be all right, darling. i promise. you can cling to my arm the entire night, no one will bother you.” he whispers, petting the side of your face gently, “they know what i’m capable of.”

the implication of violence gave you chills. it was hot knowing how evil and dangerous he could be, while on the flip side be so affectionate and loving. he’d get down on all fours for you, kiss the ground you walk on. he had never felt that way about anyone, not in the slightest. in fact, he held partial animosity towards most people. some stronger than others. after years of being picked on and ridiculed, it’s not surprising he felt this way.

you nod at his words and form a genuine smile, making jonathan smile in return.

“let’s head inside.” he hums.

you exit the car with jonathan and begin to approach the museum, already noticing people look your way and whisper amongst themselves. you wrap your arm around jonathan’s, holding him close as you enter the event.

as you’re inside for merely a few moments, taking in the scenery and people around you, you hear someone shout from afar.

“crane!”

you and jonathan’s heads shoot over to the direction of the shout, where you’re met with a man you’ve never seen before. you feel a bit worried, but then you look over at jonathan who’s smiling. you begin to relax, if he’s not worried, you’re not worried.

the man is finally face to face with jonathan, where he grins widely and sticks out his hand. jonathan laughs and shakes the man’s hand, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

jonathan notices your confusion and breaks the handshake to speak to you, “darling, this is a friend of mine from university, his name is dr. fiske.”

you’ve heard of dr. fiske before. jonathan said he was his only friend throughout university. it’s nice to finally put a face to a name. you smile shyly at him and stick your hand out to shake his hand, “pleasure to meet you.”

he shakes your hand and nods, “same to you, miss.”

“is this your girl, crane?” dr. fiske asks, a smirk forming on his face as he drops your hand.

jonathan nods while grinning proudly, “she’s all mine.”

“look at jonny go!” he exclaims happily, smacking jonathan’s arm playfully. jonathan laughs and shrugs, “i know, i know. i got very lucky.”

you can’t help but smile at his words, he always made sure you knew how much he appreciated you and how lucky he got with you. but to hear him tell it to others really solidified his love for you, you’d never been put on such a pedestal by a partner before.

“well, i won’t hold you guys up. it was nice to see you crane, and it was nice to meet you ma’am.” dr. fiske adds before leaving to head to another area of the event.

the night goes well. jonathan talks to people, and you do as he asked. smiled, nodded, looked pretty. and he was right, these people were like parasites. energy leeches. it was becoming more and more difficult to feign this contentment when your annoyance was beginning to boil inside of you. you can only hear so many rich pricks ramble about how great they are in one night.

luckily, the conversations begin to fizzle out.

“would you like to get a drink?” jonathan questions, already knowing what your response will be.

“yes, please.” you sigh with relief. it would be much easier to pretend to be interested if you were drunk, but having to do all this sober was really putting your acting skills to the test.

jonathan chuckles and leads you to the bar, “stay here for a moment, darling. i need to use the restroom. don’t move, i’ll be right back. order yourself whatever you’d like.”

he gives you a quick peck on the cheek before heading off to the bathroom. you really didn’t want to be alone surrounded by people you didn’t know. but you’re grown, and you remember what jonathan said. they know what i’m capable of.

“gin and tonic, please.” you order politely, the bartender mumbles and begins to make your drink.

as you stand there, clicking your nails against the counter while you wait, you’re disrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“here all by yourself, hun?”

you quickly swing around with a confused expression on your face, and you’re met with an extremely tall stranger that reeks of alcohol. you have no idea who this man is, or why he’s decided to talk to you out of all people. of course this would happen the moment jonathan leaves your side.

“uh .. no, actually. i’m here with my boyfriend.” you respond flatly as you hear the sound of the bartender placing your drink down behind you, you thank them and grab your drink, bringing it up to your lips and taking a small sip.

“well .. he doesn’t seem to be around, love.” the man noticed while slurring, “doesn’t he know better than to leave a pretty thing like you unattended?”

“he’ll be back soon. and trust me, he will not be happy to see you talking to me.” you warn, feeling irritated at this man’s inability to take no for an answer.

he clicks his tongue and tilts his head, “aw. can’t even have a conversation with you? that’s too bad .. i’ll give him something to get angry over ..” he laughs as his hand begins to meet your hip, you push his chest back firmly, spilling a bit of your drink in the process.

“don’t touch me!” you snap, hoping to god that jonathan hurries up and saves you.

“sweetheart ..” the man chuckles lowly, putting his hands up defensively, “relax, now. what your little boyfriend can’t see won’t hurt him, right?” he whispers as he reaches to touch your hips again.

you go to push him again, “i said don’t touch me!”

in the midsts of your rage, your eyes meet with jonathan. he may be far away, but you can tell he’s fuming. he nudges people out of the way and quickly strides over to you, his expression becoming angrier by the moment. suddenly, he’s behind the man’s back with a drink in his hand. his gaze burning into the back of his head.

“is there a problem here?” jonathan growled, the man turns around and scoffs. jonathan’s visibly shorter than the man, but that doesn’t faze jonathan in the slightest. the man scoffs at him, “not at all, man. just chatting with this lovely lady.”

jonathan’s gaze switches to you, and you shake your head slightly, trying to convey to jonathan that you didn’t want to talk to this man at all. he knew what you were trying to say, and he knew this wasn’t your fault.

“interesting,” jonathan responds unamused, “well hopefully you’ve said all you needed to say. come on, darling. let’s go.”

he reaches his hand out for you and you quickly latch onto him, avoiding making eye contact with the unfamiliar man.

he laughs, “wait wait, this is your boyfriend? jesus.”

jonathan wanted to leave as soon as possible to avoid causing a scene, but these little digs were making it harder for him to think rationally.

“yup. she’s all mine.” jonathan sighs, “feel free to look. but you cannot touch.”

the man laughs, not realizing how scarily serious jonathan is being. the energy is making you extremely uncomfortable. he swallows and forces a smile, “here, man. no hard feelings.”

jonathan hands his drink over to the man, to which he accepts it and nods. “yeah man, no hard feelings.” he mumbles while taking a sip. you’re confused. jonathan has never behaved like this. normally, he’d resort to getting violent, yet he gave this man a drink like it was some sort of reward.

you clench harder on jonathan’s arm and the two of you turn to leave, you hear the man make one final comment from behind you;

“keep me in mind, sweetheart. i know you’ll be thinking about me.”

you shudder from discomfort, speeding up your pace as you head towards the door.

once in the car, you sit awkwardly in the passenger seat, unable to relax.

jonathan gets into the drivers seat and slams the door, “goddamn prick ..” he groans, aggressively putting on his seatbelt.

“baby, i’m sorry, he came up to me and he wouldn’t take no for an answer ..” your voice trails off as you can’t figure out what else to say

“no, no, darling, it’s not you ..” he assures, “it’s that stupid fucking bastard in there. who does he think he is? what makes him think he’s worthy of your attention?” though jonathan knows you wouldn’t betray him like that, he’s irritated at the man’s attempt.

you rub jonathan’s arm, “he’s arrogant. and he’s probably never been told no in his life .. he couldn’t win me over if he was the last man on earth.”

jonathan huffs and begins to drive off, you remember how jonathan gave him his drink.

“baby?” you whisper, interlocking your fingers with his,

“hm?” he responds, not taking his eyes off the road,

“why’d you give him your drink?”

he grins while remembering, “well, i couldn’t drink it anyway. i had to drive us home.”

that makes sense now that you think about it, maybe he was offered a drink and accepted it to be nice.

“and i slipped something into the drink.”

your expression drops, “what?”

jonathan just shrugs and continues to grin, “he needs to learn a lesson. i guess he just didn’t know what i’m capable of, but now he’ll know.”

what you didnt know at the time was as jonathan began to approach you, he slipped the syringe out of his pocket (which you didn’t even know about to begin with) and squirted the concoction into the drink hastily. your heart starts to race a bit, a mixture of fear and admiration. he really would do whatever to protect you. you don’t know how severely he’s hurt this man, whether the drink will simply knock him out or flat out kill him. you didn’t know, and that gave you a rush. he was already tipsy anyway, whatever happens to him won’t get pinned on jonathan.

“i’d do whatever for you, darling. anything.” he hums, clenching your hand harder, “i know, i know ..” you agree, “i’d do anything for you, too. i’m yours.”

he groans and loosened his grip on your hand, shifting your hand down lower between his legs, “all mine, pretty girl. all mine.”

you gasp softly as he guides your hand to his growing bulge, “you get so many men all worked up, baby .. yet i’m the one that gets to touch you, and hear all those pretty noises you make as you come undone.”

you run your hand along his clothed cock without his guidance and you feel yourself becoming aroused as your thighs tense together, the intensity of the situation was making your heart pound and your mind foggy.

before you know it, he’s pulled up outside of the house.

“get inside, go into the bedroom. i expect to see you ready by the time i get there.” he purrs, you hum while taking your hand off of his bulge, quickly heading inside and shutting the door behind you before kicking off your shoes. before you’re even near the bedroom you begin to unzip your dress, giggling quietly as you hear jonathan enter through the front door, locking it behind him while sliding off his shoes.

as you stand in the bedroom, you fully slide the dress off, tossing it on top of the hamper before quickly unclasping your bra and sliding off your panties. you scramble, slightly breathlessly, onto the bed, and lay back as you wait patiently for him.

a few moments later, jonathan enters, sighing at what he sees.

“oh, my girl ..” he purrs, walking over to the bed before crawling onto it, planting kisses on your ankles as he works his way up your legs, “so well behaved .. all for me ..” he praises as his kisses make their way to your thighs, where you slowly spread your legs apart for him. he groans at your pussy, continuing his desperate kisses along your inner thigh.

“look at that pussy ..” he hums lowly while using his index and middle finger to spread your lips apart, “god. i’ve killed men over this cunt, you know that, darling?”

you whimper at his tone as you shake your head, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth while staring down at him.

“well ..” he coos while sliding a finger inside of you, “i have. i’ve kept track of the men that have harassed you, hurt you, annoyed you, hell, even the men that looked at you the wrong way. notice how you’ve never seen them again?”

the more you think about it, the more you realize you never had to deal with these men more than once. the incident would occur, you’d tell jonathan, and he’d take care of it. it’s sickeningly attractive to know how far jonathan will go for you, knowing how absolutely pussy whipped you’ve made him.

you gasp as he slowly fucks you with his middle finger, your mind finding it hard to focus on one specific thing.

“for .. for me?” you whimper, feeling yourself becoming slicker

“all for you, my love.” he sighed against your thigh as he continues to place small kisses along your inner thighs, his lips inching closer to your swollen clit, “all for you.” he whispers one last time before suckling gently on your clit while continuing to finger you, sneaking a second finger in while you writhe beneath him.

“o-oh ..” you moan, “jonathan, please ..”

your pussy clenches around his fingers and he hums against your clit, slipping a third finger in as you whimper loudly,

“j-jonathan, please!” you mewl, snaking your fingers down into jonathan’s head and tightly locking your fingers into his hair, he briefly pulls off and continues to finger you while groaning “let me taste your pretty pussy for a bit longer, darling ..”

your cheeks burn at his praise, your thighs beginning to twitch around his head as you become wetter, the sounds of his slick tongue and drenched fingers become even louder. lewd squelches and soft whimpers are all that can be heard, along with jonathan’s occasional hums against your clit.

he can feel you become close, he’s able to recognize your involuntary jolts and twitches all too well. he pulls his fingers out and takes his lips off you, huffing quietly as he brings his slick fingers up to his mouth and sucking the arousal off.

the dirty act makes your chest flutter, he’s so desperate to taste each and every drop of you, trying his absolute hardest to make sure none of it goes to waste. once his fingers are cleaned, he brings his hands down to his zipper and button, where he urgently unbuttons and unzips his pants.

“who do you belong to, baby?”

“‘m yours, jon ..” you moan, batting your lashes at him. he groans as his jaw hangs slightly slack while he tugs his pants down, his cock nearly bursting out of his boxers. he palms himself while staring down at you, “‘n who do i belong to?” he smirks,

it rarely crossed your mind that the possessiveness went both ways, you were normally so enamoured by jonathan and his admiration for you that you rarely considered anyone else as a threat. but occasionally, jonathan would get hit on in front of you, and it would make you immensely angry and insecure. he’d barely even look in the same direction as other women, yet they’d still somehow think that was a sign to approach him. he’d shoot them down harshly. even the women that you felt could easily take your place, jonathan’s loyalty towards you never faltered. he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have to go to the same limits that he would to keep outsiders eyes off of you.

you shake those thoughts aside to respond to him while biting your lip, “you’re mine ..”

he hums in approval while sliding down his boxers, both the boxers and his pants now sitting at his mid thigh, “that’s right, darling.”

he inches his hips forward and runs his cock head along your folds, spreading the slick around before teasing your clit with his tip. pressing against the bud and gently moving his cock side to side, watching as you wriggled at the teasing.

he chuckles and dips his cock back to your opening, slowly sliding just his tip in before pulling it back out, fucking you agonizingly slow with the head.

“d’you know how many men are gonna be jerking off to the thought of you? ‘n how many of them wish they could just get a glimpse of your pussy .. let alone sit here and tease it ..” he breathed, beginning to slowly side more of his cock inside you. your breath hitches at the developing fullness, “more .. please ..”

“aw, poor baby,” he coos almost condescendingly, “you want me to fuck you properly?”

you nod mindlessly and huff, purposefully clenching around him in hopes of getting him to put his full length inside. it partially works, you think, as he groans and slides more inside, still not bottoming out yet.

“use your words, darling.” jonathan commands, halting his movements again and leaving just his tip inside once more.

“please, jonathan .. please fuck me properly ..” you whimper embarrassingly, as those words leave your mouth he laughs breathily before sliding his full length in, nearly knocking the wind out of you as he thrusts back out and pounds into you again. he forms a quick, rough pace that makes you nearly cry with pleasure.

“o-oh, mmh, fuck!” you whine loudly, your back arching as jonathan’s cock forcefully hits your most sensitive areas.

“this cunts all mine, you hear me?” he groans while gripping your thigh with one hand and grabbing your face with the other, “if i wanna fuck it, slap it, breed it, abuse it, whatever i want. it’s mine. right, baby?”

you nod quickly with furrowed brows, pathetic little mewls falling from your lips as you stare at him through your lashes. you loved this duality about jonathan. sometimes you’d purposefully rile him up just to get him to fuck you angrily and almost animalistic. sometimes, he’ll make love to you and praise you the entire time like you’re a goddess that’s a blessing on this earth, other times he’d fuck you like you’re a filthy whore that’s sole purpose is to be stuffed full of cock. you needed both in moderation. right now, you were long overdue for one of his dirty rough fucks, so it’s kind of nice the way things panned out tonight.

“wanna breed this pussy so goddamn bad .. you like how that sounds, sweetheart? you want me to fuck a baby into you?” he purrs, his grip on your face and hip still tight, you nod and moan loudly, “y-yes, jonathan!”

he chuckles before quickly switching to a low groan as he feels you become slicker around him, “god .. you’re gonna look so fucking good all nice ‘n full .. i’ll make you my wife .. you want that, hm?”

“yes, yes!” you ramble as your mind goes blank, it feels nearly primal. like deep down, you’re just two ravenous, hungry creatures who need each others bodies and want to reproduce. that’s all humans are really meant to do, isn’t it?

“good girl .. such a good girl .. i’ll take such good care of you and our baby, darling ..” he hums, “open your mouth for me ..”

you lazily open your mouth and stick out your tongue, small whimpers being punched out of you as you do so. after grinning at how malleable you are in his hands, he spits in your mouth. he doesn’t even need to tell you to swallow, you do it anyway.

“that’s it, god you’re fucking perfect ..” he praised, it made you feel so dirty, your mind running on overdrive at the intense amounts of pleasure. you hadn’t even realized how close you were until you felt yourself beginning to slowly tip over the edge. this didn’t feel like your normal orgasms though, you felt something different within you.

suddenly, through jonathan’s harsh thrusts, your orgasm spills out of you while you whimper loudly. the clear liquid poured out of you and dampened the blanket beneath you along with jonathan’s pants. you twitch at the after shocks of your orgasm and jonathan’s pace never slows, “look at that .. drenched my fuckin’ pants baby ..”

“i’m sorry, ‘m sorry i couldn’t control it ..” you apologize as your cheeks flush from the embarrassment, you had never squirted before, and now you feel partially guilty for ruining his pants. not too guilty, though, because your other senses are still being dulled by the feeling of his cock pounding into you.

“no, don’t apologize, sweet girl .. ‘s cute .. made you feel so good, you made such a mess ..” he soothes, loosening his grip on you face and sliding his hand down to grip the other side of your hip with his now free hand.

his thrusts begin to get shaky and his breaths get heavier, “gonna come- fuck, baby, ‘m gonna come ..” he huffs through gritted teeth, his eyes shutting tightly as his grips get harsher. after a few more pumps, he’s coming inside you. groaning lowly as he holds your hips tightly against his, making sure he shoots his load as deeply inside of you as he can.

he thrusts a few more times to really get his come in there before slowly pulling out his softening cock. he leans back on his knees, you scan him up and down from between your legs. his cheeks are pink, his hair is messy, his forehead is sweaty, his glasses have slid down the middle of his nose bridge, his chest rises and falls laboredly, and his almost fully soft cock sits between his legs, his pants still around his thighs with a large visible damp mark from when you had orgasmed.

once he’s caught his breath, jonathan speaks;

“maybe other men should flirt with you more often.” he chuckles.

—

i have to be honest, i don’t think this is good at all, but i hope you guys at least like it! i’m sorry it’s taken me a while! i’ll be back on track soon! :)

[lipglossanon]

Someday

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (beach one shot)

this went in a weird direction but instead of scrapping it, I’m posting so 🤷‍♀️ enjoy lmao lots of smut 👌

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, protective Leon, perv Leon, kissing, dirty talk, nipple play, teasing, grinding, public sexual situations lol, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread

Title from Someday by Sugar Ray ☀️

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

This place is warm without a care

We'll take a swim in the deep blue sea

I go to leave and you reach for me

—"Someday"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"Quit pushing!"

"But you're in my space!"

"If you guys don't behave, I will turn this car around!"

The squabbling in the back seat cut short as Leon glares you. 

He leans over and flicks your arm when you’re not looking; you hiss at the sting, smacking him on the forearm in retaliation. 

"Leon," his dad warningly calls out from the driver’s seat, looking at him through the rear view mirror. 

"What?" he glares at you still, rubbing the smarting skin, "she literally started it, I was just paying her back.”

"Yeah, but you know better," his dad sighs before moving his attention to you, “please let’s all just get along and enjoy our day.”

You smile, “Of course,” turning your attention to Leon you bat your eyelashes, “I am so sorry, big brother.” 

"Whatever," he rolls his eyes, flipping you off once his dad turns back to the road.

Your mom claps her hands, “Look alive kids, we’re here!”

"Finally," Leon breaths out, opening the passenger door and slipping out once his dad parks the car. 

Everyone piles out of the vehicle and makes their way to the back hatch. Your stepdad opens it and pulls out the coolers holding food and drinks.

"Here make yourself useful,” Leon sneers as he shoves a tote full of towels and sunblock into your arms. 

Your mom pats you on the back, “I got the beach umbrella so we’ll go find a spot!”

You stick your tongue out at Leon and turn along with your mom to walk along the boardwalk to the sandy beach below. It doesn’t take long to find a decent spot, staking down the umbrella and tossing the beach blanket down onto the sand. Leon sets down the coolers near the side while his dad hands out the beach chairs to be setup. 

Once everything is in order, you sit back on your haunches with a sigh. Rooting around through your own bag, you grab a few things and stand up. 

“I’m heading over to the changing rooms,” you jerk your thumb behind you, to the wooden building, “shouldn’t take long.”

Your mom nods, “Okay, make sure to lock the door. Actually Leon, walk with her. You never know these days.”

You roll your eyes and walk backwards, “I’m totally fine mom, you can see the building from here.”

Leon’s dad nods at him, “Just maybe walk over that way with her and if it seems fine just mosey on back.”

Leon smirks at you, “You heard’em, little sis.”

He gets up from the blanket and walks over to you; spinning you around, he gives you a gentle push to walk forward.

“I don’t need the help,” you snip at him, elbowing his side so there’s more space between you.  

“Hey I’m just following orders. Besides,” he leans more into your space with a leer, “maybe I just wanted to see what kinda bathing suit you picked out.”

You roll your eyes, tamping down the heat that washes over you from his words. 

“Whatever, perv,” you climb the wooden steps and find an empty room. 

Hesitating, you look back at Leon before stepping inside, “Are you going to be out here?”

His arms are crossed as he leans against the banister, a deadpan expression in his face.

“Unless you want me in there with you, yeah I’ll be out here.”

Nodding, you completely step into the changing room and shut the door. It’s pretty nondescript but just something about it is giving you the ick. A low noise comes from behind the wall, probably just from someone changing in the next room. 

You tug your shirt off, already wearing a bathing top underneath— you just wanted to swap it for the more colorful one you brought along. A weird sound next door has you jumping in place. 

“Leon?”

“Yeah?” you can hear his muffled voice on the other side of the door. 

Another raspy noise comes from the other side of the wall giving you goosebumps. You swing your door open and gesture him inside. His mouth opens, probably about to make fun of you, when the look on your face cuts him short. 

He enters the changing room with you, keeping quiet as you hold your finger up to your lips. The strange noise happens again but louder, making you press into Leon’s side, hands gripping onto his thin tee shirt until your knuckles blanch. 

You both stand still, ears cocked and listening as that weird noise happens again. Leon reaches out and raps his hand hard on the wall. The noise stops and you both hear something scurry away from the wall. 

“Don’t change in here. We can go to the car,” Leon whispers to you, eyes serious, “definitely gonna report this to whoever’s on duty. Fucking creep.”

“Leon,” you whisper back, relief making tears prick your lash line, “thank you.”

“Hey, of course,” he murmurs softly, warm palms coming up to cup your jaw, “you’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, promise.”

You nod in his hold, pressing into his body even further. Your hands come up to wind in his hair and pull him down. He takes the hint and presses your lips together, kissing you softly. 

Leon pushes until your back is flat against the wall, never breaking his kiss. 

“You’re my girl,” he growls as he kisses a hot trail to your ear, tongue dipping inside, “no one gets to see you but me.”

“Leon,” you whimper, tugging on his hair as he nips at your neck before kissing down to your clavicle.

“Wish I could do more right now,” he murmurs into your skin, dragging his mouth down to the swell of your breasts in your bathing suit top, “just gonna get a little taste and we’ll head back, okay?”

Nodding, you have no idea what you’re agreeing to, when Leon noses the fabric covering one of your breasts over until he can suck your nipple easily into his hot mouth. 

“Just a taste, princess,” he whispers, moving over to the other hard bud and suckling.

He keeps you pressed to the wall as he lathes and sucks on your nipples until they’re hard and swollen. Your bathing suit bottoms are soaked with slick when he finally pulls back, eyes dark and heated. 

He slips his fingers under your top and pulls it upright, letting go with a snap. You cry out from the sting on your puffy nipples as your top now covers them. 

“C’mon, we need to head back before they come looking.”

“But..”

He grins at you, teeth gleaming, “What is it? Is my little sis feeling needy?”

You nod your head, “Please, big brother, I’m so wet.”

His fingers dip beneath the band of your shorts and bottoms to glide across your slippery clit. You cry out and bury your face in his chest. 

“Oh? She is,” he coos, “she needs me so bad huh, princess?”

He dips his head lower, whispering filth in your ear and making you rock against his fingers as they circle your pudgy clit. 

“Mmm I’d love to get on my knees and kiss your pretty pussy all over,” he licks the shell of your ear, “she loves getting kissed by big brother, always so fucking wet after I makeout with your cunt, isn’t that right?”

“Uh huh,” you whine, “feels good. Big brother makes my pussy so wet.”

“Fuck,” he grits out, fingers circling and pinching your clit over and over, “when we get home, I’m pushing you down and railing your little princess pussy, got that? I’m gonna use you all fucking night, so you’ll just have to keep that hole wet and ready for me. Can you do that for big brother, huh?“

“Yes, yes, please, want that,” you slur, thighs tensing as your orgasm winds tighter in your belly, “want big brother to fill me up.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” he laughs meanly, “you can only get off if I’m creaming in this tight cunt anyways.”

You whine and hump down into his fingers, “Love it, love getting your creampies.”

“God damn, princess,” his fingers slide across your clit roughly, “cum for me, get my fingers soaking wet.”

“Oh, Leon, I’m—“

You shudder in his arms, muffling your moans in his shirt as you shake apart on his fingers. Riding out the soft tremors, Leon finally slips his hand away and laps up the clear slick webbing across his fingers. 

“So fucking juicy,” he growls, free hand coming up to twist one of your nipples making you whine, “can’t wait til we get home.” 

He kisses you one last time before opening the door, letting you leave first. You both look around but luckily the whole area is deserted. He gives you a little push toward the stairs. 

“Go catch up with them, I’m gonna look around for whoever’s in charge and file that report.”

You watch Leon’s broad back as he walks around the corner and warmth flutters in your chest as you make your way back over to your mom and stepdad. 

“Finally, thought you two got lost,” your mom smiles, patting the blanket, “let me put sunblock on your back and shoulders and you can skedaddle.”

Your stepdad looks over at you and then glances around, “Where’d Leon get off to?”

“He said he’d be back, needed to do something.”

He nods and goes back to his book. Your mom finishes up with the sunblock and puts it back in her bag. 

“Make sure to drink plenty of water.”

“I know, mom,” you roll your eyes good naturedly, “I’m gonna go wade for a bit, see if I can find any cool shells.”

“Have fun,” she plops her big sun hat on her head and lays out on the blanket. 

You wander down the beach until your toes meet the small waves kissing the shore. Wading out into the warm water, you take in all the people. It’s really nice and peaceful even with all the racket; easy to let it fade into the background with the sound of the ocean echoing in your ears. 

“You wanna build a sand castle?”

Leon’s voice behind you makes you jump, quickly turning to face him.

“You serious?” you squint at him, still feeling out of depth with the whole fiasco earlier. 

“Yeah, let’s go build one,” his eyes are something else with the ocean reflecting off the already prismatic blue, “I know where the good sand is.”

You smile, reaching your hand out to see if he’ll take it. Surprisingly, he does. He leads you back away from the water but not too far in order to reach the ‘better sand’. 

"This is a lot of fun," you murmur, brushing shoulders with Leon as you try to dig out a moat.

"Yeah even if you’re complete shit at it,” he smirks, side eyeing you. 

"Hey," you push his shoulder, leaving a damp hand print on his shirt, "I’ve made like three sandcastles in my life, so lay off.”

"Doesn’t matter,” Leon shrugs then laughs, “I'm going to absolutely destroy this when we're done.”

You frown, "But why?"

“It’ll just wash out with the tide otherwise.”

You roll your eyes, “Such a dork. Think I might go for a swim since it’s gotten hotter just sitting here.”

"I'll go with you," he stands up and slips his shirt off making your mouth feel dry, "don’t want you to drown while my back is turned”

You mock salute him while trying not to stare at his chest, "Aye, aye, captain."

Leon ruffles your hair, "Last one in the water is a rotten egg."

He takes off running with you right behind him. 

“You’re such a cheater! You didn’t even countdown!”

"Snooze ya lose, princess,” he laughs, splashing into the ocean before whirling on you and grabbing you around you waist. 

“Hold your breath,” he murmurs hotly in your ear before he’s pulling you under with him. 

You’re not under long and Leon brings you both back up to the surface with you holding onto his biceps for dear life. 

“You’re such a jerk!” you yell, salt water running into your eyes making them sting, “I’m going to murder you!”

“Like to see you try,” he laughs loudly, faking like he’s going to dunk you before yanking you back to his chest. 

Your hands wrap around his neck while your legs wrap around his waist, squeaking as he fakes dipping you both under again. 

“You’re so mean,” you pout as he wraps his hands around your hips. 

“What else is new, princess,” he laughs, shaking the water from his hair. 

He eases out a little further, holding you in his arms as he treads water. 

“Can’t wait to get home,” he murmurs, kissing your neck. 

“Leon,” you whine, “anyone can see us.”

“Yeah? We’re too far off for them to know what’s happening. Just kiss me, little sis.”

You sigh as he places more soft kisses on your neck.

“You got me?”

Giving him a puzzled look, you nod, “Yeah…”

He slowly lets go of your hips and once you stay buoyant, he grins. 

“Since the waters up to our shoulders,” he smirks, hands coming up to grope and squeeze your breasts, “I’m gonna have some fun.”

“No, don’t,” you squirm, but don’t let go; letting him touch you like this is exciting. 

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re lying.”

He pulls the cups of your bathing top down exposing your breasts to his greedy hands. Pulling and tugging on your nipples has you rocking into him with a moan. 

“Leon,” you keen, head laying against his shoulder, “we’re gonna get caught.”

“Fuck,” he groans, pinching your nipples extra hard, “I’d love that, love to see someone know that you’re getting off on big brother playing with your sexy tits.”

You whimper and press your chest harder into his hands, “Gonna get in trouble.”

“No we won’t,” he chuckles, letting his fingers tease across the swell of your breasts and circle your hard buds, “‘long as you can sit pretty and take it, I’ll play with these cute fucking tits the rest of the day.”

That visual alone makes you rut against his chubbed cock with a moan. 

“Like that?” he laughs and pinches your nipples too hard making you squeal.  

“Think you can cum like this? Rubbing that hot pussy all on me while I suck on your nipples?” his voice rumbles in your ear

“Uh huh,” you shudder nails digging into his back.

“So hot,” he turns his back to the beach and shifts you up higher so can dip his head and latch onto a swollen bud.

You lose track of time, letting Leon suckle and bite at your nipples til they’re puffy and sore as you rub off on him, cumming twice before he even pulls away. 

“Probably need to go back in,” his voice is hoarse while his eyes are nearly dilated black, “been out here for awhile.”

Your brain is total slush at this point and you agree wholeheartedly. 

“Thirsty,” you mutter into his neck as he fixes your top.

“There’s water in the cooler,” he double checks to make sure you’re both presentable before wading back to the beach.

Once the water’s waist high you drop your legs and walk next to him, pushing your shaking muscles to keep you up. Once you get back to the blanket, your mom is reading and your step dad’s conked out with sunglasses on his face. 

You smile and flop down next to Leon who hands you a cold water. 

“Thank you,” you keep your voice low.

He shrugs and cracks open his water and drinks it in like two seconds. 

“You kids about ready to go?” 

Your mom’s voice sounds sleepy. 

“Seems like you two are,” you tease making her laugh and she taps your stepdad’s arm. 

He jostles awake with a snort making you giggle as Leon grins. 

“We’re ready to go honey,” your mom kisses his cheek. 

“Of course,” he stretches and yawns, “Leon you feel like loading up?”

“Can do,” he stands up and starts bundling things in his arms. 

You stand and start collecting the little things he doesn’t have the hands for; you both walk over to your mom’s SUV and Leon sets his stuff down and grabs your armload. 

“Go grab them and the blanket and we should be set.”

“You don’t want—“

“I got it,” he pushes you with a shit eating grin on his face, “trust me.”

You squint at him suspiciously but listen and go grab your parents and the folded up beach blanket. 

When you get back, you see Leon somehow finagled the beach stuff in such a way that you end up sitting in his lap on the drive home cause there just isn’t enough room otherwise. 

His dad pokes fun at him, “Must’ve gotten too much sun eh son?”

Leon rolls his eyes as he tugs you onto his lap in the third row seating, “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

Your mom laughs, “Well just make sure to be safe back there.”

“Will do,” you and Leon chime in at the same time making her laugh again. 

As soon as your stepdad leaves the parking lot, Leon’s hands are under your shirt plucking and tweaking your overstimulated nipples. You twist in his lap, placing your legs on either side of his seat, facing him to eagerly makeout. It’s not long before you’re grinding against his bulge. 

He fishes his dick out, grabbing your hand and guiding you to jerk him off. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, “stroke it. Fuck wish I was in your mouth.”

“Me too,” you kiss him sloppily as he pinches your nipples hard. 

“Y’wanna suck big brother off? Mmm but our parents would hear it wouldn’t they? That tight throat choking on me.”

“Mmhmm, I’d gag so much,” your hand eagerly strokes his dick, “you’re just too big for my mouth.” 

“But not for that pussy”, he growls, moving one hand from your nipples to slide under the leg of your shorts and swim bottoms to tease along your slit.   

You have to kiss him to stop the moan from giving you both away. 

Once he pulls back, Leon smirks at you, “Gotta keep quiet or they’ll find out what a slut you are.”

You pout, “Just feels so good.” 

“Let me stick it in,” he whispers in your ear, “just let me slip the tip in, ‘m so hard it hurts, princess.” 

“Just the tip,” you agree, slipping your shorts and bottoms off. 

He pulls the foreskin back on his fat tip to spank against your clit making you bite your lip hard. Pressing into your soaked cunt, the head stretches you open making you sigh.  

“Don’t you want the rest?” he coos sarcastically.  

“You said just the tip,” you mumble against his mouth. 

Leon listens for about half a minute before he grabs your hips and forces you to sink down. Force is a strong word as you easily go along with it. 

“So bad, taking me all the way into this tiny pussy,” he teases, mouth pressed against your ear, “making me stretch you out on my cock like you just can’t help it, princess.”

You rock down on him muffling your sounds by pressing your face into his chest. Your body is ramped up and ready for another orgasm easily, the coil of arousal tight in your belly already. 

“Mmm, sucking me in,” he hisses, hands digging into the meat of your hips hard, “been fucking edged all day, so this is gonna be messy, princess. Cute pussy’s bout to be filled to the brim.”

You lift your head and let your hazy eyes meet his making him curse under his breath. 

“You’re cockdrunk,” he laughs meanly, “gonna make me cum cause a’your needy fucking face.”

He grinds up harshly into your fluttering walls as his thumb swipes over your hot, swollen clit. 

“Want it, big brother,” you whimper, eyes teary as your orgasm begins to reach its peak, “please, want you to cum inside me.”

“You’re getting a nice load princess don’t worry,” his grip on your hip keeps you in place as he ruts into your pussy and circles your clit with his thumb, “squeeze me, squeeze down on my cock and I’ll give you want you want.”

You kiss him messily, tongue licking into his smirking mouth as your climax shakes your body to pieces. You feel as your pussy tightens down on his cock so hard it must hurt but Leon likes it if his groan’s anything to go by. Your fluttering walls milk his cock as he ruts up one last time and spills inside your clenching pussy. 

You pull away from his mouth, both of you panting against each others lips, just sharing the same space as you cum together.  His cock kicks and throbs as sticky jizz fills your cunt, hot rope after rope of cum shooting from his fat tip. 

Your pussy pulses and clamps rhythmically, aftershocks making your thighs shake as your hands grip onto the upholstery of the seat. 

“Hope you’re not too tired,” he grins, “told you I’m gonna rail you when we get home and I still mean it.”

You rock down on him with a mewl, “Can’t wait, big brother.”

[mossyivy]

၇͜ᩘ𑁍𝒲𝒾𝓁𝒹𝒻𝓁ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℬ𝒶𝓇𝓁ℯ𝓎⸙

Hey there pookies, you can fully blame Hozier for releasing his EP today. Wildflower and Barley is my favorite song off is and I wept while writing this so hopefully y'all will too :)

Song

Words: 1.6k

CW: Talks of Death

Damnation! Leon Kennedy x Reader

His jaw clenched, grip tight on the steering wheel as the engine sputtered to a halt. His old Jeep usually never failed him, even if he'd been ignoring the 'check engine light' for the past week on the road. He knew that ol' reliable would pull through before his last stop.

That's what denial told him at least...

But not everything can be relied on, he knew that. Why would he bother holding out?

In silence, he pops the hood, being met with steam. Of course... Nothing he could patch up and move on with.

A disgusted sigh slips from frowning lips as he slams the hood back down, anger settling in as he goes to grab his bag from the passenger seat. Reaching for his keys, they slip from the ignition and fumble under the seat.

"God damnit..." He mumbles, reaching, reaching far under the seat. His hand stops feeling something hard and smooth. He pulls at it, looking down at the iPod in his hand.

Your iPod.

He presses down on the power, surprised to see the screen light up as the company logo pops up and the lock shows. Swiping through it, he taps the video app. Seeing the massive collection of videos, he scrolls to the bottom. Hitting the last one, opening it to the sound of your laughter.

"You look ridiculous!" Your voice chirps as he sees himself standing in your old apartment bathroom as he combs his hair with his fingers in the mirror. Pushing through the botched blotchy dye job, he gave himself to be a brunet for an assignment in Pittsburgh.

"Stop laughing and help me fix it!" His head jolts around, softly glaring at you as the camera shakes from your held back laughter.

"Are you recording this? Get over here." The camera jostles around as you shake from Leon pulling you over to him. The camera moves to yours and his reflection in the mirror. His arms around you, head sitting on your shoulder, and that same shit eating grin on your face you'd always give when he was annoyed with you.

"It's so... Patchy. Kinda like old dog fur." You giggle as his head lifts to turn towards you.

"I'll show you dog." Leaning in, he bites your shoulder, an excited yelp leaving your lips as the video cuts off.

He smiled, briefly. Two years ago.

Simpler times...

Slipping the iPod in his pocket, he grabs his keys and starts walking. No idea where, but the road had to lead somewhere eventually.

So he walked down the road, the spring morning heat turning to afternoon as the sun blared down on him. He had to have been at least a few miles from his Jeep by now. Trees are getting thinner as open country fields come into view.

You'd always wanted to go to the countryside, even just for a weekend.

Leon stops for a moment, looking out at the open fields, fields of wildflowers and what he thinks is barley.

You were the smart one in your relationship. Always so knowledgeable about the weirdest things.

So different from him. So delicate and beautiful compared to his rough edges and awkward sense of humor that would always make you crack up.

Would...

He swallows the lump forming in his throat, pulling at the chain carrying old dog tags and a pill pendent. The shade looks inviting in the heat.

So he wanders over, trying to avoid stepping on flowers as he walks. Knowing he'll probably be covered in pollen by the time he's out of here.

Finally, making it to the thin patch of shade, he sits against the tree, taking in the floral scenery around him. Thinking about how beautiful it was.

Fishing in his pocket, he grabs your iPod, opening it and goes back to the videos. Flipping through the thumbnails, when he spots himself, two pens hanging from his mouth like long fangs.

He clicks the video, seeing himself propped against the small counter and sink of a doctor's office. A woman in bright pink scrubs walking past while you chuckle.

He remembers this day, you had to get blood drawn. He knew how much you hated needles, and while trying to distract you from the incoming pinch, shoved the pens in his mouth as a joke.

That was a year ago...

What he'd give to go back to that day. To make you laugh all over again. To drop the pens from his mouth by accident and get dirty looks from the nurse and make you laugh harder. Or even just to see the smile on your face when he got embarrassed and acted like nothing happened to save face. To just bargain with the universe to give you back, even just for a second.

Leon continues flipping through the videos, seeing memory after memory. He stops, noticing the gap between videos.

Six months and two months ago...

His hands start to shake as he clicks on the video from six months ago. You pop up on the screen.

Tubes in your nose in a close-up shot. Eyes baggy and tired against your abnormally dull skin. A small smile on your face as the camera moves to your right, his sleeping face appearing curled up on your shoulder as he cuddles up to you in the hospital bed.

"Big baby can't go five minutes without being next to me since he got home from Russia." You lean in giving him a soft kiss on the forehead as his nose wrinkles. Loud snores erupting from him as you wrap your arm around him tighter.

"Sleeps like a bear... A giant teddy bear." You hold the camera back, seeing him intertwined with you under the plush throw blanket he brought to the hospital for you.

"But, he's my bear. And I wouldn't want it any other way."

He feels the burn of tears at the back of his eyes. His nose stinging.

Of all the things life could take from him, why you? The one light he had that could turn the pitch black midnight skies of Winter into the midday sunshine of Summer.

The thick jacket of grief hangs over his shoulders again that he's tried shoving off since you died.

He's kept going for two months straight, not stopping or slowing down to let time catch up with him.

This has been the first time since the week off he took after your funeral he's been anywhere but work or sleeping on the couch, refusing to sleep in bed. Not without you. Falling into an even deeper depression than he already was in.

The wind picks up, ripping loose flowers from the ground, landing at the side of his thigh. Picking it up, he runs his thumb over the soft pink petals. Tiny traces of brown dusted the edges.

Rot... Disgusting rot even infects untouched places like this.

He lets the flower go as it drifts off in the wind. Looking back down, he took in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment to hold back his tears. Clicking the last video.

Two months ago...

You look so tired... Run down by countless trips to the doctor. Medication, minor procedures and time.

You sit back in your hospital bed with a sight. The soft night light in the room only illuminates you as you look back at the camera. Your voice is soft as you speak.

"It's a little past 2... I can't sleep. My surgery's in," you look off-screen, squinting, head swiveling back, "six-ish hours... I'm nervous."

Biting your lip you shrug. Letting out a rough huff of air.

"I've come to terms with it... The doctor said there's only a 20% success rate..." You go quiet, looking away from the camera.

"My parents have no idea how technology works... So when you see this Leon... Tell them I love them... And I love you. More than anyone I've ever loved before. Thank you for being the love of my life, even if it was only for a short time. Five years isn't long enough... But they were the happiest five years of my life."

You smile, lean into the camera, put your hand to your lips, and blow him a kiss.

"Take care of yourself for me, baby."

Leon sniffs as he stares down at the screen. Feeling the overwhelming ache in his chest. Tears finally spill as his throat closes, making him gag for air.

He coughs, feeling sick, not being able to stop the tears from flowing. This, this was the way his body finally made him grieve.

Whether he wanted to or not.

After a while, he leans back against the tree again, clutching his chain after he slips it off. Looking down at the pill attached next to his dog tags.

You... Little old you, always going with him wherever you could or wherever he was willing.

Even now, he carries part of your ashes with him. Just so he could take you to that beautiful countryside, get away, he promised you after surgery.

He had every intention of getting you somewhere beautiful to rest. Somewhere he knew you'd love.

Among nature, the beautiful shades of colors you adored so much, almost as much as he loved you.

He stands up and walks out of the shade as the wind starts picking up again. Turning his back to the wind as flowers and weeds flew past him.

"I love you baby. Always have, always will." He kisses the pill pendent one last time, unscrewing it, and tosses the bit of your ashes into the wind.

Accepting that he has to let you go, even if it kills him.

Letting you fly free in the sky, among the weeds.

Among the wildflower and barley.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-five | when I say ‘hell’, you say ‘nah’

Being tied up and gagged sitting beside a barbecue spitting hot oil at you, was not on the agenda.

And yet you sighed, tied up to a barbecue. Across the porch, Nico sat the same way, bound to the railing. To your left, Grover mirrored him, tied up in the sun. He was sweating, and looked incredibly tired. You wished you could do something about the situation you got caught in, but the truth was, you couldn’t do a thing. Percy got you here, and only Percy could get you out.

“Lovely day!” Geryon flipped sausages. A bit of piping-hot oil landed on your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pay you any notice. “Lovely day…Eurytion, get those banners higher!”

Streamers and party balloons were tied up and taped to the windows by Eurytion, who you deducted to be a spineless man. He’d tied you all up at Geryon’s instructions and relaxed on the bench under the window, in the shade.

You tried desperately to think of a way you could contact anyone. Chiron, perhaps, who could advise you on what to do now that Percy had gotten you tied up and held hostage. Maybe even Sally Jackson, since she always knew what you could do. Her advice hadn’t failed you yet. But there were no water sources or reflective surfaces to make a rainbow, and you could reach your bag chucked out of the way down on the grass, anyway. Eurytion had been kind enough to put your dagger in your bag, rather than throwing it away. That was something.

Eurytion and Geryon ate barbecue food, put more on the grill, and ate that, too, until the sun had set relatively low. The whole time, you tried not to hyperventilate at the thought of Percy being eaten by monster horses. You tried not to think of the high possibility you’d be sold off like a piece in a thrift store. You tried not to, but your mind ran wild. Grover communicated with his eyes, probably as tired as you were after your struggle to get out of the ties. You hadn’t any idea what he was communicating, though—the sun beamed in your eyes.

You were beginning to think he wasn’t coming back at all, a hopeless sort of sadness setting in, when a desperate, boys voice rang out above the barbecue and Geryon’s terrible singing.

“Let them go!” Percy’s voice raged. He ran up the porch steps and rounded. He locked eyes with you, and then Grover and Nico. “I cleaned the stables. So let them go.” Relief lifted the weight off your shoulders, that Percy was still breathing.

Geryon lifted off his cooking apron and dumped it over the porch rail. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it, sonny?”

Breathing deeply, Percy explained. “The water from the river. I…controlled it. Cleared the stables out completely.”

Geryon nodded appreciatively. “Well, then, Mr. Genius, smart move. You could have at least poisoned the naiad that resides in there, but hey-ho.” The staticky radio on the bench next to Eurytion played an Elvis Presley song, cutting out here and there. Polk Salad Annie felt a little bit too upbeat for the unpredictable crowd.

“Let my friends go,” Percy seethed, not appreciating the insinuation that he hadn’t done enough. “We had a deal.”

Geryon chuckled. “See, the problem is, and I’ve been thinking about this very deeply; if I let your friends go, I won’t get paid. They’re staying.”

Your eyes widened so much you might have looked comical. Percy turned gray. “You. Promised.”

“Ah, but you didn’t have me swear on the River Styx, did you? Therefore, it was not binding. Always remember, Percy, when you’re conducting any business, you should always swear on the River Styx. A binding oath is worth everything, alrighty?”

A beat of silence hit as Percy drew his sword. Riptide reflected the gold of the sun, strong at your friend’s side. Orthus, standing at Grover’s head, growled deeply.

Geryon waved Percy off like he was a knat. “Eurytion, he’s annoying me. Kill him.”

Grover and yourself protested as much as you could with your mouth’s somewhat bound too. Geryon looked away and slung a packet of bacon on the grill. At the same time, Percy inched closer to you, angling Riptide to the ties on your ankles. Orthus pounced and snapped at him, forcing Percy to move away. Saliva dripped from the dog’s mouths in a disgusting puddle near your feet. You couldn’t help feeling a little angry at him. For the first time, Percy had truly put your life at risk, and his way out of it failed to be effective.

“Kill him yourself,” said Eurytion, crossing his arms loosely.

Raising his dark brows, Geryon uttered a calm, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You keep sending me to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no proper reason, and I’m tired of dying for you. You want the kid dead; kill him yourself.”

Tensely, the scene reminded you of a movie, like a cowboy facing down his enemy. You wanted to laugh, but honestly you felt a little too heat-exhausted and scared.

Geryon threw down the metal tongs. “How dare you defy me? I should be rid of you this instant!”

“And who’d look after your cattle then? Orthus, heel.” The dog left you, settling at Eurytion’s side.

“Whatever! I’ll deal with you later, after the boy’s gone.”

Then the scene

went

wild.

Geryon picked up two carving knives and threw them with such fury in Percy’s direction that they went haywire; he raised Riptide and deflected one away, over the rail, the other landed between Eurytion’s feet. Orthus barked aggressively, and Elvis Presley went crazy on the radio. Though obviously tired, and looking sweaty and pale (and in need of a shower after the stench of the stables), Percy went on the offence, raising Riptide and aiming right for Geryon’s head. He ducked and moved aside, causing the sword to go right through his middle chest. You looked away, praying to your mother you didn’t gag, because the way you were feeling in the sun, it would not be good. Geryon yelled in pain and thudded to the deck. You anticipated the familiar sound of crumbling to ashes and dust the way monsters usually do, but it didn’t happen.

“Nice try,” he growled. “Thing is, I obviously have three hearts. It’s the perfect backup!” You looked back just in time to witness him kick over the barbecue that had been boiling all day long. The metal grates fell away, as smoking coals spilled out. Being so close to it, one caught your cheek as it dropped, others burning around your feet. You screamed, and couldn’t stop it. Grover yanked uselessly at his bindings, while Orthus approached him in a low crawl. Elvis didn’t give a shit that you found yourself in a stressful situation. Eurytion stepped back down the porch steps. Nico looked visibly terrified. After all, he was only a kid.

Percy struck Geryon in the chest again, but he only laughed in his face. The dark-haired boy ran the sword through his stomach but it did absolutely nothing. Percy persevered, usually, so watching him take off inside the house was a kick to the stomach. He couldn’t leave you here, surely? Your cheek itched painfully from the burn of the coal and the oil and the sun, you were tired and hot and stressed. Sooner rather than later, you might explode.

Geryon launched the large barbecue fork through the open doorway, and it landed in something with a terrible clunk. “Your head’s gonna go there, Jackson, next to the bear!”

In the doorway, Percy appeared carrying a large bow and notched an arrow, shocking since he couldn’t so much as hit a target a metre away at camp. Geryon berated him verbally with cruel remarks and laughter, but Percy was not to be deterred. The monster didn’t need weapons to charge toward Percy, who dove sideways. Before he could react, Percy let the arrow fly. It shot straight through Geryon’s arm in a bloody mess, and right through his bodies to the other side, landing in the wall inside the house. The ranch grew still and quiet, Geryon turning. “You can’t shoot,” he struggled to talk. “They told me you can’t.” In a sickly shade of violent green, he fell to his knees heavily and promptly turned to ashes, grains as small as sand. Silently, all that remained was a pair of jeans, a huge shirt and boots.

Percy turned, dropping the bow to the deck, clattering. In his pocket Riptide had returned. He cut your mouth free first, careful of the stinging cheek, knowing somehow that freedom of speech was what you wanted now.

You coughed to clear your throat, and brilliant-gray met sea-green. “Glad you’re still breathing, Percy Jackson.”

He swallowed, cutting through the binding at your ankles. “Glad you’re still here, B.”

You collected your backpack and dug straight for a bottle of water, sipping slowly as Grover and Nico were released. Casting the bottle away into your bag, you stood to build up the barbecue again, and offered the last packs of burgers to the gods as a thanks for helping Percy actually get a good shot…and not somehow shooting you, instead (which he had nearly done, once before).

Nico said Eurytion should be tied up, and Grover agreed on the grounds that his dog had tried to kill you all. Murder wasn’t in your books, and you didn’t want to become a subject of interest, but the old man had done nothing while you cooked under the sun and was going to allow you to be handed over to Luke. So…something had to be done.

“Why don’t we just…” you thought, “I don’t know, actually. Could just tie him and make a run for it before he breaks free?”

“Or we could contact Chiron?” Suggested Grover. “Maybe he could do something about this?”

You waved him off. “Chiron would be too nice.”

Percy raised his brows. “And just tying some up is isn’t being too nice?”

“Alright! I’m just saying, murder is a bit far. He isn’t completely guilty. He didn’t really do anything to us.”

“Didn’t do anything for us, either,” retorted your friend. Percy flicked his hair from his face, sweaty and sun-kissed.

Nico gasped with an idea. “We could kill him, and then I’ll go and judge him in the Underworld.”

You clicked your fingers, pointing at Nico. “Ha ha, that’s not what we’re gonna do.”

“Look,” breathed Percy, pocketing Riptide-now-pen. He held out a hand to Eurytion as he spoke. “How long will Geryon take to reform and come back?”

“Couple hundred years,” the farmhand shrugged. “He ain’t one of those quick reformers.”

“Oh, thank you Zeus,” you mumbled. The sky rumbled, perfectly clear.

“You said you died for him in the past, didn’t you? How’d that happen?”

Eurytion explained his immortality, chosen way back when in his half-blood era. Percy stood beside you leaning on the fencing, raising his hand to shield his bright eyes from the blinding sun. In turn, his shadow blocked you, dimming the feel of burning on your face.

“You can change things ‘round here,” offered Percy, “be nice to the animals, not selling them. If we leave you here, you’ve got to stop trading with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about it hard, and long. He sat silent, just pondering, until eventually he nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Hey, if you get the animals on your side, maybe when Geryon comes back, he’ll be working for you. Tables—turned.”

Eurytion hummed, chuckling low in his throat. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he grinned. He waved off in the distance. “Now go. I haven’t had peace and quiet in years. And the girl looks like she needs a hospital. Seriously, you look sick.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re not gonna stop us?” Grover pushed away from his seat. You leaned your elbow on his shoulder.

“Hell no.”

Despite his calm, laidback demeanour, you couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Raising your bottle to your warm cheeks, cooling them a little, you asked the question stuck on your mind. “He said somebody paid for our safe passage. The only person I can think of down here who could have done so would be Hera. She met us in the maze. She gave us some not-so-helpful advice. You seen her anywhere?”

Eurytion shrugged. “I don’t know what he was talking about. And I ain’t seen any gods round here, lady.”

“What about Luke, and his army? Did you actually tell them we’re here?”

He scoffed with humour. “Did I hell. We were waiting until after the barbecue. So to answer your indirect question, missus, they don’t know about Mr. Nico.”

The boy himself glared right at you with such passion it almost physically burned. Two options were here and two only.

“You can come with us and get out of here,” you offered. “Or you can stay on the ranch for a while. Either way you’d be quite safe.”

Nico’s face warped to one of fury. His skinny fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Safe? What do you know about being safe? You got my sister killed!”

You practically saw red. Shoving your bag into Percy’s fumbling arms, you leaned down to face Nico, who ground his teeth loudly. “Alright, you little shit—let’s get one thing straight before we go anywhere: I did not get your sister killed. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and ultimately I’ve decided that Bianca had her own brain, and her own free will. I didn’t make her do anything, and I didn’t push her. It was a tragic accident, okay?”

“Nico,” Percy stood beside you, laying a warm hand on your shoulder and urging you back from the kid who didn’t move. “She’s right. Please believe her. Believe us. None of this was anybody’s fault. Staying here would be fine, you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to. But if Kronos finds out about you, he’ll take you, and he’ll do anything to get you on his side. It won’t be good, Nico, trust me.”

Nico turned his face away. “I’m not on anyone’s side. And I’m not scared of any of this.”

“You really should be. Bianca wouldn’t want any of this.”

He turned back. Nico’s eyes swam with tears, and you felt a little bad for popping off. “If you knew my sister, you know she’d want to come back! If you cared about her, you’d help me to bring her back.”

“A soul for a soul, right?”

“Yes!”

Percy looked troubled. “But if you didn’t want B, and you didn’t want me, then who?”

“I’m not explaining anything to either of you!” He exclaimed. When a tiny tear tread down his cheek, Nico raised his hand to wipe it away aggressively. “I’m going to bring her back. She’s my sister. I need to…I need her.” He rubbed his eyes viciously.

You deflated. Nico tried to look brave, and act older than he was, but his eyes were rimmed with red as he rubbed at them, and he choked on his tears. All of a sudden you wanted nothing more than to sit him down and talk to him, apologise for shouting when he was so upset. You wanted to kick yourself for acting impulsively, and shouting at a child as they cried. At fifteen years old, you should have known better. You reminded yourself terribly then of your father.

“Why don’t we ask Bianca what she wants?”

Nico’s face stilled. “I’ve tried,” he said miserably. “She won’t answer.”

“Try again,” shrugged Percy. A cold breeze shocked you, suddenly. In the distance, storm clouds were rolling in out of a perfectly sunny day…. “I have a feeling she’ll answer with me here.” He sounded very confident in that, and for what reason?

“Why would she?” Asked Nico.

“Because she’s been sending me messages,” Percy shifted on his feet at the sudden onslaught of confused looks. “I’m sure she has. She’s been warning me of what you’re doing. She wanted me to protect you.”

Nico wiped his eyes furiously. “That’s impossible.”

“Why is it?” Percy offered. “Besides, didn’t you say you’re not afraid? Let’s try it. We’ll need a lot of food, and a pit. You got anything like a grave around here?”

—

The grave happened to be dug especially by yourself and Grover. You never were one for gardening, and you find yourself slacking towards the end of the grave-digging.

“Come on,” urged Grover, sweaty and tired. “Just—we can do this. We’ve got this. Positive thinking. Deep breath in…”

You want to tell Grover that positive thinking won’t influence positive actions, because your limbs feel like lead. But together you finish the grave, and your friends pull you out of it. You waited until dark, the five of you and the dog, to call on the dead. With crates of root beer at the ready, Nico paced back and forth, anxious. You sat at the edge of the grave and dangled your legs in, exhausted beyond belief. Every now and then you had to kick away a bug. Grover sat on his heels, sleeping on the crates of root beer.

“Minos should be here by now!” Came Nico’s tiny voice, his dark eyes full of worry. The moon was high and full and bright. Percy’s infinite gray streak shone in the light, a patch among dark, dark hair. “It’s dark enough. It’s late enough…”

“Maybe he got lost,” suggested Percy. Nico glared furiously.

Percy crouched beside you and clapped you on the shoulder, digging his fingers in as a means to try and show you he was there. Maybe he knew you well enough by now to know you were getting irritated and agitated, waiting and tired and forcing your eyes to stay open.

Little Nico grew fed up himself, and wrenched a bottle of root beer from the crate, pouring it into the pit. Grover jerked away, and began helping. With food in a pile from the forgotten barbecue, Nico’s hands dashed out hungrily, and threw them into the pit too, chanting in Ancient Greek. To anyone else, the sudden chill of the night air and the aura that settled with Nico’s chanting might have been terrifying, or uncomfortable. You found the grim ordeal that was summoning the dead to be a rather interesting situation. Something satisfying in raising what once was. A reminder that things never truly died.

It didn’t take long for someone to come forward. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right someone.

A dark shade of blue, a thin and whispery figure that mirrored who it was once, kneeled at the edge of the grave and reached in. The image somewhat shimmered, and when you looked hard enough, features showed through; deep-set eyes, hardened and somewhat angry; facial features showing crows feet around the eyes, dark brows…

“Minos!” Yelled Nico, suddenly on guard. He brought forth his sword, aimed at the ghost. “What are you doing?!”

“My apologies,” he said, though there wasn’t a hint of sorry in there. Slowly, the ghost’s image grew a bit more real, more colorful. “The sacrifice seemed too good to leave be. Almost in solid form—it’s nice to see myself again.”

“You are disrupting the Ritual! Leave, now!”

Minos paid him no mind. You’d long since jumped away from the edge of the grave, and joined Percy’s side, but something about the ghost ignited in you a want to take Nico’s sword and run the loser through with it. He turned to the two of you, running his eyes in a way that had you almost wretching.

“Percy Jackson!” He hummed. “My, my. The sons of Poseidon never seem to get any better.”

A rude and untrue comment, because you’d seen old images of Greek heroes, and Percy was the best by a million. Not that you’d say that out loud, or anything.

Percy had a lot more self-control than you did in the moment, because he simply took a deep breath, and said, “We’re looking for Bianca. Get lost.”

“Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?” Minos taunted, tilting his head. Nico had begun chanting again, kneeling at the edge of the pit with Grover kneeling dutifully at his side, taking care. “He cares nothing for you, half-bloods! You certainly cannot trust him. He’s cursed by the gods, and guilty of murder. You want somebody like that on your side?”

“Who did he kill?” Asked Percy.

“Don’t change the subject!” Minos spat, a confirmation that he was talking bull, really. “Stop hindering Nico. Don’t persuade him to abandon his goals!”

“We’re helping Nico,” you touched your dagger tucked away in the pocket of your pants. “He’s a child. Leave him alone.”

The ghost settled by Nico’s ear, leaning down to mutter. Nico visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t listen to them, Nico. Let me protect you, not them. I’ll turn them to madness as I did the others. Just say the word.”

If Minos wasn’t already dead, you swore, you’d have killed him there and then.

“Was it you?” Barked Percy. “Did you hurt Chris Rodriguez?”

Minos rolled his eyes lazily, turning around to face Percy. He got in real close to his face; Percy’s arm shot out in front of you and urged you backwards, away from the vile ghost. “The maze is my property,” he hummed. Percy refused to back away. “Those who intrude on it deserve madness.”

Nico turned furious, whether at Minos’s lecturing, or his interrupting. Either way, he turned to the ghost and ran him through with his sword. “Go away, Minos! Leave us!” His voice turned sad and desperate, like he was tired of this too. “Bianca! Come on!”

It was heart-wrenching, watching Nico beg for his dead sister. It wasn’t fair.

But she’d heard him. Bianca came forth, a silvery wisp of light from the dark trees in the distance, growing closer. You didn’t feel wary of her, and Percy dropped his sword, Nico backed away to give her space, and Grover shuffled away from the edge as Bianca knelt to accept the offering in the pit. When she got to her feet, she was a solid hue of silvery-blue form, the image of herself in life. It was like the chatter grew quiet, the chaos turned silent, when Bianca smiled sadly at her brother. Nico had grown still, and pale.

He wasn’t the first one she spoke to, though. “Hello, Percy,” said Bianca, her voice like a lullaby. Her body flickered like the stars would, before it stilled.

“Bianca…” One look at Percy had you reaching for his hand, clasping it between both of yours. He was choked up. You didn’t blame him one bit—you hadn’t known Bianca well at all, and she’d killed herself in the process of saving you all, but even seeing her again like this had your throat burning. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Percy. I made my choice.” Somehow, she seemed older, calmer, and a whole lot more at peace, as if this didn’t phase her and her death was simply an article she’d read in a paper and let pass over her, at the back of her mind. “I don’t regret it, either.” Her eyes, a mirror of Nico’s own, fell on you. What did you look like to her, you wondered later? Holding back your own teary eyes the way Percy did.

She turned to face her brother quickly, and his name fell from her lips. She turned sad.

“Oh, Nico.” She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

“Why didn’t you answer me any sooner!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you for months!”

“I was hoping you’d give up, Nico. Please give up.”

Heartbroken, Nico reached for her, but his hand passed right through. “Give up?…I’d never!”

“I need you to do this, Nico. Trust Percy. Trust her.”

“No! She let you die! They’re not our friends!”

Bianca’s ghostly hand reached out to touch Nico’s cheek, but she fizzled out too quickly, and never made contact with him. “You must listen to me now, because this is important. Holding grudges is bad for children of Hades. It’s our fatal flaw, and you must forgive.”

“I can’t. I’ll never.”

Bianca struggled, exhaled. Her eyes betrayed every feeling in her body—anguish, anger, sadness. “Percy has been worried for you, Nico. I let him see what you were up to so that he could help you. You understand, don’t you?”

“It was you, then,” shuddered Percy. “You were sending me those messages.”

Bianca nodded softly. “I was.”

Nico demanded her attention. “No, listen!” He screamed and went to grab at her again. “Don’t help him! Help me! This isn’t fair!”

Bianca kneeled to be face-to-face with Nico. “You’re so close to the truth now, Nico. Believe me. It isn’t them you’re angry at; it’s me. And it’s okay to be angry, do you understand? You’re allowed to be upset—”

“No!” He heaved a great cry.

“You’re mad because I left you, to join the Hunters. And you’re so angry because I died and left you here. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.” Bianca’s voice turned thick with emotion. “But you must try to accept this, now. I cannot come back. And you must stay with them.” She nodded at you and Percy.

“I just want you back,” Nico sobbed. Bianca, on her knees, looked as if in a great deal of pain. She swallowed hard, and her voice was shaky.

“You can’t have that, Nico. This is how it has to be. And one day, we’ll be reunited again properly. Trust me. Believe in that. I’m never too far away, even when you can’t reach me. But for now, you have to let me go. Can you do that for me, Nico? You’re so strong…you’re so brave.” She turned suddenly to look over her shoulder at something the rest of you couldn’t see. “I must go now. Your powers are attracting unwanted attention. I have to go back.”

“Wait!” A terrible, pained cry ripped from Nico’s throat. “Please don’t go!” He heaved. “Please stay! Don’t leave me here!”

“I love you, Nico.”

You understand Bianca then, and her decision. It was why you dropped Percy’s warm hand and took up Nico’s cold, limp one. He heaved and cried, and didn’t protest when you lay your free hand on the side of his head, and gently pulled him to you. You raised your gaze from Nico’s teary, reddened eyes, squeezed tightly shut, to Bianca’s mirrored gaze. A single, shiny tear trailed down her translucent face, and you tried to convey one last message: Nico would not be alone.

She nodded slowly, and sniffled once. Getting to her feet, Bianca managed a sad smile, and lowered her eyes to Nico once more. He was the last thing she saw, as she trailed out of the mortal world for the final time. Bianca di Angelo simply faded away.

Just because she’d told him to trust you, didn’t mean he trusted you right away. That night, Nico sat out on the porch alone, talking to somebody that wasn’t there, crying to himself. You’d tried to talk to him, but had no luck. Nico demanded to be left alone, so you left him. When you returned two hours later, he’d fallen asleep on the bench, a hand tucked under his cheek. Percy dug out a blanket from one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you’d covered Nico over as the night air grew chilly. Your heart felt heavy, but the day’s trials didn’t prevent you from falling asleep quickly. The boys took the sofas downstairs, and you picked a spot at the bay window with a comforter and pillows. Sleep took you the second you laid down your head.

Your mother decided it was a good time to pop up and say hello, apparently.

You recognised the setting immediately as New York’s Public Library. Beyond the windows lining either two walls, the sky was black as could be, no stars or anything showing through. The lights and the slightly dusty chandeliers on the ceiling of the grand roof were golden, more yellow than usual, and the tables stretching the length of the hall were empty as could be, the dark stretch of tile down the middle aisle echoing your footsteps the further you walked.

At the end of the wall, standing beneath the clock small in the grand wall, was a tall lady, casual as could be in jeans and a pretty sweatshirt. This didn’t defer her from wearing a sword in a scabbard at her hip. Long, light hair was tied back in a practical bun, tight and secure. In her hands was a heavy book, and her brilliant gray eyes scanned it furiously. She didn’t look up from it until you’d paused at her side, peering up at the taller woman, admiring her. Strange, how the gods technically had no DNA, and yet you were her mirror image. The same jawline, the same nose, definitely the same eyes. She was pretty, really pretty, and she carried herself with confidence.

It would have been nice to be acknowledged, however similar you were.

“Mom?” You voiced into the quiet library air.

“Chapter eighteen of The Iliad—what do you know of it?”

You raise your eyebrows, curiously. “I don’t know off the top of my head, exactly. There’s a fight over Patroclus’s body, isn’t there? Real dramatic, like. They’re worried about going to fight the Trojans. Achilles worries about the outcome of Patroclus going out to join the fight.”

“Do you notice any similarities between this and our life?” She quips. Your mom huffed at something she read, and snapped the book shut. The cover was battered leather, the title almost rubbed away. It was old, but no dust rose from it.

You shrug, and feel somewhat nervous. “We’re history repeating itself?” You offer. “Is this to do with Bianca, last night? The fight over what happened to her, fighting over what she wanted for her end?”

Mom hummed, and threw the book over her shoulder. You had a sudden desire to catch it, but as you went to grab it, as it hit your hands, heavy as hell, it disappeared, as though she’d never thrown a thing. Your mother turned to watch you, bringing your brows together, spinning in a circle to look for this damn book like a stupid dog chasing its tail.

“The fight for life is always happening,” said mom, factually. “What happened to Bianca di Angelo was a negligible accident. She could have been saved.”

Frozen, you shakily exhaled. Gray met the mirror image.

“She could have been saved, but it was her destiny. You understand, don’t you, daughter? That what is meant to be is meant to be. So even though you could have saved her life one way or another, she was supposed to die.”

You scoff, and surprise yourself at the burning in your eyes. “People aren’t supposed to just die, mom. When their time comes, when they’re old, then sure. Not like this.”

“Was it not Bianca’s time? Who decides when it is right to die?”

“What’s the point of this?” You snap. “Did you bring me here just to take a dig at me?”

“Everybody has their time. I’m here to tell you to your friend that he should stop meddling in things. Leave things well alone.”

“Great advice. After we’ve sorted things. Bit late to the party.”

“Not entirely.” She tilted her head. “Before I go, just one thing—tell Percy Jackson to let the dead rest, when the time comes.”

“That’s ominous.”

“That’s life,” mom hummed. “I’ll let you go, now. The boy is trying to wake you up.”

When you come to, Percy is knelt beside you. Sunrise is in your eyes, and Nico is shouting downstairs. You gather your things, and prepare to make your way back into the maze.

—

TAGLIST

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[steddieas-shegoes]

you're not santa

i may or may not be having a small (this is a lie) crisis over liam believing in santa this year? i am 90% certain he doesn't actually believe in santa and just said he does because he thinks the cool gifts come from santa. meanwhile i am just trying to get the vibes on if i need two wrapping papers this year or not for the same amount of gifts. so anyways working through the feelings with putting the idiots in the situation as always, enjoy.

rated t | cw: the mildest innuendo | tags: fluff, modern au, married steddie, steddie dads, the magic of christmas is all of it not just santa etc

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

"You better be quieter this year," Steve slapped Eddie's still bare ass as he hurried to throw on his Christmas pajamas. "Almost woke Maddy up last year. You're lucky I was standing by the door."

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, maybe if you hadn't turned the-"

"Just go!" Steve laughed, throwing a pillow at him with deadly accuracy.

Eddie threw it back at him with a smirk. "When I get back, I'm giving you your present."

"You already did, Eds."

"No, that was just one of them," Eddie rushed to say before leaving their bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him.

Both bedroom doors were closed across the hall, so he quickly made his way down the stairs to the garage, where all the gifts were hiding since Robin dropped them off earlier that day.

But when Eddie opened the garage door and flipped the light switch, a voice startled him into nearly turning and running.

"I knew it!"

Sammy.

Their oldest son had been acting very suspicious of Santa related discussions for months now, and Steve had warned him that he was getting to an age where a lot of his friends probably didn't believe in Santa anymore.

"Sammy, why aren't you in your bed?" Eddie put his hands on his hips, identical to the way Steve stood when he was about to have a very serious conversation with one of their three kids.

"Because I saw Auntie Rob bring in a big bag earlier and you and Dad were trying to keep us distracted. So I looked out here while you were cleaning up dinner and saw all these presents." Sammy was standing with his hands on his hips, a mirror image to Steve in every way down to the same swoop of hair and freckles across his cheeks. "And all of these say from Santa, but Santa wouldn't have even come here yet because he was in London one hour ago and London is at least four hours from here!"

Eddie bit back a laugh at how Sammy tried to explain his way through the Santa gifts being here.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Eddie asked, dropping his arms and sitting down on the ground, gesturing for Sammy to join him.

"I already know Santa isn't real," Sammy said as he sat, sounding absolutely miserable.

"What do you mean Santa isn't real?" Eddie asked, pretending to be shocked at the revelation.

"Really, pops? You're gonna act like Santa is real?" Sammy got the sass from Steve, too. It was both annoying and adorable. "I'm seeing the evidence that he isn't with my own eyes."

"Look, Sammy, can I call you Sammy?" Eddie smiled when Sammy let out a laugh. "Santa as you know him isn't real, you're right. But there is a Santa. He's just so busy and can't do it all in one night, so he has presents delivered early for some people, like you and your brother and sister. But he can't ruin the magic, so he left them at Auntie Rob's house for safekeeping."

It sounded airtight. Any kid who wanted to believe in Santa would definitely believe that.

"Dad. Seriously." Sammy was giving him The Look. "I'm nine years old. I have straight As. I'm not stupid."

Which was something Eddie knew of course. He was endlessly proud of all of his super smart kids who did a million times better in school than he and Steve ever did.

But he didn't think believing in Santa was a sign of a kid not being smart.

"You're smart enough to learn the truth, which is that Santa gives the parents a lot more control than we let you think. Don't you think it would be harder to get Maddy to do her homework if I said 'Dad will take a present away' instead of 'Santa is watching to make sure you do your homework'?"

Sammy looked out at the garage, the clutter of children's outdoors toys and broken Christmas decorations and bulk snacks for lunchboxes scattered around.

"So he just gives you the toys when he thinks we've been good enough for them?" Sammy asked, still sounding unsure.

"Exactly! And he usually delivers them a couple weeks early so we can make sure they're wrapped and ready for tomorrow."

"So why keep it all a secret?"

Damn Sammy for always being two steps ahead of Eddie.

"It's more fun this way! Olivia was so excited to leave out cookies before bed, remember? If we told her this, she wouldn't even get to be excited about Rudolph eating the carrots, right?"

"So Rudolph is...real?"

"Okay, that one might be a lie," Eddie gave in on that to sell the rest of it. That's what you had to do with Sammy.

"So who eats the carrots?"

"I take bites and spit them in the trash. You know I hate carrots."

"Why don't you make Dad do it?" Sammy leaned against Eddie's side, letting out a long yawn. He was probably sitting out here for the last couple of hours waiting. He had to be exhausted.

"Dad did a lot of that stuff when you were really little. For five whole years before we switched."

"So he sleeps while you bring out all the presents?"

Eddie's face went red as he thought about what Steve was probably doing in their room right now.

"Yep! He did a lot of baking and stuff all day today so I let him rest," Eddie wrapped an arm around Sammy as his weight became heavier against him. "I think you should probably get some rest, too. Santa wouldn't want your Christmas morning ruined because you stayed up all night."

"I guess." Sammy yawned again. "Can I sleep on the couch?"

"You know Dad's rule. Bedrooms only on Christmas."

"Yeah, but that was for the secret. Now I know."

"But Maddy and Olivia don't. We have to keep this a secret from them, okay?" Eddie paused when he heard some footsteps directly above them. His brows furrowed.

"Maybe Santa forgot one?" Sammy asked, perking up.

"Maybe. Better get to your bed so he doesn't see that you're awake," Eddie nudged him.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Sammy was rushing out of the garage and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Eddie looked above him, but no more bumps could be heard.

After setting all the presents under the tree in a mostly organized fashion, Eddie got back to the bedroom, where Steve was fast asleep.

He got into bed carefully, not wanting to wake him up, but Steve's eyes blinked open slowly as he curled up under the comforter.

"Took you too long," Steve whispered.

"Sammy."

"What?" Steve's eyes opened all the way and tears were instantly filling them. "Does he know?"

"Sh," Eddie pulled Steve against his chest and ran his hands through his soft hair. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Sleep, love."

"Eds-"

They heard a small bump on the roof and then silence.

Steve sat up and looked out the bedroom window, then back at Eddie.

"What was that?"

"Must've been Santa," Eddie teased.

Steve rolled his eyes.

They both stayed up for a bit longer to make sure no other noises happened outside, but fell asleep when there was nothing.

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

The next morning, all three kids jumped into their bed, yelling about how many presents Santa brought them and how full their stockings were.

Steve and Eddie made their way downstairs, rubbing their eyes as the kids pushed them down on the couch while they started grabbing gifts.

By the end, the kids were so busy playing with new toys, they didn't notice one more present hiding between the fireplace and the tree. Eddie reached over for it, not recognizing the wrapping paper.

"Did Robbie say she was getting them something else?" he asked, holding the gift out to Steve.

"Nope," Steve took it, checked the tag, then handed it back to Eddie with a shrug. "Says it's for you."

Wayne wouldn't be bringing his gifts for everyone over until that afternoon, so who could this one even be from?

He opened it carefully, worried that it was a prank by Steve and the kids. It wouldn't be the first time they managed to pull off a prank gift.

The confusion only increased when he pulled out a small plastic replica of the London Bridge.

"You don't even like London that much. Who got you that?" Steve asked, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"No idea."

Sammy looked up at them over the new book about planets he got and beamed.

"Santa brought you a present!"

Eddie was suddenly reminded of their conversation last night, how Sammy insisted Santa was just in London and couldn't possibly have made it here.

Eddie had seen a lot of weird things in his life, had ignored a lot of them and passed them up to weird coincidence, but this was different.

He set the replica on the table by the couch and wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, kissing the top of his head as he leaned further into him.

"Santa?" Steve asked.

"Must've been a good boy this year," Eddie smiled.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you were," Steve kissed his cheek before turning back to watch their kids playing on the floor.

Maybe Eddie would have to write a letter to Santa next year to thank him for the gift.

[enbysiriusblack]

"He's a twat."

Mary and Marlene glanced to each other, barely controlling their smirks as Lily began to unpromptly complain about James Potter once again.

"I mean who does he think he is?" She waved her hairbrush in the air, "Showing off instead of focusing on the match going on! He's probably the reason we lost, you know? And Frank's thinking about giving him captain? Is he completely insane? I get that Potter is good at quidditch and yeah, I'll admit he's got leader potential and knows how to inspire people and he's smart enough to come up with good game plans for matches, and can pay enough attention to work out his team's strengths and downfalls. But God, he's such a show off! We're trying to watch the match and he just has to start doing broom tricks mid game, taking our attention off the actual match and missing a goal!"

"Pretty sure most people still saw the goal", Mary snorted.

"Well", Lily huffed, agitated, "I didn't! I was trying to watch it and he just starts grinning right at me then stands up on his broom and flips it! I completely missed the goal, and then he had the audacity to spend the rest of the match concentrating and not glancing back at me once."

"Is that... bad?" Marlene interjected.

Lily looked at her like she completely missed the point, "Yes!"

"You want him to look at you?" Mary smiled, sending a knowing look to Marlene.

Lily turned a bright crimson, "Of course not! I just mean that he shouldn't look at me during a match just to try to take my attention away from everyone else, and then purposely not look at me for the rest of the match after succeding in his stupid, conniving, little plan!"

"Wow, he's horrible", Marlene sarcastically drawled out.

Lily did not pick up her tone and instead sighed, sitting back on her bed and pulling her jumper over her head.

"Exactly, Marlene!" She huffed, "Now, I've got to go to breakfast where he's going to be sitting having already piled up a plate of all my favourite breakfast foods and poured me a cup of tea!"

Lily stormed angrily out of the room, after not-so-discreetly checking she looked okay in the mirror.

"She's the smart one", Marlene frowned in shock.

Mary nodded with a laugh, "Well, yeah, didn't you know cute boys thoughtfully dishing you up breakfast was the worst thing ever?"

[theclairvoyage]

Mermaid Purse - Part 2 of 3

I know I said this would be 2 parts, but I couldn't help myself :))

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Marine Biologist!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: Summertime in Clearwater, Florida means no school, which means instead of teaching Marine Biology at a local university, you're bartending at The Rusty Sawfish, a bar located on the marina of Clearwater Beach. The owner's friend, who happens to be a sexy, suarthy Texan contractor, moves to town to start over and help his friend with a project, stumbling across you in the process... and you thought summer in Florida couldn't get hotter.

Warnings for Part 2: Minors DNI! adult language, alcohol consumption, violence, mentions of blood, descriptions of a traumatic injury, sexual tension, reader is female, reader is able-bodied, unspecified age gap, allusions to smut, SMUT!, kissing, fingering (f receiving), ass play (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cuddling

WC: 4.5k

Morning arrives, and the air in your room feels different.

Not because there’s a handsome naked man sleeping next to you, though that’s reason enough— but it’s just a feeling. Like the sunshine peeking through the blinds is brighter, the sound of the ocean more soothing than usual, the chirps and calls of birds beyond the window musical instead of annoying.

And speaking of feeling, as you stir under the sheets, the soreness of your muscles and down there awakens. And the urge to pee.

You sit up in bed and peek at the man next to you, whose usual terse, rugged features are now serene. His face relaxed in slumber, lips pouty and hands folded underneath the pillow, messy curls drooping down to his brow. The rhythmic inhale and exhale of his breath.  You wonder what, if anything, he dreams of.

Carefully, you stand from the bed and tiptoe to your attached bathroom. Quietly, you shut the door and flip the light on, looking at your naked figure in the large mirror.

Small hickeys cover the skin on your breasts and around your nipples, though he was smart enough to avoid your neck.  Several more hickeys line the inner seam of your thigh, reminding you just how good he is with his mouth.  The reminiscence fuels your semi-dormant arousal.

Your skin glows, like a vampire in the sunlight.  Your hair points in all directions.  And your eyes have a glint of mischief, of whimsey.  But you did nothing wrong—quite the contrary.  And damn, it felt good.

You step back into your dim bedroom and slip under the covers, still warm from his body heat.  Pulling your phone from its face-down position on your nightstand, you check the time.  It’s still early, before 7:00 AM.

Joel stirs next to you, grumbling as he moves.  You’re not facing him, but you can feel him scooting closer to you.  He noses behind your ear as he pulls you flush to his chest.

“Been up long?” he murmurs just beneath your ear, leaving kisses on the soft skin there, working his way down to your shoulder.  You talk in between breathy moans.

“No,” you say, “maybe fifteen minutes.”

He hums in approval into your skin, turning you on your back and slotting himself between your legs.  You look up at him, astounded—how can he look even better when he’s just woken up, all grunts and messy curls and outgrown stubble?

Though he could say the same for you, how a woman so beautiful could be that way wearing nothing but unkempt hair, soft, glowing skin, and a smile on her face.  His fingers caress your cheek before stopping at your mouth, a callused index finger prodding at your lower lip, asking for permission.  You grant it, letting it enter your mouth, closing your eyes as you suck softly on his finger.

He growls, removing his finger as he bends down to kiss you.  It’s all teeth and tongue and spit—messy, hot, and full of unspoken words.  You’re not sure how you made it this far in life without passion as tumultuous as this, like this starts a new chapter for you.

Soon, Joel is kissing his way down your body, stopping to admire his artwork.  Licking the red marks softly, his lips and tongue apologizing for their misbehavior last night.  Murmuring how you taste so good andhow you’re so beautiful.  He looks up at you with those flaming amber eyes, full of more unspoken words as he hooks your knees over his shoulders.

“Joel,” you whine, running a finger through his hair as he tastes you again, a whine that quickly turns into a sharp gasp.  He hums in satisfaction into your core as he laps you up, groaning again about how you taste so fuckin’ good.

You’re caught between trying to watch his gorgeous face as he works you into a fit of ecstasy, a picture to savor in your mind, and snapping your eyes shut, back arching off the bed at the sheer pleasure he’s giving you.

Eyes on me, baby, he groans into you, rewarding you with two thick fingers and a third in your ass when you obey.  And the stretch hurts, tearing into the sore spots, but only for a moment.  And then, it’s white-hot and all-consuming and you feel fucking good.

He coaxes your orgasm out of you slowly, a methodical and gratifying mixture of his mouth and fingers.  This isn’t his first rodeo, but he knows how to alter his approach to pull those high, breathy moans and gasps from you, giving himself a gold star when you curse and spit his name.  And when you finally come on his face, pulling his hair as your muscles spasm, your vision blurs—white, then black, then white again, fuzzy around the edges.

He continues talking you through it—a couple that’s it, baby and curses and god, you’re fuckin’ beautiful, stopping only when your hips slow their circling, and your thighs relax ever so slightly.  But he doesn’t give you a break, no—because that was just the warm up.

And then he’s kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue, asking are you ready for me, baby and can you take it again.  And you’re nodding fervently, impatient, needing him inside you even though you haven’t yet come down from your first high.  He stares into your eyes as he hikes your legs up and over his hips, lines up with your soaked entrance and pushes in, your faces mirroring one another—mouths agape, breaths paused, foreheads close enough to touch.

You’re so full of him, but not full enough—like you can’t ever get enough of him or his cock.  His rhythm is slower than last night, but he’s so deep, so attentive to your needs, like all it took was one time to learn you and your body.  He can’t take his eyes off you, arching for him and stuffed and crying and whimpering his name.  Like it’s the first time he’s heard his name in his entire life.

And he’s a quiet man, but not while he’s inside you—no, then he never seems to shut up.  Making sure you know that you’re taking me so well, again that you’re so goddamn perfect, and of course that you feel so fuckin’ good.  You wish you could rewind and replay this moment at your leisure.

The kettle is close to boiling, and he’s asking are you close, sweet girl, though you both know you are with each quick pant that leaves your lungs, the way tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you try to hold on, try to keep your focus on him as he thrusts in and out of you.  You nod, too taxed and wound up to speak, vexed by his obsidian eyes.  Let go, baby, he urges you, hands cupping your face.  Come for me.  So, you do.

You vaguely register that he’s again talking you through it, praising you, but you can’t tell if your eyes are still open.  He follows suit, spilling his hot spend inside you with a whimper as you squeeze him.  He lies on top of you, careful not to crush you, a hand smoothing your sweaty hair from your face.

“Y’alright?” He asks, a lopsided smile plastered on his also sweaty but devilishly handsome face.

“I think so.  Haven’t really come back yet,” you reply.  Then, he kisses you, slowly and softly, a moment so tender you aren’t sure that it’s real.

Moments pass as you lie there, underneath him and still full of him as he softens.  Finally, he pulls out of you as you protest, needing to pee again.  When he watches you tiptoe to the bathroom and beckon him to join you in the shower, he’s not so soft anymore.

Most of the next hour is spent with Joel on you, inside you, and he’s surprisingly agile and resilient for his age.  You’re raw and tired, but you find yourself needing more and more of him, and he you, like your bodies were made for each other—the perfect fit and chemistry.

Around 10:00 AM, you convince him that it’s time for coffee and sunshine, and he obliges.  He dissents to your decision to put some clothes on until he sees that it’s his flannel you’re wearing and fights the urge to bend you over the countertop and fuck you for the fourth time this morning.  Later, you tell him, promising him with a kiss.

“No work today?” He asks you, sipping black coffee from a dolphin mug, which he begrudgingly accepted from you.  You’re pushing eggs and sausage around a pan, feeling his eyes all but burning holes through the back of his flannel you’re wearing.

“Nope.  But I do have work to do.  You could join me,” you say, turning around to catch him staring.  He cocks an eyebrow at you, interested.

“I’m listenin’,” he says, eyes locked on you as he sips from the mug again.

“I’m doing some research on the shark population in this area.  Was going to take a boat out and do some tagging, but I think it’ll be too windy,” you ramble, not facing him directly, but turning halfway between the stove and him so he can hear you over the sizzle of food.

“And?”

“And—,” you start, “Gives me a good opportunity to do some old-fashioned surveying.”

“So… you’re gonna swim?” He asks, propping the mug down, which sounds empty now from the way it echoes on the countertop.  You hear him stand from the chair and prod over to you, sliding his hands underneath the front of the flannel, warm on your torso.  He kisses the skin in front of your ear before working down your jawline and nearly sucking a mark into your neck.

“Food’s burnin’, sweetheart,” he teases you.  The food is done, thankfully, so you move it off the hot burner and onto one that’s off.  Joel’s still kissing you, waiting for an answer to his question.

“N-no, no swimming—ah, fuck,” you groan, as one hand squeezes your breast while the other travels further south.

“Distracted, are we?” Joel whispers in your ear, spreading your wet folds.  “Still so wet for me,” he marvels.

He turns you around, pushing the flannel apart to uncover your breasts and torso, swirling his fingertip around your clit.  You gasp, staring into his burning eyes.

“Joel, the food,” you protest.  Your stomach flips when he gets on his knees and spreads your legs with his hand.  He leans forward to kiss your thigh, chuckling into the skin there.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby—I’m gonna eat,” he says, pulling your leg over his shoulder and devouring you.

After yet another orgasm and some real breakfast, you finally get to tell Joel your real plan for the day—to take a GoPro and a drone and survey the sharks near parts of the beach.  He’s more than happy to accompany you.

Once everything is loaded into his truck, you two make haste for the beach.  Windy doesn’t quite cover the conditions out here—and the waves are tumultuous.  There are various “beach closed” signs posted on the shoreline, and rightfully so.  Wind this fast and waves this high make it easy for swimmers to get knocked over and makes it easier for big marine predators to confuse an unsuspecting person for real prey.

“That gonna be a problem for us?” Joel asks as you two stake out a spot on the dock of the marina.

“Nope.  I have my school ID.  We have clearance to do research in most conditions—obviously at our own risk,” you tell him, getting the GoPro ready.  It might be too windy for the drone.

“So, what’re you lookin’ for out here, darlin’?” He asks, watching you set up the GoPro, a laptop, and an iPad for notes.

“Long story short, I’m surveying the shark population here to see if there have been any changes to the health of the ecosystem,” you explain briefly.

“In layman’s terms, sweetheart,” he teases you, wind whipping his curls about his face.  You fish a hat out of your backpack and hand it to him.  “Thanks, darlin’.”

“Clearwater passed some laws a few years ago to limit fishing and help some endangered shark species recover numbers, so part of our job at the university is to help the city make sure those laws are working—or not,” you explain.

Joel likes watching you talk about this—your childlike zeal, curiosity, and passion make him smile.

“I see why you’re a teacher,” he says, nudging your arm with a smirk.  Your cheeks heat.

“Are you making fun of me, Joel Miller?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you.  “I’m kinda amazed, if I’m bein’ honest.”

His confession shocks you.  “By me?  Why?”

He shrugs before pulling you into his arms, kissing your temple as you settle into him.

“Just somethin’ special about you,” he murmurs into your hair before letting go, tone indicative that he wanted to say more.  “Let’s do this thing, eh?”

Giggling, you hand him a spool of thick thread.  “This’ll go on the GoPro, and we’ll drop it in.  It’s not much, but with humans not being in the water today, we might be able to see some good stuff down here.”

He nods, tying the thread to the GoPro and unspooling several feet.  You connect the GoPro to the iPad to make sure it’s capturing video correctly.

“Ready?” You ask him.  He makes several tough-looking fancy knots and nods, handing the device to you.

“Must’ve been a Boy Scout,” you tease him, winking.  His nostrils flare slightly before he rolls his eyes at you.

“Boy Scout,” he scoffs.  “’M self-taught.”  You widen your eyes and whistle sarcastically, to which he laughs.

“Alright, let’s drop it here.  This is probably 30 feet deep.”

Joel slowly lowers the GoPro into the water, and you both watch the feed as it sinks to the bottom.  It’s calmer underneath than it looks from the surface, though still murky.  There’s a decent view of the water beyond the dock.

“Now what?” He asks.

“It’s like fishing.  We just wait.”

“Now that’s something ‘m familiar with,” he says excitedly, crouching to sit next to you, grunting as he does.

“Are you gonna be able to get back up?” You tease.  The rapport between the two of you comes naturally, like you’ve known each other for a while.  Joel pinches your side lightly.

“Watch it, sweetheart.”

Over the next hour, a variety of fish and sharks swim in front of the GoPro.  Red snappers, groupers, sheepshead, cobias, and sea bass make up the majority of the sightings.  All of the sharks were either spinners or blacktips, along with the occasional nurse shark.

Joel was amazed by your expertise of marine life.  Each question he had was answered and explained clearly by you—and truthfully, you’re always stoked to share your wealth of knowledge about the ocean world.  Usually, you have these conversations with Georgia or one of your students—never a romantic partner.  Until now, that is.

Suddenly, a big figure approaches the GoPro from some meters away.  You grab Joel’s arm and point toward the screen.

“What is it?” He asks, as intrigued by it as you are.

“Not sure, but it’s definitely a shark,” you whisper.

The shark cruises closer to the camera, and the smaller fish swim away from view.  The deep body, blunt snout, and elongated pectoral fins tell you that it’s a bull shark.  It’s big, but not record-breaking big—likely 6 feet long.

“Oh, fuck,” you marvel, “It’s a bull.”

The two of you observe it swim toward the camera before turning at the last second.  These sharks tend to swim in murky waters and cruise near the bottom of shallower waters.  They’re notorious for being aggressive and have been responsible for 26 fatal attacks on humans—plus, with one of the strongest bite forces per weight in the animal kingdom, they are not one to spar with.

“I’ve heard ‘bout these guys.  Scary,” Joel says.

“They are nothing to mess with, absolutely.  Though scary is a relative term,” you say, half-teasing.  Joel nudges you again.

“You sayin’ you’d jump down there with that thing?”

“No way.  It’s perfect hunting conditions for them.  Windy, cloudier waters—easier for them to catch something that has no clue it’s coming.”

Joel whistles.  “How can they even see down there?”

“They can sense electrical impulses via these small pores on their face, so anything with a heartbeat can be detected.  They also have a keen sense of smell—which is why you should never go in the ocean when you’ve got an open wound.  It’s bait, essentially,” you reply seamlessly.

Joel stands abruptly, looking toward the shoreline.  Gone is any semblance of joy from his face.  He points in that direction.

“So—we’re in trouble, here, darlin’,” he says sternly, pulling your arm gently to alert you.

Oh, no.

Three kids, likely middle school age, have entered the water.  No parents or guardians are anywhere to be found, and with the beach closed, there aren’t any lifeguards.

You check the iPad and see the bull shark has noticed them.  They’re 100, 150 meters from the dock, in shallow water—perfect placement for the shark.  It darts away from view.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, “We have to get them out of there.  Now!”

You leave your stuff at the dock and sprint toward the beach, fast footsteps pounding on the wood.  Joel follows suit.  A dorsal fin carves through the surface of the water, heading directly for the splashing kids.

“Shark!  Get out of the water! NOW!” You scream, lungs raw from sprinting and yelling.  The kids don’t hear you until it’s too late.

Suddenly, the dorsal fin makes a sharp turn, and one of the kids goes down.  The other two shriek and dash toward you and Joel.  An eerie cloud of red billows out from where the shark is as it continues thrashing.  The water is so shallow that the shark’s caudal fin is visible, splashing as it whips around.

“Joel, call 911!” You screech.  He whips out his phone and obeys.

This is the worst possible scenario for a beachgoer.  Panic sets in like a late-night freeze and seizes your lungs.  The air inside them is trapped, heavy—like it’s turned to sludge.  The kid surfaces from the water, a haunting, waterlogged howl escaping his throat.  You grab a long net from the lifeguard chair and sprint over.  It’s dangerous for you to enter during an attack, but you have no choice if you want to save this kid’s life.  You’re ankle-deep now, the bloody water covering your feet.

Quickly, you spot the dorsal fin and stab where you estimate the gills would be as hard as you can with the blunt end of the net.  The caudal fin whips around a few times before charging again.  You smack the gills as hard as you possibly can once more, and the shark retreats momentarily.  You know it’ll come back soon—time to get out.

The kid surfaces again, reaching for you.  He can’t be older than 10.  Quickly, you pick him up and move as fast as you can toward Joel.  His wails and sobs wrack your soul, and you do your best not to cry.  You lie him down by Joel, who has taken his flannel off.

A large, angry bite mark on the child’s left lower leg oozes red onto the sand.  He’s screaming still, and his friends are sobbing too.  Joel steps in with his shirt and ties it above the bite mark to hinder the bleeding.  You hold the child’s head in your hands and look directly into petrified, bright blue eyes.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay,” you try to soothe him, “Look at me.  Grab my hands.”

The child obeys, though he’s still sobbing and hyperventilating.  Joel stays put near the child’s leg, looking at you with a terrified expression.

Sirens blare in the distance before you see a firetruck and two ambulances pull up.  Several cop cars follow.

“Breathe,” you command him.  “Just breathe, buddy—you’ll be fine.  The paramedics are here.”

The boy nods, unblinking, eyes still glued to yours—like looking at you is numbing the pain temporarily, like if he blinks it’ll start hurting again.  In this moment, it’s just the two of you.  As if healing energy is flowing from your hands to his head, down to his leg—he calms.  Logical you knows it’s just adrenaline covering up the pain, but you’re unfazed by it.

Before you know it, the boy is on a stretcher and taken away in the ambulance.  They assure you he’ll be fine, commending you for saving his life—but you don’t feel like it.  A kid almost died, and now a shark will likely be killed.  Deep down, you know it’s to protect the public—but how many animals—and people—have to die before humans understand that the ocean is a wild, unknown, unfriendly, and unforgiving place?

A deep, soothing voice snaps you back to reality, placating your nerves.

“Y’alright, honey?” Joel asks, rubbing your back softly as you both watch the ambulance leave for the hospital.  You swallow loudly, your throat bone dry and stinging, like you’ve been crying.  You feel him stare at you, but you can’t look at him.  Like if you take one look at those rich amber eyes, you’ll lose the composure you’ve had since pulling the young boy out of the shark’s reach.

“Hey, c’mere,” he soothes, pulling you into his chest, arms firm around your back.  Finally, you relax and sink into him, and like a string was pulled, the hot, salty tears start flowing.

Joel comforts you as you weep into his shirt.  His large hands span up and down your back, smooth your hair, and squeeze you tight so there’s never a moment when you’re not glued to him.  S’okay, sweet girl, he whispers in your ear. Y’saved a life.  I’m so proud of you.

Time passes as you two stand there like this.  You’re not sure how much, but eventually, he pulls back and cups your face in his hands, swiping away the streaks of tears leaking from your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, smiling.  It kind of pisses you off how beautiful he is and how even in pain, he conveys so much tenderness and care.

“Hey,” you croak, giggling.  Joel laughs, too.

“There she is.”

He leans in and kisses the tears from your chin and cheeks before stopping at your lips.  It’s a gesture so poignant, so compassionate that it almost makes you cry again.

“S’go home, yeah?  I’ll cook for you.  We can do whatever y’want,” Joel offers, wrapping an arm around you as you return to the dock for your equipment.

You look at him, beaming, still so beautiful to him even though you’ve been crying.  Rosy cheeks, puffy eyes, frizzy hair.  The sight stops his heart, he thinks.

He could get used to this.

It’s late.

You know you should go to bed—you’re exhausted.  Eyes bloodshot from crying, forehead sore from constant furrowing, soles of your feet bruised from pounding on the dock at full force.  But Joel has other plans.

First, he made you dinner—and it shouldn’t have shocked you that he’s an amazing cook, given that you know he’s good with his hands, but it did.  Juicy chicken, creamy mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, and roasted vegetables, all cooked to perfection.  My daughter’s favorite, he recollected.  A daughter?! The words came out before you processed what he’d said, eyes giant saucers.  He’d laughed—Don’t worry, was gonna tell ya.

And then the real getting to know each other happened.  He spilled about his divorce, the custody battle, and his perfect daughter who still lives in Texas.  And he asked about your family and why you’re estranged, placed a warm hand on your forearm, thumb rubbing the skin there, as you ranted about your deadbeat dad and alcoholic mother, and the saints of an aunt and grandmother who raised you.

Afterwards, you attempted to do the dishes, as a way of thanking Joel for making dinner—but he insisted he’d do it.  Lemme take care of you, he grumbled, while looking at you in a way that made you acquiesce.  A look that said he’d either kill you or take you back to your bedroom and ravage you.

As you pulled two beers out of your fridge, prepared to enjoy the evening breeze and sunset on the patio, you turned to find the kitchen empty, instead hearing the gush of bathwater filling up the tub.

Joel led you in by the hand, undressed you, got distracted and caressed your skin, and placed a few tender kisses here and there, which made you shiver.  Now that y’got goosebumps, get in the tub, he teased you. 

He cracked open the beers and sat on the toilet seat, so you weren’t alone, and asked about a thousand more questions—of sharks, of you, of Clearwater.  His eyes twinkled when you answered, fixated only on you.  The loud rumble of his laugh echoed in the vaulted bathroom, and you wanted to hear it all night, but again he’d insisted it was time to get out of the tub—before y’turn to a damn prune.

And then he put lotion on the spots you couldn’t reach, combed your knotted hair, tucked you in bed before shimmying out of his jeans and shirt and joining you, rubbing the now-moisturized skin on your back and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.  Your fingers crept up and down his stomach, getting closer to where you wanted him most each time they followed the dark trail of hair. Y’sure? he asked.  We ain’t gotta do anything f’ya don’t want.

But when he looked down at you and saw the way you needed him and heard the way you whined for him, it became inevitable.  And he took care of you in a way no other man had or could attempt to, touching the deepest parts of you, making your pleasure his only passion, bringing you to the peak in each position you wanted him to.

He whispered you’re so beautiful, y’look so good on my cock, love bein’ inside you, love hearin’ you say my name into your ear as you cried out his name and pressed half-moon shapes into his skin, clutching him so close you felt his pulse against your own.

And you squeezed him as hard as you could when he said close, baby—I’m so close, until his hips stuttered, and he groaned your name, and painted hot white streaks inside you.

And now—it’s almost midnight.  Gil texted and told you to take tomorrow off, and as many more as you needed until you felt ready.  You had tons of other texts, no doubt related to the shark attack, but you had no energy to engage them.  Thrilled that you have a full day to do nothing, you sunk into the covers, wrapped in the strong arms of a somewhat stranger, and dozed off to sleep.

Taglist: @burntheedges, @tuquoquebrute, @syd-djarin, @danaispunk, @anoverwhelmingdin <3

[m3-kk]

TCF NOVEL SPOILERS- My TCF notes

Hmmm it’s been a minute since I posted any of my TCF notes about the chapters.. so here ya go! THIS US PART 2 SHAWTYS!!

Ch. 1- YESSS CHAPTER 1!! Not the Kings Palace going kaboom 😶 Cale needs to rest!!! Slacker chan!!!

Ch. 5- AHHHHHHHHHH LEE SOO HYUKKKKKKKK LETSS GOOOOO! BLACK HAWKK OOO

Ch. 6- His name is now Sui Khan 😮

Ch. 7- 🍪 Cookiess! So we have to travel different dimensions now? Cale needs a break 😭😭

Ch. 8- World with the white mages = Xiaolen Planet

Ch.9- YAY DIVINE ITEM MIRROR LAPTOP THINGY! We are definitely going to like the other worlds people evil smirk 😏

Ch. 10- HAH CALE HUNG UP ON DUKE FREDO LOL! Sooo Cale is a god. 😀

Ch. 12- Dead mana is purer AND Cale’s power is more efficient here? Interesting..

Ch. 13- Hey we have a spare world tree!

Ch. 15- Mary is registering as a candidate to be a necromancer empress GO MARY!

Ch. 16- AW HER FAKE NAME IS “Heni Wishrop” HENI STANDS FOR HENITUSE!

Everyone thinks our Mary is powerful hehe!

Ch. 21- Working with Zero & the 4th Prince for the Harmony test :D

Ch. 22- OOooo Black Rain 🌧️

Ch. 24- Now we actually need to kill those hunters. How dare they lay a finger on our family. Let’s flip them over immediately.

Ch. 25- Yay! Hong & On <3 Let’s go to the infected area! 2nd Princess?

Ch. 26- the 2nd imperial princess has been converted to Caleism hah m! Tree-bush monster ye fire, destruction, protection!

Ch. 27- Are you human? HAHAH CALEE

Ch. 28- That Marquis guy is smart. Cale really is acting like a purifier so funny!

Ch. 31- Blood Message! How scary!

Ch. 34- Attacking the bad guys >:]

Ch. 36- BURNNNNNNN 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Ch. 37- 50% power to get 2,500% as a result! SO EFFICIENTTTT WEEEEEE

Ch. 38- THE HUNTER WHO HUNTS HUNTERS! GO CALE SO POWERFUL HA!

Ch. 39- Cale.. not everyone is a super powerful ultimate other worldly being like you! I feel bad for Goldie Gramps 😭

Ch. 40- In Prison with the fam 😜

Ch. 41- We are going to loot!! Goldie Gramps is angry and that dragon is timid but crazy. I love our family! CHAOS LOVE

Ch. 42- DESTROY THE ESTATE MWAHAH

Ch. 43- So sad that we couldn’t loot 😭🥲

Ch. 44- Ooo Opening the safe 💰

Ch. 54- ooo revealing us to the empire?

Ch. 58- Choking? Reminds me of Adin

Ch. 63- HAH I KNEW IT THE FAKE WT IS STAYING YOOO

Ch. 64- INFOOO! Not the Patriarch blowing up that’s crazy! We could’ve gotten so much more info! But oh well! Five Colors ooo!

Ch. 65- HAHAH THE GOD OF DEATH IN THE GROUP CHAT HAHAH I LOVE HIMM HEHHEHE (I love this chapter)

Ch. 66- AWWW Chatting with fire of Purification in puppy form!

Ch. 67- This is so cute I’m glad we get a lil’ rest just chatting with the nice puppy ❤️ I love!!!

Ch. 69- Almost the end of this arc!

Ch. 71- HOME WITH THE MONEYYYYY

Ch. 73- Ron, Beacrox! I missed uuuu!

Ch. 75- Aw the Henituse Fam! Billos!

Ch. 76- You get a mine, you get a mine. EVERYONE GETSA MINE!!

Ch. 78- YOU HAVE BEEN PROMOTED YOU ARE NOW ONE OF MY ELITE EMPLOYEES!

Ch. 79- @CP we have a mommy on our side? Mummy’s boy emperor as well???

Ch. 81- CENTRAL PLAINS?! The sworn brother goodbye was cute.

Ch. 83- We meet CP’s clone?? Cutie??

Ch. 85- The disrespect! They can’t pronounce our Cale Henituse’s name!

Ch. 86- NEW NAMES LETSGOOO

Ch. 90- YOO we got a golden plaque!

Ch. 91- Cale ignores Toonka but not Roan!

Ch. 93- We found the living jiangshi!

Ch. 94- enlightenment is crazy****

Ch. 97- Talking with the Sword Sainttt

Ch. 100- Purification! Chapter 100!

Ch. 101- One word, blood. SHITTTTT NOO

Ch. 102- AWKWARD! Yay Choi Jung SOO

Ch. 106- LET HIM EATTTT

Ch. 108- So many ally’s yay !!!!

Ch. 112- We. Are. Going. To. EATT! (a elixir)

Ch. 113- 70% shield 53% water

Ch. 116- The Alliance leader is being bitchy SHOW EM’ WHOSE BOSS! (Roan misses Alberu)

Ch. 118- Don’t hurt our Cale! Please!

Ch. 119- Aw I love when Choi Han & Beacrox talk together about family

Ch. 121- Ah the god ole trash bastard days

Ch. 123- Green Forest Bastards try and mess with us?! Angry Cale! >:(

Ch. 124- OO Cale is the BOSS MAN

Ch. 127- 68% then 72% of fire!!

Ch. 128- Pfft Caleism has a poem now lol.

Ch. 129- HUHH Big complicated lore??

Ch. 131- WOAHH The Heavenly Demon is a smart cookie fr fr wow intelligent!

Ch. 135- The Left Guard is so cute awe

Ch. 136- Oh no the Heavenly Demon ain’t doing so good :[

Ch. 137- Helping out the HD again. Spy?

Ch. 139- Aw Choi Family spars. I love it

Ch. 141- HD is being healed yay

Ch. 142- I was so concerned about Cale the whole time! Bloody Battle

Ch. 146- (I hope everyone at home is ok)

Ch. 151- TALKING WITH ALBERU YAYAYAY

Ch. 152- Pinnacle Demon is poison crazy

Ch. 153- We going to destroy things now?

Ch. 154- YAY DESTRUCTION DESTROY

Ch. 155- FINALLY FLIP THINGS OVER KYA

Ch. 157- OO WATER AP FOUND SOMETHIN

Ch. 158- OMG DRAGON LORE?? YAHOO

Ch. 159- “Raon’s lackey” I got the chills!

Ch. 160- OOOooo I’m hooked! Dragons<3

Ch. 162- Oh DAMN! We got a mf jackpot! Water is 300 percent stronger than the OG. No blood shed! Dragons are great!

Ch. 163- HAHA LOOTING ANCIENT STUFF

Ch. 165- Scale+Crown+Crown=Red Crown

Ch. 169- Shit is going down! TSUNAMI!

Ch. 171- How dare she think to threaten us, she shall die by Choi Hans sword.

Ch. 176- Old man Baek describes Cale’s world and “reads” him

Ch. 183- I love that we can run wild!! 😜

Ch. 185- THE PRIESTESS the youngest daughter of Orsena!

Ch. 186- The Dominantung Aura

Ch. 187- Our little Han got stronger (I’m so fucking proud of him 🥲)

Ch. 188- We killed her.. Last words?

Ch. 189- The Formation Collapsed!

Ch. 190- Raon’s MC moment. (Cute bond)

Ch. 191- Using water AP to Max! Or not?

Ch. 192- the Punto Banhui and Tears💧

Ch. 195- You got games on your phone?

Ch. 196- Everyone wants Cale to be a god

Ch. 199- WE LEFT!!! NOW WE ARE HOMEE

Ch. 200- Awww so cute at Alberu’s casa

Ch. 201- That actually so funny 🤣

Ch. 202- Zoom Call with Ahn Roh Man talking about gamess. Similarities?

Ch. 206- Aw it been a bit since we chilled

Ch. 209- Speech ruined! (So every time Cale has to do a speech it’s interrupted)

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 6.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 4.6k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing, descriptions of injuries, allusions to suicide

story playlist

Instead of sleeping that night, Shera read over Aemond’s notes, unable to start once she started. She lit a few candles, shoving Moongeist over in bed. “Taking up too much room, bubby,” she huffed, sitting cross legged and stacking some blankets and pillows into a makeshift book stand. Finally, after adjusting the candles position a few times, she could finally see. She began to read.

‘Ser Symeon was known to wield a long staff with blades at both ends and would spin it in his hands to chop down two men at once.’ the text said. Aemond had written, very crudely and sloppily; ‘Ask Criston about double ended staves. What about double ended morningstars? Is there such a thing?’

Between notes and annotations, he would have pieces of plain parchment shoved between the pages. Upon it were no words, but drawings. They started simply, a shaky depiction of a box, an etching of a vase in charcoal. As the years progressed through the book, his drawings improved. He never strayed from the medium of simple charcoal on parchment, but they were still very good. 

Shera tilted her head, inspecting the folded papers. She wouldn’t have expected Aemond to be the artistic one, she always thought Helaena to take up that mantle with her intricate embroidery of various insects and beyond. But these were on par with etchings pressed into a maester’s journal, or something displayed in a posh palace in Essos. She realized that besides a creative outlet, these served another purpose— it hit her quickly, he used drawing as a way to train his lone eye back into a sense of depth perception and attention to detail. Those two things were what Shera suffered with immensely, still. As adept as she’d become with sewing, she still pricked her finger or accidentally sewed into her skin because she couldn’t see the correct position of the needle. Her designs for her clothes were intricate but hardly ever symmetrical and never able to be duplicated. 

It was so… smart. It was so smart of Aemond to pick up the skill of drawing, something so inherently reliant on sight, to train himself back to some sense of regularity. It was so… Aemond. 

Shera clenched her hand, her nails sinking into her palm. Why didn’t she think of that? Why didn’t she do anything— her sewing was hobbyistic at best and not nearly enough to train her eyesight. She’d spent all that time wallowing in self-pity instead of doing something. 

She felt an acute feeling of despair, then. I should have written to him more. I should’ve bombarded him with letters and given him no choice but to reply. I should’ve pried to Helaena to see what he was doing beyond niceties. 

Letting out a sigh, she pushed those thoughts away. 

Out of curiosity, she flipped to the end of the tome and looked for the latest drawing. Three pieces of paper fell from the back, onto her lap. 

Opening the first one, it was a depiction of Helaena holding Maelor near the window. There were streams of light coming through the window and the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. Maelor was smiling, his chubby fist held out to the curtain, the small indent of his dimpled cheeks even visible. The detail was… exquisite, it was like looking at a mirror of such a situation.

Opening the second one, it was smeared with charcoal dust. Unlike the first drawing, this one took up the entirety of the page. It was hard to discern for Shera what she was looking at, at first. Leaning more to the light, it became clear. It was a portrait of Vhagar, evident in the pallor of her scales and lack of horns. Each scale was detailed impeccably, some wrought with scars and marks from her old age. The sag of her throat was held up in regard, her teeth jagged and crooked, opening in a sneer or even a laugh. 

Shera imagined what Vhagar’s laugh would sound like— something out of children’s stories, like a cackling witch, smoke billowing from her nostrils as she swirled a cauldron of bubbling green ichor. It made her giggle, the thought of Vhagar hobbling from a hut in the woods with a cane made of gnarled oak, waving away the children who dared to set foot on her property. She would need to tell Aem— someone about her depiction some day. 

She never did have the chance to see Vhagar up close, as much as she had wanted to. Aemond had promised to take her for a ride when it was daytime, so she could see the expanse of the ocean from the sky. But he never did. He wasn’t able to. Something in her heart clenched as she thought of the fact that Aemond only got one ride upon Vhagar with his full sight, one ride upon his destiny while he was still whole. Before it was taken from him— from… both of them. 

She unfolded the third paper. It was a drawing of a woman, someone Shera didn’t recognize. But they… felt familiar. The woman had billowing curls and a snarky smile on her face, eyes lit up with fire and fervor. The positioning of the piece made it feel like she was looking back to someone— her arm outstretched in an offering, as if to beckon the person looking towards them. 

Shera wasn’t sure what to make of it— the other two drawings had been something she knew and could understand. But she didn’t understand this one. She wondered who the woman was, even after she’d drifted to sleep.

—

“Shera, are you warm?” Helaena asked softly as she observed Shera fanning herself with her hand, while Moongeist was panting furiously. 

“She ‘ought to be,” Aegon grumbled, arms folded over his chest as he looked out the slats of the wheelhouse window. “She’s still dressed like she’s in the North. Winter isn’t coming down here, Shera. You can take off the fur.” 

“… a bit warm, yes,” Shera muttered, narrowing her gaze at Aegon. It wasn’t simply just the climate temperature, but the fact that there were so many people in this wheelhouse at present, all warm bodies exuding heat.

Helaena had Maelor on her lap with Aegon to her right, and the twins to her left, who were constantly swapping seats. Aemond was sitting across from Helaena and next to Shera. He tried to give her as much room as possible, but their thighs were still touching. Moongeist was sitting on the floor, riding out the bumps. 

“Who’s bloody idea was it to stuff all of us into one wheelhouse?” Aegon continued, a bit crabby due to his lack of wine. 

“We’re almost there, Aegon. You can stop your whining at any time.” Aemond finally uttered. He had been quiet the whole ride up to the Kingswood, focusing solely on looking out the window. 

“I will stop whining when there is a breeze, a bottle in my hand and that dog is about ten feet away from me,” the oldest prince huffed. “He smells.” 

“Aegon, you smell bad on the best of days. Moongeist just needs a bath— do you even know what those are?” Shera interjected, coming to her wolf’s defense in a heartbeat. 

Helaena, Maelor and the twins giggled heartily. Aemond cracked a grin at the joke. 

“Uncle Aemond should dunk you in the river again, kepa,” Jaehaerys tittered, still laughing away. “You might catch a fish in your mouth again!” 

Aegon rolled his eyes and sighed— his lips perking up into a soft smile. “Maybe Uncle Aemond and the dog can fish in the river instead. Isn’t that what wolves do? Catch fish?” 

“… that’s bears,” Shera said with an unamused tone. 

The wheelhouse came to a creaking stop and Aegon was the first outside. Moongeist was next, followed by Maelor, then the twins. 

Helaena helped Shera down the steps, Aemond behind her. 

In a turn of events, Shera unclasped the fur stole from her shoulders, as well as the outer layer of her dress, tossing it back into the wheelhouse. She instantly felt lighter, the breeze cooling her shoulders. She had on a gray silk dress with cutout shoulders and a high throat clasp. It was flowy, almost weightless material. She adjusted her hat, which was a gift from Helaena. It was a sun hat with a veil sewed around it, coming down just below Shera’s jawline. 

“Ah, finally, you look somewhat like Shera and not a furred beast,” Aegon whistled, walking backwards towards the clearing. 

“I don’t wish to be encumbered any more than I already am in the wilderness. If I am chased by a boar, I don’t need ten pounds of fabric weighing me down.” 

“If you’re chased by a boar, then we will be eating roasted boar that very night, won’t we, Moongeist?” Hela cooed to the wolf, who was letting Maelor climb on his back.

“It feels strange,” Aemond murmured behind Shera, his hand ghosting over the small of her back to help guide her, as Moongeist was playing nanny to Maelor– which she didn’t entirely mind. “To be back here after all of this time– all of us.”

“Except Daeron,” Shera reminded him gently, her hand going down to pat Moongeist on pure instinct, but upon realizing he wasn’t there, she let out a noise of discontentment, her hand going to her chest to rest upon her furs, which weren’t there either. “Ugh, I don’t know what to do with my hands when I’m walking alone.”

“Moongeist is the new Daeron,” Aegon called back, now having Jaehaera upon his shoulders, while Jaehaerys was on Helaena’s shoulders. “I’m sure your dog can squire just as good as Daeron, anyhow.”

“You could always hold Aemond’s hand, Shera, like you used to,” Hela giggled, Aegon howling in turn.

“Oh, please, you didn’t get me anything for my nameday, brother– count this as my gift if you and Shera skip through the flowers hand in hand!” 

Aemond scowled. “If my niece weren’t upon your shoulders, brother, you’d be on the ground, preferably with a black eye.” 

Aegon stuck his tongue out mockingly and Jaehaera imitated him.

Soon enough, the troupe was sitting down in a grassy clearing, blanket over the dirt. The twins were stained blue already from the amount of blueberries they consumed, laying on their backs in the sun like two turtles. 

Aegon had managed to open a bottle of wine, sipping on it frequently while snacking on cheese and crackers.

 Helaena had a leaf insect crawling on her fingers, murmuring to herself as she observed it carefully. “They do not bleed… the mulberry leaves, they walk, animated upon mine hand… when crushed, they do not bleed, no blood… the leaves have no blood,” she hummed, the foliage-like creature.

“Do they change color with the seasons, Hela?” Shera asked as she, too, watched the bug. 

“Yes, they do,” the princess replied, violet eyes not moved from the insect. “In Winter, they die and crumble like the leaves, becoming gray and desiccated under the earth… but they’re just sleeping.”

“Mumma, mumma, tadboles,” Maelor squealed as Moongeist padded into the clearing with the toddler upon his back. “There’s… tadboles!”

Helaena was snapped from her reverie by his squeak. She extended her hand to offer the bug to Shera for a moment before an expression akin to recognition came over her face. “I’ll… put him back on the plant.” she murmured low.

Shera thought about her… disassociation spell from the previous day while staring up at the sky. They were in an enclosed clearing with tall trees all around them, the scent of pine sap wafting through the air. She watched birds pass overhead in the sky— they looked like robins, always in a flock. 

There was a large, dead tree near the edge of the forest. Its bark was stripped from its trunk, laden with woodpecker holes, cracked and splintered. It had a larger opening in it, showing that it was hollow inside. She wondered if a family of raccoons lived there. 

Turning her head to another part of the Kingswood, she felt that waft of breeze over her face again, just like yesterday. The same cream colored blur whizzed past her without any noise, merely the sensation of movement. She tried to follow its path, jolting up suddenly with alarming speed. 

She lost track of it. 

Putting a hand to her head, she groaned. She sat up way too fast, sending her brain into a tizzy. Glancing around, everyone else was gone— save for Aemond, who was staring at Shera. 

“Where did they go?” she asked, her mind suddenly off of the creature evading her vision and moreso focused on the fact that everyone was gone. 

“They left half an hour ago, Shera,” Aemond said, a brow raised. “They went to the creek.” 

“Oh.” Half an hour ago? 

“Helaena said you do this,” he continued. “Disassociating?” 

“It’s… new. I think.” she muttered, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

“You should go to a maester about that.” 

“Mm. And why are you still here?” she tried to ask politely, but it ended up coming out a bit harshly. 

“Well, I couldn’t very well leave you alone here while you were… occupied. That’d be depraved indifference.” he huffed.

“Depraved indifference? Like leaving a dog tied up outside in a storm?” she grumbled, digging a finger into the dirt. “Is it so hard for you to say you care about me?” she uttered suddenly, slightly mortified that it came out of her mouth without thinking. Well, I suppose the cat is out of the bag now. 

Aemond stared at her, the pupil of his eye waned to a slit. His jaw clenched and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t need to say it for it to be true,” he said. “Words mean nothing, they’re empty and meaningless. Actions are everything— keep that in mind.” 

“You write a lot for someone who says words are empty and meaningless,” she pressed, the flare of indignation broiling in her— something that only surfaced when talking to Aemond. 

“You misunderstand me, Shera,” he said her name like a blessing and a curse, his lip twitching again. “Someone can say all they like. That they care, that they will do something, that they will fix something— but their words are empty unless they actually do it.” 

Her eye drifted once more, seeing the cream blur dive into the forest. She didn’t know what came over her, her limbs spurring into action as she got up with a start, bolting after it. She heard Aemond’s garbled voice behind her as she ran through the forest, eye unable to focus on it, but she could see it. Glimpses of it, calling to her as it bobbed and weaved through the branches.

Shera, Shera. She heard the whispers of some unfamiliar being in the back of her mind like an itch, a buzz at the base of her skull. It was calling to her, pulling her to it. She lost her shoes somewhere along the way, bare feet traipsing on the ground, cutting into jagged rock and sharp branches.

Aemond’s voice was more urgent now, but she still couldn’t understand what he was saying. And she… she was outrunning him. She felt like a doe, agile and free and the pain of her feet, bleeding and punctured, didn’t even bother her. 

Come, come, little wolf! Come.

The dark of the forest let up into a wide expanse of blue sky, blue sky and the scent of the ocean… the blur was gone and all she felt was open air as she skidded off of the cliff. It was freeing, those splinters of wings bursting through her elytra, cracking and flitting. She treaded nothingness…

Then her wrist snapped, pulled right out of its socket as she was yanked back, her ears ringing as the adrenaline died down. The breeze of the sea stopped as she was enveloped in warmth, in fire. She glanced up– Aemond was staring down at her with a wide eye, hair sticking to his forehead with the sheen of sweat.

“What the… fuck, Shera?” he breathed, his chest heaving. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” 

“No– n… no,” she croaked in turn, her uninjured hand grasping into the leather of his doublet with such force that her knuckles were white, veins bulging against her skin. “The… it…” her tongue felt tied, throat dry as the pain of everything caught up to her at once. Her bleeding feet, her ballooning lungs that couldn’t catch enough oxygen, her dislocated wrist, hand aloft at an odd angle. 

Moongeist barked somewhere in the distance, howl echoing through the forest.

She did not remember much after that.

—

The next moon was quiet for Shera as she recovered from her outing. The maesters set her wrist back into place and set it taut with a sling. Her feet were bandaged and she was prescribed bed rest for at least a week. They tried to give her milk of the poppy, but she refused– she couldn’t stand how it made her head swim, swim more than it already did.

Cregan blamed Aemond, threatening to take Shera back to Winterfell until the wedding. Rhaenyra calmed him, citing that Shera wouldn’t go out of the keep without a more attentive chaperone.

Once she was mostly recovered, lunched with Helaena every day and watched Aemond spar with Criston every other morning– but she usually hid behind the ramparts to where he wouldn’t see her– she felt oddly shy about watching him. She hadn’t had any disassociation spells, nor saw anything of the mystery blur. However, she did have Ser Erryk Cargyll as her sworn sword, issued by Rhaenyra herself. 

She hated being followed, being observed under a lens like she was a child. Indignation broiled in her chest– but one eve, while passing Aemond in the hall, he didn’t say anything to her. They hadn’t spoken since the incident, where Shera was fairly sure that Aemond was convinced she tried to kill herself by jumping off the cliff– she wanted to explain that wasn’t the case, to explain everything she’d been experiencing. But he would think her mad. Surely.

She pulled herself out of the corset after, slipping into a more comfortable, loose fitting garment. Shera had sent away her maids and told them not to return until the morn. She didn’t wish to be fretted and pulled at like a sickly hen, feathers plucked before the slaughter.

Slowly, she untangled the veil from her hair and set it aside. Fingers gliding through her braids, she let her hair fall in curled tresses down her back, resting well past her bottom once it was all out. 

The last thing to come off was her leather choker— she placed it on her boudoir, the tips of her nails ghosting over the still prominent scar there. She abhorred looking in the mirror, seeing nothing but a banshee looking back. 

Even though she had retired to her chambers, she didn’t sleep. She found it hard to sleep most nights and ended up pacing. It was late in the night and most of the Keep were asleep, save for the occasional guard. She found it the perfect time to sneak out to the tunnels that crisscrossed throughout Maegor’s Holdfast. 

She wished to test and see if she truly remembered the path that led to the water gardens— which she hoped still sparkled just as wondrously under moonlight as they did before. 

Moongeist was curled up atop her bed, snoozing away. He worked so hard to guide Shera that she loathed to wake him, so she didn’t. She wasn’t completely hopeless without her wolf guide, but it could be teetering on the edge of stupidity, to wander the dimly lit secret corridors without her safety net. Stupidity that masked itself in bravery in her mind. 

Glancing back at her veil and choker, she left them behind as she descended into the tunnel— she would be out of sight, and wished to let herself breathe for once, uninhibited and unveiled. She pressed to the wall for balance, her nightgown fisted in one hand, the other committing the curve of the stone to her mind, for later. If her memory served her correctly, she should be passing the royal apartments and the other guest rooms.

The sound of hushed voices caught Shera’s attention. In hindsight, it is rude to eavesdrop upon conversations– but she couldn’t help herself. 

The somewhat familiar gruff sound of Daemon’s voice met her ears as they perked up, pressed against the wooden backing of a bookshelf that led to the tunnel from, what she could assume, was Rhaenyra and Daemon’s chamber.

“She won’t be beholden to us, Nyra,” Daemon’s voice whispered in an urgent, hushed tone. “She was raised under them, she has no reason to like us.”

“The North is a powerful ally we need on our side once the time comes, Daemon. Cregan is already beholden to us by the oath of his father,” she breathed, “This is merely another way to bring the Starks into the fold. I’d rather them be ready to defend us, Shera, at a moment’s notice.” 

“Beyond the allegiances, the betrothals, the treaties; she is hardly a worthy vessel of Valyrian seed. A baby with dragon’s blood would tear that soft bellied wolf apart. Even then, are we so sure she isn’t still… in favor of Alicent’s brood? You saw her with the two at the dinner.”

“You’re thinking too far ahead, Daemon. I suppose I do love your… farsightedness, but we must focus on nearsightedness. We will deal with the issues of the girl’s mettle after I’m on my throne,” Rhaenyra turned, a finger pressed to Daemon’s jaw, which was clenched in agitation. “You needn’t worry. If her constitution proves weak, she shan’t survive the court— and any trace of allegiance she might have to my half siblings shall be snuffed out swiftly when the time comes.”

Shera felt her sudden burst of confidence fester into bile rising from the back of her throat. Once the time comes? Her stomach churned– she knew that there had been tension between the two sides of the King’s family but she hadn’t expected such planning and cunning already, before the gauntlet had even been thrown down, before the King had even passed– 

And she was a part of that plan, apparently. Moreso a link to her brother’s allegiances and by extension, the North. 

The tunnel she was in suddenly felt very small, like the walls were closing in on her. Panic bubbled in her chest like frothing sea water, the undercurrent threatening to drag her out to the endless expanse, water filling her lungs until they burst.

Her bare feet stumbled as she continued forward, trying to recognize any of the exits from the labyrinth, but it seemed fruitless. Tears welled, stinging and blinding her even further. She wasn’t quite sure how long she had been lost for– but it felt like the better part of an hour before she finally pushed one opening forward, falling out onto the stone ground of another room in the holdfast.

Shera sniffed, her hair falling in front of her face like inky tendrils, clinging to her tear streaked face. Her knee was skinned from how hard she’d fallen, blood trickling down her skin and staining her nightgown. Glancing around, her vision was beyond fuzzy, her head spinning. 

Idiot, idiot. She chastised herself further, fists supplanted into the ground, her nail beds scraping against the unforgiving stone as she attempted to pull herself up. 

She hoped to every God, the old and the new, that the room wasn’t occupied.

“Alicent? Alicent… is that you?” 

Fuck.

Shera froze, the croaking voice directed at… her? It was like hearing the Stranger speak, whispering in her ear. Surely it was a figment of her imagination. 

“Ali-cent,” it spoke again, followed by a hacking cough and a drawn out moan. “My… my medicine— have… you brought it?”

Shaking her head, she ventured closer to the bed where the voice was coming from, a lone beeswax candle lit on the bedside. Some incense was also burning, an intense smell of concentrated herbs that was almost too much for even Shera— what was this? Finally reaching the bedside, she was in horror at what she saw. 

Was this… the King? 

He looked more corpse than human, cheeks sunken and teeth missing and blackened. His body mass was half of what it used to be— he… he was so small now, his labored breathing, moreso wheezing, wracking his body. His eye was missing. 

She held back the urge to vomit as she got closer, now knowing what the incense mask was for. He smelled terrible— complete of death and rot, as if his body was already withering and decaying. It was on par with the scent of a dead elk she and Moongeist had found a few years before while exploring just outside of Winterfell. Its body was bloated and stinking, maggots writhing from the orifices of its body. It was one of the most disgusting sights she’d ever seen— ‘twas tainted meat, as the ravens and foxes wouldn’t even touch it. 

The King— Viserys the Peaceful. He was no more a king presently, akin more to fodder for vultures. No, she didn’t think that vultures would taint themselves with his rotten flesh. 

She peered on. Viserys wasn’t much older than Daemon, was he? And… as much as she hated to admit it, Daemon was only just past his prime, mayhaps still even in it. But Viserys… looked aged to about eighty or ninety, his skin liver spotted and plagued with… some disease she couldn’t identify. His hair was all but gone, sticking to the skin of his skull in small patches, like a child’s doll that’d been mutilated.

“… y-your grace?” Shera whispered, unsure of what to do.

“A-ah, forgive… me… dearest, there is a glint upon… your eye.”

Yes, and you lack one, decrepit corpse. Shera resisted the urge to huff. 

“The… the vial—,”

“This one, your grace?” she murmured, seeing a small phial of liquid. She sniffed it, the overwhelming scent of milk of the poppy hitting her nostrils.

“Mm.”

She handed the medicine to him, watching him struggle to even lift his bony, gaunt hand. She brought the lip of it to his mouth, listening to him greedily drink it as if it were the most delicious of wines.

“Much… better, thank you,” he breathed, putting his hand back over his forehead. “Have… you thought much more upon… Rhaenyra’s proposal?”

“Her proposal, your grace?” Shera responded meekly. She still wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, where the king thought she was Queen Alicent. Her hands shook as she put the empty vial back on the nightstand.

“Helaena… and Jacaerys… ‘tis a fine match… it would… reunite our… the… the house of the dragon.” 

Gods, what year did he think it was?

“... I am still mulling it over, my king,” she responded, glancing around the room for any way out.

“And… have Otto… send a raven to Lord Stark…” he wheezed. “Propose a union… between your ward… and Aemond. The North… has stayed out of the… realm for far too long…”

Aemond? There were talks of a betrothal to Aemond? Her heart began to race, even though she knew that the king’s mind was at least twelve years in the past or more– the mere thought of… it could’ve been true, it could’ve happened– 

She bit her lip until blood welled to the surface. Everything could have been different.

Did Alicent refuse? Was there… even a raven sent? 

“Yes, your grace,” she sniffed, holding back tears. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Alicent.” 

[aphroditeinthesea]

hi !! could i request a annabeth chase x fem reader that’s really angsty, like im thinking that they’re close friends and annabeth is like sure that reader likes percy and so she bottles her feelings up until she can’t hold it anymore and its all hurt/comfort (i have been listening to ttpd too much lately)

“ a greater woman stays cool (but i howl like wolf at the moon) ”

annabeth chase x fem!reader 🦉

a/n kinda short

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆

When Y/N started hanging around more, Annabeth knew why. It was because of Percy. It had to be. Everyone since the dawn of time has had a crush on Perseus Jackson.

Why wouldn't they? He was handsome, charming, brave, funny, smart- that dumbass was everything someone could want. Most importantly, he was a boy.

When the mornings would come, Annabeth would never admit how she’d watch her friend as she would sit with her siblings at breakfast. The way she would laugh at something they’d say. She would throw her head back, letting her locks of hair fall out of her face, nearly catching the gray eyes in a stare. But Annabeth would quickly turn and fake a conversation.

It was more recently that Annabeth couldn't bare it. When the girl would come around when her and Percy were handing out, she would always find some excuse to leave. Or when she knew y/n would be somewhere, suddenly she was just "too busy." She knew she had to avoid y/n at all costs.

However, it was this day that she found y/n practicing with Percy that killed her. She couldn't look away from the way he had his arms around y/n, showing her how to balance her sword.

Her stomach flipped as the scene unfolded in front of her very eyes. His calloused hands over her smaller ones.

She soon locked eyes with Y/N, who softly smiled in return, “Annabeth!”

The blonde awkwardly waved before rushing off to her cabin. The two others were left confused, y/n speaking, “I’m gonna go check on her.” Percy nodded before she ran after Annabeth, awkwardly bumping into a few other campers on the way.

When she finally reached the Athena cabin, she was happy to find only a few of Annabeth’s siblings were there.

She stopped Malcolm as he began walking out the door, “have you seen Annabeth?’

“Yeah, she just ran into the bathroom,” he explained, pointing to the closed door.

“Thanks,” she waved as he left. She made her way to the white door and softly knocked, “Annabeth, it’s y/n,” she prefaced, “are you okay? I just wanted to check on you.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Annabeth was staring at her puffy red eyes in the mirror, “one second,” she called, wiping her eyes and fanning herself to look normal.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“I’m fine,” she choked out.

“No, you're… I’m coming in,” y/n responded, turning the doorknob.

Annabeth panicked, trying to get to the door before it opened. But alas, y/n opened the door, finding the mess of the blonde, standing in front of her.

“Beth-”

“Ugh,” Annabeth covered her face with her tissue filled fists, “it’s stupid, it's so stupid.” She stepped back, eventually sitting on top of the closed toilet.

“What happened?” Y/N kneeled at her, “did I do something?”

“No, gods, it’s not your fault.”

She placed her hand on Annabeth’s knee, “are you sure? Because you keep acting weird whenever I’m around you and Percy, was it because of him and I training- oh.”

The blonde nervously looked at the girl on the ground, beginning to lean back. She knew. She had to. She figured her all out.

“You have a crush on Percy, don’t you?”

Nevermind.

“Oh my gods,” she leaned back. “No, no I don't have a crush on Percy.”

“Oh?”

She took a deep breath, “I don't have a crush on Percy, and I’m not mad at you. I just,” she swallowed, “you two training did bother me, but…”

“What?”

“It’s because of you, not Percy,” she snapped.

Y/N tilted her head, standing up, “what?”

“Look,” she stood up as well, walking past the other girl, “I know you have a crush on Percy-”

“Ew, no I don't.”

Annabeth stood still, looking at y/n, “yes you do?”

She laughed, “gods, no, I don’t.”

“You guys are just friends?”

She nodded, “of course, I couldn't have a crush on him.”

“Why not?”

“Same reason you don’t.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

Annabeth leaned against the wall, “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you're not,” y/n stood next to her, “you're wise.”

Annabeth just laughed, “shut up,” she nagged the girl in return.

“You shut up,” y/n nudged her back.

“Shut up.”

“Shut-” with that, Annabeth held her face in her hands to pull her into a kiss.

As they pulled away, y/n spoke again, “okay, I’ll shut up.”

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

7. Domestic Dinner Dates

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence. From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen

I fix my shirt in the mirror. A knowing smile on my lips. “You look nice Daddy.” Janey catches my attention from the open doorway. Tomorrow we planned on discussing the future with Janey. She was a smart girl. She had noticed a shift in the dynamic of the house. She never once picked a side. She was pure of heart and full of joy. I kiss her forehead as I exit. “Thank you, sweetheart.” She follows on my heels. “Where are you going?” I look over my shoulder with a grin. “I'm having dinner with a friend. I wish I could stay honey pie. I heard your moms making your favorite tonight.” I stand at the door, grabbing the keys off the table.

Barb walks out of the kitchen, Pip-Boy on, files in hand, and a pep in her step. “Actually,” she starts with a simple smile, “I’ve got a meeting, and it was so short notice I couldn't find a sitter. Janey can tag along with you to dinner with your… friend. Can’t she?” I stare at her in disbelief. No doubt this was a planned move. She’s so particular in scheduling. There was no way she didn’t know at least days in advance.

I chew on the inside of my cheek. Would (y/n) feel overwhelmed? Fuck I’m sure. This JUST started and here I go tossing her into the fire. Barb sure as hell knew of my plans.

Janey smiles and jumps in excitement. “Yeah, Daddy, can I?” Barb smiles with evil eyes; an innocent mask. I scoop Janey up in my arms, “Of course you can!” I exit the house with my daughter in tow. I drive over to her house hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

“Who are we going to dinner with, Daddy?” Janey asks as she watches the passing cars and trees. “You remember that singer you like? I took you to see her a while back.” Janey gasps loudly, “(y/n)? Yes! Is she nice? Will she like me? Can I sing with her?” I laugh at her various questions. “I’m sure she’s going to love you, Janey.”

~

Three solid knocks on the door notify me of Cooper's arrival. I stand from my spot on the couch, straightening my outfit to perfection. My nerves were shot, and my hands were fumbling with the door knob. I opened it to see him, I couldn’t help but smile. Dashing in a dress shirt and coat. The fall air is crisp in the evening. “Hi,” in a daze I exit the house and lean into him. He distanced himself, glancing back to his vehicle. I feel the clenching in my chest. Was he not here to pick me up? Is Barb in the car? Was this a setup? "Cooper? What's wrong?"

"There's been a slight change of plans." I stare at him with wide eyes, my hands beginning to shake. "Oh?" He nods back to the car, "Janey is tagging along." My nerves ease slightly. "Your daughter?" Why on earth would she be coming? Wouldn't Barb flip if she knew? I'm sure she's told Janey what she thinks of me. Cooper nods with a sigh, "If you want to reschedule or, just cancel, I understand." I look at him in confusion, "Now, why on earth would I cancel just because you had Janey? I've been wanting to meet her forever now." He shrugs, a shy smile creeping its way to his lips. "Well, I don't know. I didn't want you to feel overwhelmed. She's a real good kid." I grab his hand and tug him down the driveway. "Then we better not keep her waiting."

I enter the car with a smile. "Hi! I'm Janey!" She beams as she clings to the back of my seat. "Hello Janey. My name is (y/n). I've heard so much about you." She gasps and smiles at Cooper. "Really? I've heard so much about you too! My dad loves to talk about you." I blush as she reveals his secrets. "He says your hair smells like apple pie." She giggles causing Cooper to shake his head. "Okay, that's enough out of you."

We arrived at the restaurant, ate, and left with no issue. I enjoyed it with Janey even more than I would've just Cooper and I. She was the sweetest little girl. So full of wonder and light. She skips down the sidewalk singing a song. We stroll up to the theater. An idea sparks in my head. "Janey! Do you want to see something cool?" She stops mid-skip and turns on her heels. "Yeah!"

I peel myself from Cooper's side and dig in my purse for my keys. "What are you doing?" Cooper asks from behind. I insert the key into the lock with a grin. "We're going to show Janey what it's like to be on the big stage." I open the large door to the theater. Darkness enveloped the building until I flicked the switch. One by one the rows of light lit up each row before lighting up the large stage, the red velvet curtain hanging with grace. "Whoa!" Janey gasps as she runs down the empty aisle. Cooper watches her with a grin, a proud smile on his face. He races after her, helping her onto the stage and spinning her around. He cared for her deeply. I could only feel my heart swell for him more.

We sang, danced, and laughed together. It felt natural as if the universe brought us all together for the pure reason of making each other happy. As Cooper pulls up into my driveway I feel my chest clench. I didn't want this night to end. I bring my head up from resting on his shoulder and frown at him. "I wish you could stay," I whisper to him lowly. He parks the car and meets my gaze. The longing look in his eyes begging to be released. He looks back to Janey, who is happily admiring the large house. "It is getting a little late." I nod in agreement. His smile growing. "And it's almost an hour and a half drive back to your house." Cooper looks at Janey once more. "Janey, what do you say we stay here with (y/n) tonight and hit the road in the morning." She shrugs with a simple grin. "Okay." This child was too easy.

Janey wanted the grand tour, and so she received the tour. She even recorded a short original song in the recording studio. It wasn't too long before she was yawing, silently begging for a bed to rest. Cooper settled her in the guest bedroom and in the meantime I rolled a small joint, prepping for tomorrow. I licked the paper and rolled it up nicely. "And what are you doing, darlin'?" Cooper asks as he walks down the steps. He walks around like he owns the place, clearly comfortable in my home. The thought made me smile. I wave the small joint. "Just rolling. Don't worry, I'm putting it up." He shrugs, taking the seat next to me. "Well, now hold on a second." I look at him in disbelief. "No way." "I was young once too." I grab his face, pecking his lips. "You're still young, Cooper." He rolls his eyes and grabs the joint out of my fingers. "You turn 40 and then come talk to me, sweetheart."

Back and forth, back and forth, again and again, Cooper and I smoked the joint until it was almost gone. I followed his hand as it moved closer, “Want another toke, sweetheart?” My eyes move up to his, a smirk growing. I wasn't a lightweight, but Cooper was a drug that made me high all in itself.

I took the joint from his fingers and took another, longer than necessary drag. I hold it in as I hand the joint back of the red eyes squinted, Cooper smiles at me like a teenager. He watches every inch of my face with intent. He runs his index finger down my cheek. "I love you." Those three words are more addictive than anything on earth. I nuzzle into his hand. "I love you, Cooper." I kiss down his palm, the deeper I go the lighter I feel.

“You know,” I begin, keeping my eyes fixated on him. "We could always… go to bed." He raised his brow, "Go to bed?" I stand from the couch, running my finger over the pearls around my neck. "Don't you want to take me to bed, Cooper?" He bites the inside of his cheek, "I think I do."

He picked me up with ease, attaching our lips in a heated passion. He maneuvers the staircase and the hallway with ease, entering my bedroom and tossing me down on the plush sheets. He lays down, hands on my hips.

Confidence soars when I'm high, and I wanted Cooper since the second I opened my front door. "I want you so bad," I breathe out into his neck, grasping at the collar of his shirt. He smirks, “What are you waiting for then, sweetheart?”

I crawl over him, my legs moving to straddle his waist. I bite my lip as you look down at him, eyes burning with desire. He brings a hand up, gently laying it on my cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”

I lay a hand on his cheek, smiling as you lean down, “I love you, Cooper.” I press my lips to his, sliding my hands down his shirt, unbuttoning his shirt one by one. His hands grip my hips as I continue to undo his shirt until it is open. I begin to run my hands over his bare chest. He leans back, “I love you.”

He pushes my hips and I dig my nails into his skin as I grind down onto his throbbing length. I whimper, “I need you.” He smiles against my lips and strokes my hips with his thumbs, “In good time, baby. Just relax, okay? Let me take care of you.” Cooper lays me down on the bed, his body over mine. My legs hook around his waist. He leans his head down to kiss my neck. I let out a moan as he sucks a deep purple mark into my skin.

He kisses up to my lips and slides his hands up under my dress. His hands found my breasts. He massages them with a groan, digging his crotch into my clothes core. I arch my back, eyes rolling closed as his fingers pinch and pull at my nipples, “I want to take it slow. Okay, baby?”

I open my eyes, moaning as he continues to slowly roll my nipples between his fingers, “F-fuck, Coop.” I slide a hand around to press it to his cheek, “Go as slow as you want baby.” You smirk, “But, next time You should throw me around a little.” His length hardened more just from the words spoken.

“Goddamn, I love you.” His lips crash onto mine again and he pushes his hips deeper. “I'm going to take these off. Okay, honey?” I nod, moving my hips to assist him as he slides my panties off. He tosses them to the floor, caressing my legs slowly, kissing up to my knees, and down my thighs.

He brings his fingers to his lips, collecting a little spit before he drops his hand down to my needy cunt. I let out a breathy moan, my head already buzzing from the high. I look up at him, biting down on my lip as I feel him push two fingers into my cunt. I gasp and slide my hand to the back of his head. I toss my head back, "Cooper," I whine, "Please don't tease." I could feel the smirk against my lips. He traces my tongue, before removing his fingers.  

He replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, pushing into my flower. I grip the sheets, eyes closing as I feel my walls stretching around him, “Fuck, Cooper, you feel so good.” I look up at him, face twisting with pleasure as he pulls out and pushes back in.

He leans down, hips rolling slowly into mine, “You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.” I arch my back, clenching around him as he swallows my moans, “I’m gonna cum if you keep squeezing my cock like that.”

Running a hand through his hair, I bite his neck, suckling his skin in several places. “You fuck me so good.” His eyes search mine as a smirk grows on his face, “I love when you say that shit to me.” I tighten my legs around his waist as I gasp, “fuck,” I squeeze his cock, my orgasm tearing right through me. I cry out, coving my mouth with my hand, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’ts-“ “Fuck, (y/n).” He groans as he fights his grips on my hips, “Come on, pretty girl.” He kisses my lips and leans up, “I want to feel it. Come for me, baby” I let out a moan and tightened my grip around him, moaning out his name over and over again.

Cooper manages to keep his thrusts steady enough to guide me through my high before his cock quickly vacates. He reaches down, stroking his cock while I plant gentle kisses on his face. I feel his hot cum spill out into my pelvis. He rolls over with a groan and a ghost of a smile. He lays still for a solid minute before I nudge him with my foot. I couldn't help but giggle, "Coop, honey, I love you. You think you can get me a towel?" His head pops up with a light grin. "Oh, shit, yeah." He scurries off to my bathroom, returning with a hand towel. Cooper cleans up his mess with delight.

He leans in and pecks my lips, “I love you.” I smile, returning the gesture “I love you too.” I kiss his face several places making him grin, “I’m going to go get us a snack, do you wanna roll us another one?” I look at him wide-eyed. "Cooper Howard. The pot smoker. What would your fans say?" He shrugs, tugging his pants back on. "A man can live a little." He leans forward with a smile, “So you want anything special?” His hand resting on my cheek with a dopey grin. I shake my head, “Just you, so hurry back."

[wardenparker]

The Date

Marcus Moreno x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Inspired by the already beloved Teacher Ben sketch from Pedro’s SNL appearance, this fic is dedicated to every single reader with a HUGE hug and a kiss straight from me to you. Just over about two weeks ago I passed the 2k follower mark and I am so incredibly humbled by everyone’s love and encouragement. Writing makes me happier than almost anything else in the world and I am blown away by the sheer number of you who stop by my little corner of the tumblrsphere to read the words that I produce along with my beloved @absurdthirst​. There is absolutely no end to our collaborations in sight and I am thrilled to keep rolling out fun stories week after week 🧡

Rating: Explicit! 18+  Word Count: 19.9k Warnings: Age gap (reader is an adult student of unspecified age), mentions of deceased spouse, awkward flirting, reader is bad with social cues, Marcus on a Motorcycle, using superpowers for foreplay, begging, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex (superhero stamina).  Summary: After spending the semester becoming friends with your criminal justice professor, retired Heroic Marcus Moreno, it appears that your crush isn’t so unrequited after all. Notes: I was very sleepy doing this edit, so I’m sorry if I missed some things.

Sometimes you really do sit through classes waiting for a cartoonish sounding bell to ring and it’s just too bad. The general education classes that you have to take really aren’t your cup of tea, even though you know you need them for your degree and really should be paying attention. But you’re not going to need chemistry when you restart your career as a high school English teacher. Nor are you going to need the complex algebra and trigonometry that stumped you the first time you went to college. And you’re probably not going to need to understand the intricacies of the criminal justice system either - but this class was a little gift to yourself. 

The hottest professor you could have ever dreamt of in a three-times-a-week lecture that frequently includes anecdotes from his legendary career as the leader of the Heroics. Since the first day of this class it’s been like a real life version of the Indiana Jones scene where undergrads have love notes written on their eyelids and leave him gifts and notes hoping for a smidgen of extra attention, and you can’t really blame them. The thing is, the poor kids don’t stand a chance. He has a daughter nearly their age and couldn’t ever shake the feeling of how young they are. Or at least that’s what he told you the first time you sat together in the student union to eating lunch together after class. Marcus is sweet. He’s charming and maybe a little insecure socially, but when he stands up in front of the class he commands attention at the drop of a hat. He’s incredibly smart - genius, even - and he doesn’t make friends easily. That’s what he told you the fourth time you had lunch together in the student union after his class was over. Which is why you’ve kept your own crush a very tightly wrapped secret for the entire semester. You’re friends now, or at least very good acquaintances, and you wouldn’t jeopardize that for the world.

But next week is the final, and once that’s over you’ll have no excuse to sit and talk about your favourite books or how crazy his daughter is driving him now that she’s fifteen and learning to drive. Last week Missy had used the word girlfriend to refer to a girl in her friend group for the very first time and Marcus had nearly hyperventilated telling you about it. You’re friends. Loose ones, at least. And if you don’t screw up your courage and say something by next week, it might all go away. And you think you might regret that even more than not graduating college The first time you went, many years ago.

Marcus sighs as he flips the tie over his hand and pulls the knot through. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror as he does. Why he still wears a tie, he hasn’t quite worked out, but it’s a part of his routine and made him feel a bit more like the uniform he had worn for most of his life. If you called black jeans, a tac vest and double swords a uniform. Pushing the knot up to tighten it, he glances at the clock on his nightstand and curses. “Shit.” He had promised to grab you a coffee on the way into class and he doesn’t want to fuck that up. “Get moving, Moreno.”

The city buses are remarkably punctual today, getting you to campus twenty minutes before class instead of leaving you scrambling with just a few minutes to spare, and you take your time walking to the history building where his class is held. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you get to see Professor Moreno today. It’s going to be a good day. Whether it’s a brave day is still up for debate.

Marcus has a habit of frowning as he thinks. Shuffling papers on his desk as he mentally files through the itinerary for the day as he sips on the coffee he had gotten for himself. The other one on his desk was the triple shot, two pumps vanilla, one pump one chocolate, one pump raspberry latte that you had sworn was your favorite drink at the coffee shop he always stopped by. The fact that he ordered the same thing for himself to try was not going to be mentioned, but it was good.

“Morning.” Being a commuter is a boon today. There are no other students in the classroom when you open the door, and the man you only call Marcus in private is already sitting at his desk pouring over papers. The soft green tie matches the color in his plaid shirt and you smile reflexively. He’s so stunningly handsome, especially like this.

“Morning.” Immediately, Marcus looks up from his notes, standing up right after that as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. Being a fucking idiot is what he’s being, but at least he resists rolling his eyes at himself. “I see you’re early. Wanting that coffee Huh?” He asks, grinning slightly as he pushes the extra cup towards you.

“The bus was on time today.” The way he always seems to get flustered when he’s interrupted is adorable and you bite your lip to hold back a grin. “You really didn’t have to get my drink for me…but I appreciate it.” Your friendship has been built over a semester of these small gestures, and to say you didn’t love them would be an absolute lie.

“Caffeine is medically necessary.” Marcus jokes, picking up his own cup and taking another sip. It really is good, and he’s surprised by that considering he normally just drinks coffee black.

“It’s true.” Stepping further into the room, you pull one of the chairs away from the long tables that serve as desks and set it beside his desk at the front of the room to sit with him for a few minutes. “So…” The grin you flash him is teasing, but you are probably only going to get a few more times like this with him so you want to make the most of them. “How’s Missy and her girlfriend?”

Marcus shakes his head and winces. “I’m not okay with her dating.” He huffs, nearly pouting at the idea. “She was born like six months ago.”

“I just think it’s incredible that she came out to you so easily.” According to Marcus, he had come home from a day of teaching about a year ago to find Missy icing cupcakes with rainbow frosting as her own way of breaching the topic. It had been an immensely emotional night for them both. “Teenagers get rebellious over practically everything. It’s fantastic that she trusts you enough to tell you who she is and to tell you about this girl.”

“She knows I’m not going to change the way I look at her.” Marcus shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “She’s my little girl, and if I’m honest, there were signs since she was little.”

“That’s my point though.” You reason, picking up your coffee and humming at the taste. “She knows you love her no matter what. If I had come out to my parents at that age? I would have been lucky not to end up in therapy.”

“Oh, yeah, no, nothing like that at all.” It’s funny how swiftly the little arrow of intrigue or hope quickly pierced his heart. The small crush he had developed on you over the course of the class - despite the impropriety if it - crashing down. “I’m sorry you didn’t have supportive parents like that.”

“It’s fine now.” The way his face changes makes you want to scramble to recover, unsure of what you could possibly have said to upset him when you meant to pay him a compliment. “Being bisexual wasn’t even on their radar back then. They had no idea the word even existed let alone that it applied to their little girl.” You shrug, afraid you’ve offended him by accident. “I might as well have told them I was a Martian.”

Bisexual. While Marcus doesn’t sag in relief of the clarification, the angsty guilt over inappropriate thoughts of someone who would not be interested in a man ease. “It worked for Clark Kent, right? Though he was Krytonian.” He says, sending you a small smile. “No weirder than ‘hey mom, I can manipulate metal’. Right?”

“Honestly I think that would have been easier for her.” When you shrug again, you bury your face behind your coffee cup and studiously command yourself not to get too dreamy over that smile of his. “I just…you’re doing a great job. That’s all. Don’t downplay the fact that your teenage daughter is comfortable and confident in telling you who she is.”

“I never want her to feel like she can’t come to me for anything. Even if it was a boy and…birth control.” Marcus isn’t dumb, he knows what teenagers do, he was one of them once. Despite his Heroic future, hormones did drive a lot of his actions when he was around her age.

That earns him another small laugh from you, and you lean back in your chair. “Well I say points to this girl. If Missy’s anything like her dad then she’s amazing. And that means this girl is lucky as hell.”

He shuffles slightly, trying not to take the compliment for more than what it is. Reassurance. He lifts his coffee cup to his lips again to hide the grin he can’t quite suppress. “Thanks.” He murmurs. “Although it’s been a long time for me.”

“Oh?” It’s not as though you had dug through any of the gossip about him. That would have been disrespectful. But he was a well known celebrity when his wife passed away a few years ago and he had only stopped wearing his ring recently, by the band of untanned skin on his left finger. You had never pried for information, but you’re definitely curious.

He gives a small shrug of his shoulders. The pain of losing his late wife is still there, it always will be, but it’s not as devastating as it had been in the beginning. He would always love her, but he’s still living and she’s gone. “Not since Emily.” He confirms quietly. “Avoided the entire ‘widower pity sex’ that was surprisingly being pushed on me a lot more than I ever imagined.”

“I’m sorry things were pushed on you.” It’s not necessarily for you to apologize, but you can certainly express sympathy. “Being ready to put yourselves out there isn’t something you can rush. It takes time to heal.” Which is part of why you’ve kept your feelings deeply, deeply under wraps.

“A lot of it was because I needed time to heal, I didn’t want to change Missy’s life more than it already had been, and we were navigating our grief together.” Marcus had talked about a lot of this with his therapist, but it’s nice to have someone like you he can also talk to. “Plus, I was leaving the Heroics and starting to teach.”

“Your whole life changed.” You nod slightly, head bobbing with the motion. “When it changes again should be up to you and no one else.”

“Might be time.” Marcus admits, trying not to show how much that terrifies him. “Spend more time at home alone than I do with Missy. It’s…highlighted how reclusive I’ve become.”

"Might be?" You honestly would be embarrassed if he could hear how hard that makes your heart beat. It's not like he's talking about you, but you can't help the way it makes you feel.

“I’ve….thought about dating again.” He looks around the classroom for a moment before he finally looks at you again. “Think it’s a dumb idea?” He asks softly, feeling his heart pounding in his chest. His hands are starting to dampen and he quickly slides them against his darker pants.

"Why would that be dumb?" It's baffling that he would even ask that, since he's easily the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life and an absolute angel of a human. "You deserve to be happy. Whatever that means for you. If dating against would make you happy, then..." Then you will dutifully sit and listen to him gush about whoever the luckiest woman in the world is, if he wants to stay friends. "Then whoever you choose will be incredibly lucky."

That buoys his confidence and he nods before he looks back down at his papers. “So-“

“Hey Professor Moreno!” His head snaps up to see one of the other students from your class practically bounce through the door, filled with nervous, flirty energy. He’s well aware that the girl had a crush on him and while he was flattered, she was vastly too young for him.

“Monica.” He greets her, making her beam as she slides over towards his desk. His eyes meet yours and he swears that he sees disappointment at being interrupted swimming in your orbs.

Right before the door opened you could have sworn he was going to say something to you - maybe even something sweet or flirtatious if your wildest dreams ever came true. But Monica is...determined...and she is right about to stare you down. "I should let you focus," you murmur, standing up with your coffee in one hand and your other on the back of your chair.

“You’re okay.” Marcus insists, actually more comfortable with you here rather than talking to Monica by herself. It was bad enough when she showed up for office hours. “What do you need?” He asks her, shifting into a more professional demeanor than he had with you.

"I was hoping to speak to you privately." Monica casts you a derisive glance and shifts her weight between her feet. "That's why I came early."

“Is it…about the coursework?” Marcus asks carefully. He doesn’t like the social aspect that some of the younger students try to draw him into.

"It is regarding senior week." Smoothing one hand down her front, Monica squares her shoulders and fairly glares at you. "I didn't think it would be appropriate to rub it in my classmate's face that she isn't graduating yet."

“It's fine." Even though you have no idea what you did to make Monica dislike you, you're not about to cause a fuss on the second-to-last day you might get to see Marcus. There's no room in your schedule next year to take one of his other classes and taking more criminal justice classes doesn't make any sense with your major anyway. You step back, taking your chair with you, to go put your books down at the table a few feet away.

“What can I help you with?” Marcus crosses his arms over his chest and frowns slightly. He doesn’t understand the animosity that seemingly rolls off of the younger girl towards you. It doesn’t make sense.

"As you know." Monica perks up immediately, feeling victorious at your retreat and Professor Moreno's attention being squarely on her. "Senior week always includes guests of honour from the staff and faculty." What she hopes he doesn't know is that the staff and faculty guests have already been chosen for the dinner dance. Otherwise her cover will be blown. "It would be very exciting if you would agree to come to the senior week dinner dance as a special guest." As her special guest, specifically, but Monica doesn't word it like that.

“Oh.” Marcus shuffles slightly and rocks on his heels as he looks around the classroom as he thinks about how to let this girl down. “While I am flattered…I am not able to attend.” He explains. “I am due to take my daughter to her grandparents across the state that night.”

"And it would be impossible to bring her earlier?" With a lack of understanding and empathy so obviously on display, Monica all but pouts. "It will be such a special night."

“I’m sure it will be.” Marcus frowns and his tone turns slightly frosty. “But my daughter will be getting out of school and wanting to see her mother’s parents.”

The young woman huffs, immaturity fully on display, and puts her hand on her hip like she's about to transform into a version of herself twenty years in the future that would be demanding to see his manager. "Whatever," she scoffs. "You have no idea what you'll be missing."

Marcus rocks his jaw, instantly transforming into the leader of the Heroics when he had dealt with the most stubborn of the other superhero’s. “Miss Anderson, I suggest you take your seat unless you wish to be dropped from the class.” He manages tightly. “Which will affect your own graduation date.”

The hmmphf from her is as pronounced as the pouty frown on her face, but Monica spins around, throwing you a dirty look in the process as she storms across the classroom to sit down and probably not pay much attention during this last study session Marcus will be leading.

Sighing softly, Marcus look down at the papers in front of him. Why couldn't someone just accept that a man who was old enough to be her father wasn't interested gracefully? He doesn't understand it.

His mood seems sour for the entire study session, and it’s not that you can’t understand why. Monica and the undergrad girls didn’t know how to take no for an answer, apparently. You do - at least you expect it - so you’ve just never asked the question. By the end of class you have to assume that his nerves are frayed and he won’t have the presence of mind for your usual lunch together, so you just start to pack up.

Once the class is over, Marcus looks over at you. Frowning slightly when he sees you move towards the door, he calls your name quickly. Unsure if you've changed your mind about walking to lunch together or if something has come up.

The last group of your classmates blows past you when you freeze three feet from the doorway and turn back. “I didn’t know if you’d be up to lunch,” you admit, feeling a little sheepish about it. “You seem preoccupied. I didn’t want to presume.”

"No, uh, I'm sorry." He deflates slightly and sighs. "I just- Monica." He gestures toward the door as if that explains it. "I don't understand. I'm too old for her."

“It’s a fantasy.” The way you shrug your shoulders is completely tense, like you have no intention whatsoever in admitting that you’ve had those same fantasies about him yourself. “They don’t see the reality of it. Only the glossy story they’ll tell their friends.”

"I guess." He won't deny that he had crushes on teachers and professors when he was younger, but he had never been so bold to think they would want him. "I just- I guess I think too much like a dad." He huffs at himself. "She's not that much older than Missy."

"I think that's thinking like a dad just the right amount." The door shuts behind the rest of your class and you shove your hands in your pockets with your bag high on your shoulder. "What did she...ask you? If you don't mind me asking?"

“She wanted me to go to the dinner dance as a special guest.” He picks up his own bag and tosses it on his shoulders. “Didn’t take the very polite ‘no’ very well.” He snorts. “She actually asked me if I could drop my daughter off at her grandparents another day.”

"That's...awkward." When you reach for the door handle this time it's to open it for him rather than to beat a hasty exit, and you follow him out the door. "And honestly, a little disrespectful."

“She doesn’t have to know that her grandparents live two hours away.” Marcus grins slyly, and shrugs.

"She shouldn't have been rude." The walk down the corridor is fairly quiet since the next class period has already started in this building, and you walk side-by-side with your professor one more time. "It was nice of you to try to let her down easy, even if she didn't let you, ultimately."

“I get having feelings you shouldn’t.” Marcus risks looking over at you for a second before he looks back down at the path in front of you. “For people you shouldn’t.”

“How so?” If you had seen him glance at you then you might have had some idea of what he meant, but you were busy trying not to trip over the obvious coffee spill left by a previous student.

Marcus sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets as he ignores the looks from the students as the two of you walk through the campus. He doesn’t see a lot of the adoration that seems to be thrown his way. “She’s…it’s not like a younger student or anything. Not like Monica.”

“Oh? Oh! You’ve been—?” You can’t help the way your whole face falls, registering that apparently he’s been seeing another student and you didn’t ever know. As fast as your silly schoolgirl crush has grown over the course of the semester, you can feel it being stamped out with every new step you take down the corridor together. “Well, she’s…she’s very lucky…” You choke out, shoving your hands into your pockets with determination.

“No! No, I haven’t - I can’t, it’s not—” Marcus groans. “She’s my student, I haven’t thought it was…appropriate to ask her out.” He rolls his eyes at himself, wondering where were those fucking balls of steel he had to have when saving the world when he needs them now. “I- it would have been wrong, right? But I have been thinking about it.”

“I mean…I guess it depends?” Even though it crushes your heart more than a little to debate this with him, he’s your friend and…and ultimately you want him to be happy. And some people might argue that that is a blaring siren for having feelings, but that’s a moot point now. “It’s the end of the semester, so…theoretically I guess it would depend on the relationship you have with this girl outside of…ya know…the classroom.”

"I think we're pretty good." Marcus inhales softly. "We've spent some time together, a lot less than I'd like, but I guess I don't know what she thinks about it."

“Then you should probably ask her.” And tonight, when you go home to pour yourself a glass of wine for studying, you’ll use your really big wine glass to mourn the passing of the chance you never got. “You can’t know unless you ask.”

"Yeah....." Fundamentally, Marcus knows that. And it's not like you are giving much away with your answers so he can't even use that to judge how you would react. "I need to, but I'm also worried about it changing things for the worse."

“I can’t see anyone turning you down,” you admit, feeling your voice drop a little and your shoulders slump. If you were brave enough to take your own advice, then you wouldn’t be walking at his side listening to him theorize about asking out another woman.

“So…..how do you feel about driving up the coast?” Marcus ventures softly. “Thought we could take a little ride, find a nice roadside spot to eat? Look out over the water.”

It takes you a long moment to register what he’s saying, but when you finally do, your head ticks up and you freeze in your steps, doing your best not to stare while you try to remember how to speak. “Wait, I— me?” You ask, so bewildered that your voice jumps and you’re pointing at your own chest. “You meant me?”

“Shit, I knew this was going to happen. You don’t- it’s okay.” Marcus quickly reassures you. “You don’t have to, I - it won’t affect your grade, they are done anyway. I- just forget I said anything, okay?”

“No! N-no, I meant— I didn’t realize you liked me, too.” And if you could bury your head in the ground in embarrassment right now, you absolutely would. “Please, you don’t…don’t take it back? I’d love to go.”

“Are you sure?” Both you and Marcus have stopped walking and he turns towards you. “I don’t- you don’t have to, I just- I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, and….” He blows out a huff of laughter. “I’d like to get to know you more now that you aren’t my student.”

“I’m really sure.” If it were possible to show him exactly how much without seeming overeager - or worse, desperate - you absolutely would, but right now you’re just smiling so hard you feel like your face might split. “I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you too, and I…” Flustered, you end up laughing at the way the two of you stammer out insistences and reassurances, and you just nod. “Why don’t we say next weekend? Final will be over and I’ll officially no longer be your student in any way.”

“Missy will be with her grandparents.” Marcus nods. “And I’ll officially not be your professor. So there’s nothing improper about it anymore.”

“I don’t even think you’re capable of being improper.” The little tease makes you grin, knowing that you might have said it before but now it’s flirting.

Marcus flushes slightly, aware that some of his thoughts were far from proper. “You’d be surprised.” He huffs, both of you starting to walk towards the food court again.

“Oh yeah?” It seems so improbable, and you laugh softly while you walk. “Are you telling me the world’s most wholesome retired superhero has a rebellious side?”

Marcus snorts, “well, Emily was about three months pregnant with Missy when we got married…” He offers in way of proof. “And despite my mama’s objections, I still have my motorcycle.”

“So you’re telling me that you’re the one who has been Clark Kent-ing this whole time?” You raise an intrigued eyebrow at him as you walk, but keep your hand stuffed firmly in your pocket so you don’t do something stupid like reach for him out of excitement. “The real Marcus is wandering hands and engine grease?” Oh god…both versions sound amazing…

Marcus smirks at the comparison and there might be a slight air of cockiness to his shrug. “There’s a difference between the public image and the private man, let’s just say that.” He offers. This is why he’s enjoyed your company, he loves being able to talk to you. No expeditions, no judgment. It’s vastly different from a lot of his other interactions with people and he loves it.

"Color me intrigued." And honestly a little turned on, but you'll keep that to yourself for now. The dining hall is just up ahead and it's just beginning to be busy, as people like you and Marcus who are filing out of your midmorning classes are lured in by the smell of lunch.

“Is that a good intrigued or have 9-1-1 on speed dial intrigued?” Marcus jokes, lunging forward to open the door for you when you both get close enough.

You knew he would get the door. He always does. In fact, he glared at you when you had tried to do it yourself a few weeks ago - as though you should certainly know better by now. “I don’t know,” you admit with a shrug. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle before. It could be fun. Or it might be terrifying.”

“Wellllllll, that was kinda the plan, if you want.” Marcus admits, a slightly boyish grin on his face. “Have you wrap your arms around me and hang on while we ride.”

“No dress. Got it.” Wrap your arms around him and hang on? Apparently when this man flirts he has the ability to make you weak in the knees and nearly pout with just a few sentences. “I have a very definite feeling that I’m going to like motorcycles.”

Marcus can’t help the slightly dirty way his grin turns. “Better than a washing machine.” He hums.

“Marcus!” The scandalized laugh that makes it out of you is practically giddy to see this side of him and you stick close to his side once you’re in the bustling main dining hall. “Maybe I do want to wear a dress, in that case.”

Marcus chuckles and looks over the options for the day and then at you. “What are you feeling today?” He asks. “They have that grilled chicken salad you like.”

“And they have gyro today,” you point up at the menu and offer him a shy smile, Realizing for the first time how much he’s really absorbed about you personally over the course of the semester. “Just try telling me that’s not your favorite. I dare you to lie.”

“Only because you start singing that song every time I sit down with it.” Marcus huffs, flushing slightly.

“‘Holding Out for a Gyro’ is the best parody song ever written.” You shrug your shoulders proudly. “Sorry, Weird Al. I win this one.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “And it’s funny every time I hear it.” He enjoyed the playful banter between the two of you. “If it’s aided by a delicious meal? That makes it even better.”

“Then I think we’ve got to do it.” He’s so relaxed now, and you wonder how many times when you were in line like this or sitting with coffee, did he feel the tension of attraction the same way you did? It’s a relief to know it wasn’t one sided after all. “For old time’s sake.”

“Absolutely.” Marcus shoots you a smirk, and nods towards your line. “Meet you at the table we normally have?” It’s not an assigned table, but the corner table is rarely occupied when you have lunch together.

"Absolutely." To have anything be both of yours sends a shiver of excitement through you and you try not to giggle or anything similarly giddy. "I'll see you in a few minutes."

Making his way over to the correct station, he can’t help but seek you out. Telling himself that it’s just because he wants to make sure you aren’t waiting for him for too long, he can’t help but grin when your eyes find him and you smile.

You tell yourself that the butterflies are because it’s new, and because new is exciting. It’s not because you’re expecting anything, or even know if the date will go well. But your instincts are good and your intuition is worth listening to - and that gut you’ve spent years cultivating is telling you that this could be the start of something amazing if you let it.

You get your salad before Marcus gets his own food, making him watch you as he walks towards the table where you are already settling in. “Do you need napkins?” You always forget them and it’s a little habit that he has developed to grab more.

“You know I do.” He’s attentive. It’s something you’ve grown to appreciate about him during the time you’ve been getting to know him. “Just like I know you didn’t grab a fork and you’re going to regret it when that wrap gets messy halfway through.” The Extra fork on your tray is ready and waiting just like the extra napkins on his.

“Look at us playing to each other’s weaknesses.” Marcus chuckles, knowing that he will be using the fork. He always does and yet every time he doesn’t get one when the utensils are next to the napkins.

“I like to think of it as paying attention.” You counter, moving things around your tray to get it set up just the way you like. “We’ve both found each other worth paying attention to.”

“At least you also paid attention in class.” Marcus snorts, opening up the cup of extra tzatziki sauce he always asks for, along with extra pickled red onions. “You have one of the top five grades. Seriously, you should pursue criminal justice.”

“It would be a hell of a gear change from teaching high school English.” The cup of vinaigrette that comes with your chicken salad is unceremoniously dumped into the container and you pop the lid back on to shake it up and get everything evenly coated. “I honestly took the class because I love mysteries so much. I thought taking something about fighting crime would be fun.” You hadn’t even known who was teaching it when you signed up. Finding out you had Marcus for a professor was a delightful surprise.

“I think it’s a good idea to have everyone take at least one class.” Marcus knows you know this. It was basically his opening speech to his class. “Knowing about our system is necessary.”

"I completely agree." The discussions about how neither of you understand the resistance to understanding how the country you live in works have happened a few times over the last few months, usually in regard to a classmate saying something ignorant or someone illustrating a cultural difference between the US and the culture they grew up in. Discussions could either feel like you were banging your head against a wall or you could learn something truly interesting.

“So..” Marcus looks over at you as he scrapes the rest of the sauce out onto his gyro. “Are you ready for the summer? Or are you taking more courses?” He knows you are working towards your degree while working, so he’s not sure how it looks for you.

"I have a second job lined up for the summer. I'll keep busy and pocket as much money as I can." Working through the busy summer tourist season has always treated you well, and the company you work with has no problem accommodating your class schedule or your other job. "I'm on track to graduate next year as long as I don't run into a problem with any of my senior classes, so I'll spend my summer working and trying to get ahead in my reading if any of my professors are willing to hand out their reading lists early." It was the first email you always sent to a professor - asking if they wouldn't mind sending a reading list to you ahead of the start of the semester - and usually it helped establish you as a serious student early on. Being a slow reader meant you had to be prepared.

“Let me know what classes you are taking and I’ll be able to tell you what most of them have set out.” Marcus offers. “It’s good to have a jump on things.” It’s not just an offer because you’re going out on a date with him. He would offer it to any serious student. Just many of them hadn’t wanted to go beyond the unsubtle flirting.

“I’m a slow reader.” You shrug, digging your fork into your salad. “Taking a lot of classes that require extensive reading. Especially next year.” The first bite of your lunch is bright and crisp and refreshing as always, and you just let yourself enjoy it for a minute while you chew. “What about you?” You ask, tilting your head at him. “Any big summer plans with Missy?”

“Missy’s going to be with her grandparents most of the summer.” Marcus admits, hating that he will miss her, but she needs to spend time with Emily’s family. He was always welcomed, but he wanted her to bond with them without having dad hanging around.

“Oh?” He looks like he’s not thrilled with the idea, but you know how much he loves his daughter and he’s probably just aware of how much he’ll miss her - something you can’t blame him for in the least. That does, however, leave your mind open to think about very specific things…like spending the night together without having to worry about preteen eyes or ears.

“Yeah. So I’m going to be doing a lot of reading by the pool.” Marcus predicts. “Retirement from the Heroics left a lot of downtime that I hadn’t expected when I went into teaching.”

“It sounds relaxing, at least.” Would you kill to see Marcus lounging lazily, sunbathing shirtless with a book and a beer on any random summer day? It sounds like a dream. “If you want a change of scenery, sometimes the country club I work at gives us guest passes on slow days. You could read by a different pool if you wanted to?”

“So you’re inviting me to sit by your pool…” Marcus grins. “How good are your piña coladas?”

“Marcus I’m a bartender.” You pretend to be scandalized but just end up giggling when you take a sip of your drink. “My piña coladas are flawless, thank you very much.”

“I guess I will have to try them for myself.” Marcus teases, sending you a small wink. “Have you serving me frozen beverages all summer?”

"In my extremely sexy polo shirt and khaki shorts." The snort he gets from you is pure amusement, but the way you're smiling is so very, very pleased. Having him actively flirt with you is turning into a happy little puddle. "You'd be the only one actually allowed to leer."

“I will keep all my leering respectful.” He promises playfully. “Although you might be embarrassed to have such an old man flirt with you in public, even if you are used to it all the time.”

"If you're hanging out at the club this summer, then I'm assuming it will be because we've decided to keep seeing each other." And that thought alone makes you nearly giddy. "In which case I will be proud to have you respectfully leering while I work."

Marcus hums and picks up his gyro. “Then we will have to see if we are as good outside of ‘just friendly’ as I think we will be.” He tells you before he takes his first bite and groans at the flavors.

"I guess we will." You grin at him, forking up another bite of your lunch, and barely keep yourself from outright giggling. Next week can't come fast enough.

******

The nerves that come with getting ready for a ‘first date’ for the first time in nearly twenty years catches Marcus off guard. Panicking in the shower as he wonders if he’s made the date too casual, too presumptuous. What if you hate motorcycles? Should he just have made reservations somewhere? He runs through every single scenario in his mind until he’s nearly jittery.

He has no way of knowing that you've been sitting giddily in your apartment - busying yourself here and there with cleaning or changing your outfit four times or staring at the first page of a new book for a half hour and only reading the same sentence over and over again because you're too excited to focus. As seven o'clock ticks closer and closer, there is just less and less chance of you concentrating on anything except thinking of Marcus.

The ride over to your apartment complex is easy and surprisingly quick. You don’t live too far away from him and the implications that spring from that have him reminding himself that it’s just the first date. Swinging his leg over the bike as he shuts it off, he smirks to himself as he looks back at the helmet he had strapped to the back for you to wear. It’s a gorgeous evening for a ride and the setting sun in a few hours would look amazing as you cruise along the coast.

You practically jump when the buzzer goes off, beating a hasty route from the bathroom mirror - where you were quadruple checking the claim that your new lipstick is transfer-proof - to the hall. “Hello?” Trying to sound carefree instead of out of breath, your voice pitches up one too many octaves when you press the button to answer.

“Hey.” Marcus grins at how breathless you sound, wondering if you are just as nervous as he is. “Can I come up, or do you want me to wait down here?” If you decide to just come down, that’s completely your choice and he won’t judge you either way.

"Come on up!" Having decided thirty seconds ago to change your shoes from flats to boots for the sake of the bike you hope he brought, you push the buzzer to let him in and scramble to your bedroom to grab your knee-high boots.

Marcus grins, opening the door and deciding to take the stairs rather than wait for the elevator since you are only on the second floor. Eager to see you and get the date started. The only reason there aren’t flowers in his hand, is because they wouldn’t survive the ride over but maybe the one flower he does have silk charm you.

The knock on your door comes barely two minutes later and you've barely zipped up your boots when you answer it. Marcus has always dressed up for his time on campus, but today he has a leather jacket thrown over his untucked green button-up and boots peeking out from under his jeans where he would normally wear Oxford. The difference is slight, but it's mouthwatering. "Hey." One little word, but it's all you can manage when you're grinning from ear to ear like a lunatic. "Come on in."

“Hey.” He wipes his hands on his pants, slightly nervous as he steps inside. It’s been a long time since he’s been on a date and he doesn’t want to fuck it up. “You look great. Like really good.” He compliments.

“So do you.” He’s so obviously nervous that it makes you smile, relaxing in the moment when you remember how long it’s been for him. Having you be equally nervous isn’t going to help him at all. “Let me just grab my purse and we can head out?”

“Sure.” Marcus clears his throat and reaches into the pocket of his riding jacket. “So flowers, fresh beautiful ones, are standard for a first date - but they wouldn’t have survived the ride over.” He offers as he pulls out the lone metal rose he had brought you. “So I hope you aren’t disappointed by this.”

“Marcus…” Twisted and pulled from glossy metal into the form of a single blooming rose, the bud is a gorgeous example of artistry all on its own. It speaks to care because it’s so delicate, and an eye for beauty, and you gasp softly when you accept it from his hands. “It’s stunning.”

“I made it.” Why did he just volunteer that? He huffs slightly at his fucking inability to act like a normal man for just one second. “It’s- yeah, I just wanted you to have a flower.”

“Just because you don’t wear a uniform anymore, that doesn’t change who you are as a person.” It’s part of why you like him so much, if you’re honest with yourself. His being a hero isn’t all about his powers. He is fundamentally a good man.

“That’s very true.” He likes the fact that you have a very practical mindset about it. Some wouldn’t and it just means you are even more special than he had anticipated.

Out on the sidewalk in front of your building, his bike is easy to spot. The lone motorcycle in a parking lot of practical and family vehicles, it practically screams to be noticed and you love it. “I was hoping you were serious about bringing it.”

“Good.” Marcus practically beams at giddiness in your eyes. “It’s been a while since I’ve had time to go for a ride and figured it would be the perfect evening for it.”

“Absolutely perfect.” You couldn’t agree more, happily taking the second helmet from the back of his bike when he hands it to you.

Once you are as safe as you can be, Marcus straddles the bike and pulls it off the standing peg. “Get on behind me and hang on as tight as you want.”

“Dangerous thing to say to the woman who’s had a crush on you for the better part of five months.” The gentle laugh as you carefully climb into the back of the bike and wrap your arms around him is mostly teasing - but only mostly. Because you’d been lusting after him on TV for a lot longer than that.

Marcus chuckles as he starts the bike with a loud roar. Maybe showing off just slightly. He has backed into the parking spot so he can just take off with the twist of his wrist and he grins at the bubble of giggling that bursts out behind him as your arms tighten instinctively.

It’s a quick zip from your building to the Pacific Coast Highway. No more than a few minutes in the residential area puts you out enjoying the Southern California’ coastal salt air instead of smog. Each turn he takes hits right in the pit of your stomach and brings another bubble of giggles from your throat and you just hope he can hear them over the roar of the engine. Even if the night was just this - just riding around with him as your anchor - you would completely love it.

Marcus doesn’t try to speed and break your neck as he coasts along the Highway. This is about the leisure of the trip. Enjoying the scenery and he can feel you gasp when he takes one hand off the handlebars to point out some whales breaching just off the rocky coast.

It’s silly. It’s silly to worry. You’re with one of the world’s only literal superheroes. Nothing is going to happen to you. But you still clutch him a little bit tighter whenever he lets go of the handlebars to point. The smile on his face is free and easy and he seems to love the gasps from your lips, so you don’t bother feeling embarrassed. If you were nervous it’s already melted away. Being with Marcus is easy.

He doesn’t know how long you cruise, maybe an hour, hour and a half before he throttle down slightly. “When you see somewhere you want to eat, let me know!” He turns his head back towards you and shouts it so you can hear.

A little further up the road, a brightly painted seafood shack with a cartoon lobster wearing a captain’s hat on its sign. “Right there!” You call through the engine and wind noise, barely letting go of him long enough to point. It looks unpretentious and like it hasn’t changed owners or gimmicks in decades. Perfect for your breezy, relaxed evening ride.

“Okay.” Marcus immediately slows down more, letting go of the handle bars again to give the signal for his turn as he guides the two of you into the parking lot.

You could swear you’re still vibrating when he cuts the engine and your feet are on solid ground again, but it’s not rattling or uncomfortable. It’s like a very tangible adrenaline buzz running all through your body and - yes, definitely shooting right between your legs.

“You okay?” Marcus asks as soon as he takes off his own helmet and sets it down on the back of the bike. It might not be cool to some to wear protection, but he’s got his daughter to think of. And despite his best efforts at trying to stay inconspicuous, sometimes he was photographed in public, not the example he wants to set for the younger generations.

“That was amazing.” The shit-eating grin on your face promises that you’re not lying, and you let him gently unbuckle your helmet to lift it away and set it with his as you stand up.

“Well, why don’t we have whatever tickles our fancy and then we can find a shaved ice place or ice cream stand?” He offers.

"Sounds pretty perfect." A dressed down night like this - something that's more about who you're with than what you're doing - is exactly the right kind of first date to you.

“Good.” His hand finds your back, up under your jacket by sheer coincidence as he moves you towards the small shack. “Maybe we can eat outside?” He offers.

"Why eat by the ocean if you can't see the water at the same time?" His hand is warm through the thin material of your dress and you unconsciously shift closer to him as you walk inside.

“My thoughts exactly.” Marcus grins. “Order a beer if you want, I’m going to have a soda since I’m the one driving.”

The place is simple - just a window with a huge menu board over it where you place your order and a counter a few yards down where you can pick up your filled order when your name is called. Tables inside are simple plastic with matching chairs, and outside there are picnic tables to extend the seating by another dozen or so tables. A plate of fish tacos and local beer sounds like the most Californian meal you've eaten in a long time, and perfect for tonight.

“God, everything smells so good.” He groans, practically drooling at the menu board. “Do you want to get a bunch of things and split them?” He asks.

"You're on." By the time you get up to the window to order you've picked out three or four things that sound amazing - not the least of which is the fish tacos which are marked on the menu as award winning. Your beer will be on the tray when it comes up but Marcus is given a cup for his soda and is pointed toward the drink fountain while you wait.

"What kind goes best with what we ordered?" He hums playfully as he surveys the soda options. There are a few but he's just playing around, seeing if you will point out your favorite. His theory is that you would take a sip of it if he picks that one. So you just aren't drinking beer.

“Hmmmm.” Pretending to think excruciatingly hard about it, you shrug your shoulders playfully and tap the Sprite logo currently staring you in the face. “It’s a palate cleanser,” you reason when he raises one eyebrow to ask for an explanation. “Bright, citrusy, sweet but not as heavy as Mountain Dew or root beer.” It’s also your favorite, but he doesn’t need to know that. Having a favorite soda is silly at your age.

"Good choice." Marcus actually agrees with your assessment and immediately starts adding ice so he can fill the cup with Sprite. "Kind of like having white wine with chicken or beer with chicken wings." He grins and winks at you as he fills the cup.

“The extremely low rent version of that,” you laugh though, leaning against the counter as he fills his cup. “But I like the low rent versions of things. Just because something is fussier doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better.”

"I always believe there are times to be fancy and then there are times to just be...happy." Marcus shrugs. "I figured that the first date should be easy and light, not stuffy in a fancy restaurant where we are bored to death and unable to find things to eat that we can pronounce."

"Now that is a theory I can get behind entirely." You snag him a paper straw from the container next to the drink dispenser and send him one of those winks that he seems so fond of, just to be playful. "Although I do speak passable Italian."

"You do?" That is new information and he's delighted to learn that. It's charming to know that about you and he grins as he nods. "I can see it. Have you traveled to Italy?"

"I never got to." It's a regret, to be sure, but you made up your mind a while ago to not let those things drag you down anymore. It's been too long. "The first time I was in college, I was an art history major. Most of my focus was on the Italian Renaissance, so Italian was kind of necessary."

“I see.” Marcus nods. “Maybe you will be able to visit once you have your degree.” He offers, knowing that traveling to foreign countries is important.

"Once I have my degree this time, I hope I'll be able to find a good job." The best you can really do is shrug, pretending that you hadn't had to set aside several lifelong dreams when you dropped out of college the first time around. As short a life as it had been then, you've always been a dreamer. "It's okay." Not wanting to bring the mood down, you offer him a sunny smile and turn to wait for his name to be called at the counter. "I'll get there someday."

"I don't doubt it for a second." Marcus promises you with a smile. You are tenacious and he knows you will make it happen for yourself. "How many more of your classes are you shy of graduating?" He asks, as he stands beside you.

"Seven." It sounds like so much and so little all at once, and you stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket to resist the insane urge you have to hold his hand. "One more full year, basically. But I have a spot open in case I don't pass something this semester and need to retake."

"That's a smart thing to do." He is impressed with the way that you are thinking ahead. "Sometimes you don't pass the first time around, I know I couldn't pass my freshman statistics course to save my life."

“I took Intro to Botany for my science general ed thinking it would at least be interesting.” But from your cringe, he can tell that that isn’t true. “It turned out to be both insanely difficult and insanely boring. Which is a shame.”

"Yeah...." Marcus shakes his head. "I'm not the biggest fan of that class." He doesn't like professor Issacs, but you don't need to know that. He's never particularly cared for him, finding him pompous and egotistical without contributing much to the faculty. He seemed to make the course load harder for his students than it needed to be.

“Well, if Isaacs decides to flunk me, it’ll be Earth Sciences in fall, instead.” Which you probably should have done in the first place, but hindsight is 20/20 and all that. “How’s your grading looking? Staring down the barrel of a hundred and fifty tests and papers?”

"I actually have it down to a science." Marcus tells you with a small grin. "I should be done with grading by Sunday at the latest."

“Look at you, Professor Smarty Pants. You’ll have to teach me your tricks if I ever actually become a teacher.” You tease, grinning when the girl behind the counter calls his name, looks up, and recognizes him.

“Moreno?” She asks, stunned and wide eyes. “Marcus Moreno?” Her voice manages to go up several octaves. “I- oh my god!”

Taking his drink and grabbing some napkins and utensils is the most helpful thing you can do, and you watch with a smile as Marcus shakes the girl’s hand and chats with her for a second before grabbing the tray with your dinner. He’s in his element with people - any kind of people - and you always get a warm sort of pride whenever you’re with him when he’s recognized. Despite having no claim on him but friendship, you’re still proud of him.

Marcus listens to the girl gush, he had apparently saved her about five years ago, right before he had quit going out into the field with the other Heroics. Making him recall the incident and he smiles as she thanks him for what he had done, shaking his head and claiming that it had been nothing. Grateful that you aren’t annoyed that he’s having time taken away from the date. When he finally comes back over to you, he gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” You push the door open to go outside and let him go through first with the tray. “You’ve saved people's lives. You saved that girl’s life. That’s no small thing. Not at all.”

“It’s bad, but I don’t remember her.” Marcus feels guilty, but it’s the truth. There were a lot of people that day.

“And she never has to know that.” There is one picnic table closer to the water than the others, and you both move toward it instinctively. “I can’t imagine you remembering every person you ever saved. But I’m sure they'll all remember you for the rest of their lives.”

“It’s daunting.” Marcus admits. “I don’t think it’s a secret that I don’t crave attention.” He snorts. “I’m not Miracle Guy.”

“No one is.” You smirk, knowing Miracle Guy’s reputation for tooting his own horn.

Marcus chuckles at your expression and shrugs slightly. “He’s got quite the fan club.”

“And he loves it. But fame isn’t everyone’s first choice.” At the table you set everything out between you and sit side by side so you can both look out over the water while you eat. “For what it’s worth? I like you just as you are.”

“Well thank you.” Marcus moves your beer over to you and grins. “While we eat, maybe you can tell me why you chose teaching?”

“Have we never talked about that?” He shakes his head when you ask and you pop the cap off your beer. “Teaching was always on my radar.” You tell him, figuring that’s the best place to start. “I thought about teaching art, originally. But when I was taking care of my mom…the thing that she had the most energy for was books. We would read together constantly, until it was just me reading to hear and we would talk about every chapter and every book together. It was our own private book club, and I fell in love with literature all over again.”

"I like that." Marcus hates the fact that it seems like your mother is gone, he can't even imagine losing his mother right now although his father died when he was twelve, but he reaches out and takes your hand. "I'm sure that those memories are the ones that she cherished the most." He murmurs softly.

It’s not exactly the way you wanted it to happen - out of sympathy instead of excitement - but you look down at his large hands covering yours and smile. “She was my best friend,” you tell him, aware that your voice has dropped a little. “And I just hope I’m making her proud.”

“Doing exactly what you want to do and living your life how you want to live it is exactly what would make a parent proud.” He knows not all parents subscribe to that, but he feels like your mother would, considering how you’ve turned out.

“Thanks.” You shake your head, almost trying to release the cobwebs from the corners of your mind. “Sorry…I…I didn’t mean to bring the mood down.”

“You’re not bringing the mood down.” Marcus assures you, almost instantly. “Talking about our lives and what has happened is learning about each other. It’s the human condition that none of us are without personal tragedy.”

“I suppose.” Not wanting to let go just yet, you take a sip of your drink with your other hand. “Although most men would not feel that way on a first date. So thank you for being your compassionate self.”

“I am no stranger to things like this.” Marcus reminds you softly. “Do you know how many people hit on me at my wife’s funeral? And then didn’t understand why I was angry at them?”

“Are you serious?” The worst part is that you can imagine it. People offering to comfort the grieving widower with varying degrees of subtlety and lewdness. “That’s…that’s despicable, Marcus. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s done.” Marcus rubs his thumb in the back of your hand gently. “But I’ve learned that there are really good people in the world too, and you’re one of them.” He tells you with a soft smile.

“I really like you.” Though it comes out inelegantly, and you can feel your cheeks burn when you fear it, the sentiment is honest. “I mean…obviously. Since I’m here with you. But I guess I mean…I’m glad that you feel that way. Because the time that I’ve been able to spend with you is the happiest that I’ve been in a really long time.”

"That's good." He lights up, grinning broadly and can't quite hide the way his chest puffs out slightly at your praise of him and the time you have spent together. A lot of it has been innocent but it's a building block for what he wants. More.

With the air slightly clearer between you, you dig into your dinner with enthusiasm. The little roadside seafood shack is playing with no less than its A-game so everything is fresh and delicious. The sea is calm, treating you to crisp breezes and the occasional creature-sighting, and little joke after little joke piles up to have you both in a fit of giggles by the time the meal winds down. In your entire life a first date has never been this relaxed or fun, and you're starting to think that maybe you've just been dating the wrong people all along.

Marcus leans back and sighs. “Well, want to continue on and find our dessert stand?” He asks playfully, rubbing his stomach. “Or do you not have room?”

"There is always room for dessert." You tell him, with an air that you're giving some kind of sage wisdom. "Especially cold desserts on warm nights." It will be sundown soon and the mid-May sun is only just starting to lose power. "Do you know a place or are we driving until we find one?" Either way is fine with you. Either way is time spent with him.

“I’m kinda winging it.” Marcus admits with a grin. “Trying to be more spontaneous? Missy said I shouldn’t plan everything out like I do normally.”

"You told Missy?" Admittedly, you had been afraid to ask if he was going to or not, knowing that his relationship with his daughter means the world to him. You wouldn't have been surprised or offended if he had chosen to hold off on telling her about you until it became more serious. The fact that he did - that you seem to be important enough to him to have her know about you - floods you with warmth and joy.

“She’s the one that told me I needed to stop…how did she put it? “Being a wuss’  and ask you out.” He chuckles as he stands from the table and picks up the tray that you’ve both deposited all the trash from your dinner onto. He’ll throw it away and return the tray before getting back on the bike with you.

"Your daughter and my roommate." You can't help but chuckle a little, walking with him to the trash bins to chuck your beer bottle in the recycles. "Well...I'm glad one of us listened to our advice giver. I'm pretty sure I would have been too chicken when push came to shove."

“I was half convinced that I was making up the entire thing in my head.” He huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. “That maybe you just felt sorry for me and that’s why you ate lunch with me.”

"Not at all." The fact that he thought it, though, shows his humility. "Actually, at first I thought the reverse. That you were taking pity on your weird student who was older than everybody else by being friendly."

“God no.” Marcus breathes out. “You saved my sanity. Having someone who was understanding that it’s insane for all these girls to be wanting me?” He rolls his eyes. “There’s a group of them that started calling me ‘daddy’ and I just-“ he shrugs and laughs in that defeated and disbelieving kind of way. “Why?”

When you snort to keep from bursting out laughing, you can only hold up your hand to apologize. “Marcus, it’s because you’re hot. A sexy guy in a position of authority with a nurturing personality is a recipe for being a daddy.”

“But…I—” He trails off and his eyes widen slightly in realization. “Dear God.” He huffs after a long moment of silence.

“It’s a compliment,” you promise, looping your arm around him and hugging him while you desperately try to keep the laughter inside. “A slightly weird one, but a compliment nonetheless.”

“They do realize that I would never actually….date them, right?” He asks. “It would be so wrong.” Most of his class are seniors but the age gap widens every year and now there’s only three or four years between the freshman class and his daughter.

“The reasonable ones do. The less reasonable ones don’t care. That’s not the point.” Together you walk back around the tiny restaurant and out to the parking lot, but Marcus doesn’t move away from you so you keep your hand on him while you go. “They’ll get it out of their systems eventually and then you won’t have to hear it anymore. Besides, I think the ringleaders of that particular nickname are all graduating this year.” One of them was Monica, you know that for sure. But she’ll be graduated and gone in no time.

“Hopefully.” Marcus looks over at you, “although I wouldn’t mind a certain former student dropping by sometimes when she has time.” He teases.

“Oh yeah?” You smirk, unable to resist screwing with him just a little. “I’ll let Monica know. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“Do it and you’ll buy your own ice cream.” Marcus threatens playfully. He doesn’t mean it, but the idea of Monica haunting his office hours after graduation is almost enough to make his time by virtual connection only.

“That’s a very serious threat, you know.” You’re giggling when you make it to his bike, practically doubled over with it just from the mortified look on his face. “Of course I’ll drop by office hours. How else am I going to say hi?” Doing your best not to count on anything - or to get your hopes up too high - you have ended up just sort of assuming that he won’t want to go on another date after tonight. That it will be too weird for him or you won’t be as good as what he has built up in his mind before now. It’s helping to keep your expectations grounded, because your hopes are already imagining what it will be like to get to know his daughter.

“Welllllllll, I guess we could communicate through mirrors and reflections, smoke signals, or pigeon carriers.” Marcus snorts. “But I was hoping it would include the occasional phone call, or visit in person. I’ll even text.”

"I would pay money to see Missy teaching you how to text." That starts up the giggles again, but in a much more lighthearted way. "Look, Marcus..." You manage not to sigh, thank god, but your tone does trend a bit more serious. All fears aside for you, you know that he hasn't dated in an extremely long time and deserves some reassurance. "I told you that I really like you and I meant it. So if you decide you want to keep seeing me after tonight? I'm a commitment girl. So dropping by your office with snacks or to spend some time together will be a given."

“I know how to text.” Marcus grumbles, pouting at you slightly. “I just don’t. There’s no inflection. And how can I convey emotion?” He reaches out to take the helmet you had worn off the back of the bike to put it back on you. “I think this date is going really well, how about you?” He asks. “So I don’t know why I wouldn’t want to see you again.”

"If I tell you that I'm having a great night but trying not to set my expectations too high, do I get to see that cute pout again?" The fact that he sets the helmet on you and buckles it in place so he knows you're safe is about the cutest thing ever.

Just to get you to grin again, he does the pout again. Holding it for a few seconds before he shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I was thinking that you should set the expectations sky high.” He rumbles dramatically.

'My hopes are sky high," you assure him, feeling daring enough to reach out and touch his arm again even if it's only briefly. "But I know this is a big step for you, so I didn't want you to feel pressured."

“I don’t.” He promises, reaching up and chucking your chin softly before he glances down at your lips. “Not at all. Although there’s some pressure, it’s not something you have to worry about unless you want to.”

"What do you mean?" Tilting your head to one side, you don't miss the way he glances down at your lips, though the innuendo goes straight over your head.

He chuckles quietly and lets go of your chin. “I’ll let you figure that one out for yourself.” He teases, turning back and grabbing his own helmet. “Let me know when you got it worked out.”

"Well that's not fair." It's your turn to pout now, just as playfully. "I have no talent for double meanings, if my roommate is to be believed."

“Really?” He turns back around and smirks at you. “If you don’t figure it out by the time I drop you off at your place, I’ll let you in on the pressure.”

"You're enjoying this too much." But it's amusing rather than anything else, and you nudge him playfully.

“Maybe a little.” He chuckles as he climbs back on the bike and motions you over. “Climb back on, sweetheart.”

If teasing you is what keeps that smile on his face then you are all for it. You just shake your head to make him laugh again and swing your leg back over the back of his bike. Your arms slide easily around his waist this time with no hesitation in the thing, and you giggle all over again when the engine roars to life.

“Want to go a little faster this time?” Marcus yells over his shoulder.

"Go for it!" There's no question you'll be safe with him, and the adrenaline from the ride is definitely worth it, so you just hold on a little tighter.

“Hang on!” Marcus laughs as he kicks the peg up and twists the throttle of the bike hard enough to lurch you out of the parking spot and make you squeal in surprise.

Back on the highway Marcus picks up the pace, moving you through traffic with expert handling and a fearlessness that goes straight past anything worrying and directly to being such a damn turn on.

This time there’s less talking, more wind buffering around you. Marcus loves the feeling of it, having spent plenty of time wishing he had the skill of flying like Miracle Guy, but this is a close second. He grins as you squeeze him tight and he lets go of one handlebar to cover your hands with his own as he carries you further up the coast.

The colors of sunset are just starting to appear on the horizon when Marcus points out a sign for an ice cream stand up ahead. His hand has been warm on yours whenever it's been safe for him to have it there, and you could swear that the warmth radiating off of him in waves has changed somehow. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

Throttling down, he pulls into the parking lot of the ice cream stand, happy that it seems moderately busy on this beautiful night. Even better, there’s benches facing the ocean to sit and eat. “Now are you a sundae kind of girl or a cone?” He asks playfully.

"Yes to both," you laugh honestly. You both take off your helmets and pop off the bike to stretch your legs, but stick close to each other while other people bustle around having fun. "But tonight feels like a cone night. Much easier for sitting and watching the water with."

“I agree.” Marcus can’t help but touch you again, keeping his hand on your back again. “Figure once we finish up here, we’ll turn around and start heading back to L.A. Don’t want you too sore from riding too long.”

"Sure. We got a perfect night for a few more hours of driving." Though you have no desire to see the night end, you're not trying to monopolize every second of his time. Or at least you wouldn't admit to wanting it. For now you just keep close and lean into his side a little as you stroll toward the stand overlooking the water.

“It’s also a good reason to stop at these stands.” He looks over at you and smirks. “If you aren’t used to it, it’s a real workout on your hips and thighs.”

"Some things are worth being sore for." It's amazing the way you miss even your own innuendo, but there it is. The words don't even register a second meaning on their way out of your mouth.

Marcus waits a beat for you to smirk, but you don’t. Giving credence to your claim that you don’t get secondary meanings. “Yep.” He chuckles. “Let’s figure out what ice cream we want.”

"I'm going to guess...pistachio for you." You glance up at him when you get into line and raise an eyebrow. "Or Rocky Road? Something classic."

“Actually…” Marcus smiles as he glances at the list of flavors. “I was thinking the sinful Caramel truffle swirl.” He admits.

"Ooh, we're going for something fancy tonight." It might be the mood or the sunset, but he is just remarkably handsome tonight. "Sounds tasty."

“You always go fancy with ice cream.” Marcus laughs. “Or red velvet, peanut butter cup mashup?”

"Red velvet and caramel swirl mash up?" Suddenly it's a game, playing with pairings, and his hand on your back has slipped to your waist making you feel giddy like you're still flying on that bike with him.

“Orrrr the banana flavored ice cream with peanut butter, chocolate chips and caramel swirl?” He asks, nearly drooling at the combinations they offer.

"The Elvis. Always a classic." All it's missing is bacon, and you would absolutely use that as a sundae topping. "I say we pick two and swap halfway through. Best of both worlds."

Marcus grins slowly and nods. “Sounds like a plan to me.” His fingers tighten on your waist slightly as you both turn back towards the window and step up to order. “Ladies first.” He murmurs to you.

You end up ordering coffee cookies and cream and Marcus gets the Elvis-inspired concoction that had him drooling, and within minutes you’re scouting for a place to sit in the small army of benches overlooking the water. The pinks, purples, and orange in the sky are a watercolor collage of the perfect sunset, and the smattering of other couples who also chose to stop here on their dates have given the place a more romantic feel than a little seaside ice cream stand probably ever would ever have on its own.

“Sooooo.” Marcus guides you over to the benches, the girl behind the window assuring them that they will bring the ice cream to you. “How is the view?” He asks, sitting down besides you and offering his hand. If you want to take it, you have the option.

“I think it might be my new favorite.” In fact, you’re so busy admiring his profile against the colorful sky that you almost miss his proffered hand. Almost. But you slip your hand into his larger one with a shy smile, relishing the simple intimacy.

Marcus isn’t looking at the sunset. Instead his eyes are on you. “Mine too.” He promises, curling his fingers around yours protectively.

“Yeah?” You’re both the same kind of sappy, it seems, and the smile on your face widens immeasurably. Your cheeks are going to ache from it tomorrow but you couldn’t care less. “I’m glad to hear it.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything else, just letting both of you settle back and watch the light play over the water. His hand doesn’t leave yours and he sighs softly. “The view of the water is nice too.”

A laugh - small and breathy - cracks your dreamy expression and you manage to thank the teenage girl who brings over your ice cream when she arrives a moment later. “Yes,” you grin at him, nearly giggling. “The water is nice, too.”

The first bite of the creamy, sweet ice cream makes Marcus moan, rolling his eyes back. “Holy shit.” He groans, taking another lick of the confection. “I know we’re trading but you have to try this now.” Having the perfect dessert almost makes up for having to let go of your hand. Almost.

“That good?” You ask, and he nods when he holds it out to you. It’s messier than you're proud of, that first taste, but you groan right along with him and let your eyes float shut happily. “Holy shit, it is that good.”

“Right?” He’s practically giddy as he takes another bite of it happily. “This is definitely a place to come back to again one night.”

“Absolutely.” The first bite of your own cone is just as good, and you moan again happily. “If it’s all this good then we’ll have to come back with Missy.”

“Missy will insist on it.” Marcus chuckles. “That girl has never met an ice cream flavor she didn’t love. She even eats mint chocolate chip.” He makes a face and grins at you.

“Mint chocolate chip is delicious!” You protest immediately, making him just grimace even more dramatically. “Fine, more for me and Missy, then. You’re the one missing out.”

“I will happily miss out.” He promises you. “I don’t care for the taste of toothpaste with my chocolate.”

“How about coffee and Oreos?” Offering him a first taste of your ice cream is only fair since you’d had one of his, but more than anything you’re just enjoying the easy teasing between you.

“Now you’re speaking my language.” Marcus doesn’t hesitate in sampling the cone you offer him and he groans happily. “God.”

“Right?” You laugh, trying to ignore the way the sounds reverberate through you anytime Marcus groans or moans over delicious food. “We have to come back. Gotta try every flavor.”

“Absolutely. Although with Missy coming, we’ll have to trade the motorcycle for the car.” He doesn’t mind it, and to be honest, he likes that you want to include his daughter.

“I don’t mind.” Spending time with his daughter is more important than how you travel, and honestly you’re not sure you’ll be composed enough for family bonding with how fucking wet riding that bike has made you. “The bike can be for when it’s just us.”

“I like the way you think.” Marcus smirks slightly and takes another bite of his ice cream.

“After all…” When you smirk at him it’s devious. “I don’t think the bike would be considered very ‘Daddy’ of you.”

He snorts, nearly choking on the melted cream of his dessert. “That’s just mean.”

“Me? Mean?” You blink at him innocently, with your eyes as wide as they’ll go. “Never! But tease? Absolutely.”

“So you tease but you don’t get the dirty meanings behind comments?” He laughs, shaking his head in amusement. “Interesting.”

“I guess I just…never expect anyone to make dirty comments to me?” It feels like an excuse, or something silly, and you shrug your shoulders. “So it never occurs to me.”

“Why?” That seems impossible to him. You’re beautiful, kind, smart and funny. “While I don’t subscribe to catcalling women all the time, there’s got to be times where people come onto you.”

“Maybe.” Another shrug and you feel yourself looking away, like you ought to be embarrassed for missing out on something. “But I never notice unless it’s extremely obvious. Like the day you asked me to have lunch with you the first time? You flat out asked me.”

“I don’t mind having to be blunt.” Marcus leans in and nudges your shoulder slightly. “I’ll keep it in mind when I want you to know I’m flirting with you.”

“I’ll learn,” you promise, knowing the whole thing sounds silly to any ‘normal’ person. “Learning how you flirt is easier than learning how everybody in the world flirts.”

“This is very true.” Marcus is halfway down with his cone so he dutifully holds it out for you to take.

“Trade time.” You offer him your cone in exchange, glad that something so simple can be enjoyable for both of you. After everything you’ve been through over the last few years, you really have realized that it’s the little things that mean the most to you. Something as simple as sharing food makes everything much more intimate.

“We might have to get a couple of pints to take home next time.” Marcus suggests. “Bring a cooler.”

“We can make homemade ice cream sandwiches.” The thoughts roll on - of spending more time with him, getting to know Missy - the daydreams you have only started to allow yourself this week as you waited eagerly tonight.

“Ohhhh make some cookies for the sandwiches.” Marcus groans, rolling his eyes at the idea.

“Exactly.” His enthusiastic reaction makes you grin, hoping that some of these little dreams might come true sooner rather than later. Tonight has really been perfect, and you don’t want it to end even if all you do is sit here in the after-dusk and watch the water together.

“So…anything else you want to do?” He asks softly. “We don’t have to end the date after we get back to L.A.”

“Honestly? We could probably do anything and I’d enjoy it.” Simple, maybe, but you prefer to think of it as being easy going. And you’ve never not enjoyed time with this man. “Maybe we could just…curl up? Watch a movie or something? Unless that sounds boring to you.”

“We could do that.” Marcus offers after thinking about it for a second. “Do you want to do this at your place or mine?” Just because you were picked up from a date at your apartment doesn’t mean you want him to come back to it. He frantically tries to remember if he did the dishes this morning.

“It’s probably easier if you come back to mine, I think.” Not that the very idea of it doesn’t have you shaking a little with anticipation. “That way you don’t have to drive the round trip between our places just to drop me off.”

“If that’s what you want.” Marcus chuckles quietly and decides to be honest. “I was just panicking and praying I had cleaned up from breakfast this morning.”

“There’s no reason to worry about that.” You shake your head, pausing for a second to lick away a drop of ice cream before it can skate down your hand. “A pristine house always confuses me. It’s supposed to be where you live, and life is messy.”

“Life is messy but I don’t think day old dishes are the way to express it.” Marcus chuckles. “I always think of shoes by the door, backpacks slung over the stair banister, throws and pillows messy on the couch.” He shrugs. “Basically how my house looks.”

“If you would be more comfortable at your house, I don’t mind.” For you, this is all about making him as at ease as possible, because you know that no matter what you’ll enjoy yourself. “I can take an Uber home?” Or spend the night, but you won’t say that part out loud.

He chuckles quietly. “I was wanting you to be comfortable.” He pouts slightly, playfully, at you.

“Too considerate for our own good.” You have to laugh a little, realizing that you’re both dancing around each other. “Why don’t we go to your house, then?” An Uber ride now will give you time to think, and to maybe not do something impulsive like ask him to stay.

Marcus nods. “That sounds good. We’ll have the house to ourselves and not have to worry about bothering the neighbors.” He murmurs, knowing you probably won’t get his meaning.

“Sounds good.” The smile you give him is admittedly a little dreamy, but that’s okay. A first date should be dreamy if it’s any good. Now that it’s officially dark out, the night seems to have taken on an extra layer of comfort that you hadn’t expected. Or maybe it’s just that you’re leaning into his side on the bench.

Marcus quickly devours the cone, but he offers you the very tip of the cone - the best part in his opinion. “Here, sweetheart.” He leans up and holds it up to your lips. “The sweetest bite.”

There’s something very intimate about it but you don’t shy away, accepting the gift by nipping it right out of his fingers with your teeth but still accidentally grazing his fingers with your lips in the process. He’s right about it, though, and you hum happily when you offer him the same last bite of the cone you had been holding.

It should be obvious how Marcus is feeling from the way his breath catches when you graze his fingers, but he doesn’t know. So he makes it obvious. He wraps his lips around your fingers and sucks lightly.

As gentle as he is when he does it, it sucks the air straight out of your lungs to make you gasp. There's no possible way to miss the deliberate way his tongue flicks at your fingertips instead of focusing on the nub of the ice cream cone that you had been offering, and although he does come away with the treat in his mouth that's not at all what you're focused on now. You stare for a second before you can compose yourself again, and instead of being gobsmacked you immediately feel your whole face burning.

"Delicious." He hums, smirking at you slightly as he licks his lips before he starts to lick his fingers clean of any melted ice cream that dripped down. "Are you ready to go back?" He asks, watching you carefully as he sucks his thumb clean.

The reply gets stuck in your throat at first but you nod, eventually managing to stammer out a "Yes" and flustering, because what you want to do is drag him in for a kiss but that seems awfully forward. Or maybe it isn't at this point and you're just paranoid - who knows.

Marcus chuckles quietly, suddenly more confident on this date than he had been up to this point. His knuckles brush across your cheek and there’s still just a touch of light over the ocean to make the scene romantic with the string of lights around to give it a nice glow. “I’m going to kiss you, unless you say no.” He warns softly, making his intentions known and giving you a chance to pull away as he leans in.

“Why the hell would I do that?” It gives you just a second to appreciate his knack for crystal clear communication, which means the world to you, but you’re also not trying to open a dialogue. You lean in as easily as breathing, finding his lips a half seconds faster than he anticipated, and let your eyes flutter closed at that first touch. It feels so natural, like everything else tonight, and you reach one hand up to cup his cheek while the moment lingers between you beautifully.

Marcus sighs into the soft kiss. It’s gentle, promising. A first kiss that sweet dreams are made of and he’s careful to not take it any deeper. If you want to kiss him again, he can expand then. After a moment, or many an hour, he pulls away with a smile. “Ready, beautiful?”

“Absolutely.” As soft and sweet as it is, your whole self is buzzing with it and you run your thumb along his jaw as you nod. “Ready, handsome.”

The two of you stand up and there’s a natural way that you seem to drift towards each other. His hand sliding around your waist and he hums softly. “Are you warm enough in that jacket for the ride home?” He asks, knowing that it will get cooler now that the sun is down.

“I’ll be okay.” He must not know that he radiates heat. It comes off him in waves and you’ve wondered more than once how he could possibly survive wearing sweaters like he does in Southern California weather while being so warm. Maybe it’s just an aura he gives off. “If I’m chilly when we get to your house we’ll just have to curl up under a blanket.”

Marcus groans slightly, barely refraining from making another dirty comment, but his fingers flex slightly on your hip. “Whatever you want.” He promises.

“Did I say something?” You’re starting to pick up on things. On his cues that could be considered unusual. At least, he never groaned around you before.

“Yeah.” He knows you didn’t mean it sexually. “I was just thinking of all the ways I could be under a blanket with you, sweetheart.” He admits as the two of you stop in front of his bike again. “It’s adding to that pressure I was talking about.”

With two pieces of the puzzle, it's like something clicks into place in your mind and you suck in another breath, clamping your mouth shut to keep from openly giggling. "Oh." You duck your head and push into his space a little, just to press a kiss to his cheek. "I wouldn't... wouldn't mind not making it through the movie," you admit quietly.

He chuckles quietly and reaches for the helmet for you. “That’s up to you.” He promises quietly. “Completely up to you.”

The ride back to LA is easy. The giddiness in your blood is different than it was when you left the city but no less exciting - just a new kind of anticipation. The idea that he does actually want you as much as you want him is exhilarating, making you hyper aware of the way you have to cling to him as he guides you through traffic. The strength of him despite how he might look soft to the outside observer. The breadth of his back and shoulders giving you a place to rest your head as your drive that only makes you wonder if the breadth of his chest would be even more comforting.

There is a slight urgency to getting back this time. He’s not speeding too badly but it’s not the leisurely drive it had been on the way out. Not with the fact that your hand has slipped under his jacket and resting on his stomach, warm and heavy.

His house is picturesque from the outside: the pinnacle of upper-middle class southern California comfort. A gate and security box outside let you in to see the well kept front yard and around the side of the house where the pool is beckoning with welcome. It looks tidy but not fussy, which is just like him. "Home sweet home?" You hum when he cuts the engine in his driveway.

“Home sweet home.” Marcus offers, letting you swing yourself off the back of the bike before he lets down the kickstand and dismounts himself. “Hopefully you like it.”

"I can't think of any reason why I wouldn't." As reluctant as you are to pull away, you take off the helmet you had been wearing and hand it off to him to secure. The night has barely gotten a chill but the ride definitely created a breeze, and you smile when you take his offered hand. "Do you want to give me the grand tour?"

“Of course.” He practically beams at how you smile at him. It’s the type of smile that makes him feel like a warm blanket has settled over him. “Missy has managed to make this hang out central in the summertime when she’s here. The kids like to come swim.”

“I would too, if I were them. Any place with a pool is the best place to spend free time.” There’s vestiges of teenagers everywhere when he shows you the path to the backyard - pool toys in a large crate and everything brightly colored in every way. It feels lived in and loved.

“Of course. And it’s always asking if I can grill hamburgers or whatever.” He huffs, but his grin gives away how much he enjoys it. “Do you know how many bags of chips teenagers can plow through?”

“It’s gonna be even more if I start coming over.” You flash him a grin that says you’re one hundred percent ready to suck up to his daughter to make sure she likes you. “Dips and desserts are kind of my thing.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Do you mean to bring them or I’ll have to buy more?” He teases with a wink.

“Oh no, I’ll make them.” You promise, laughing right with him. “Nothing says pool party and burgers like fresh salsa and guac.”

“You make homemade guacamole and my daughter would be your best friend.” Marcus laughs. “She eats it all by herself.”

“Befriending Missy is very high on my list of priorities.” That’s something that shouldn’t be a secret from him - that you value him enough to make his daughter a priority. Tonight has been amazing and might still continue to get better, and it’s important that he knows how seriously you take this.

“The key to her heart is avocados and green chili sauce.” He confides, whispering playfully. “If you can make green chili enchiladas, she might ask you to move in.”

Your other hand moves around his waist when he pulls you into his side and you grin up at him when you hug him. “I really hope you don’t mind having me around then, because it sounds like Missy and I can live off the same foods.”

“If you can cook it, thank God.” Marcus huffs. “Because for some reason mine never turns out right.”

“We’ll have to see what she thinks.” You lean into Marcus with a smile. “I hope they make the cut.”

“If they are halfway decent, it would be a lot better than mine.” He chuckles, leaning into you and sending you an up close wink.

“Wanna show me the inside?” A nod to the house is a small thing, but getting to see his space for the first time is a big deal.

“Of course! Yes, of course.” He huffs at himself and shakes his head. “Come inside, please.”

The house is lived in. Cozy and as tidy as it can be while being inhabited by a single dad and his teenage daughter. No cleaning lady has been through here, no private chef has seen the inside of this kitchen or painstakingly set this table. It hasn’t been touched by an interior decorator or a stylist. It’s just their home, and you like it all the better for that.

“So this is it.” He’s never been a showy person, motioning to the living room and open kitchen. “It’s home and to be honest, probably could use a hell of a dusting.” He admits, blushing slightly.

“It’s just like you.” The words come with a soft, lopsided smile. “Comfortable, welcoming. Like you don’t want to leave once you’ve been let inside.”

Marcus smiles slowly and nods. “Well it’s a good thing that you only leave when you want to.”

It’s a chance to take, but you’re willing to go out on a limb right now. With his fingers still threaded through yours it’s easy to turn into him and tip your head back. It’s just a small moment, or at least it starts that way, but you place a kiss to the corner of his mouth in what is - for you - a very daring move. “That is a good thing,” you murmur, hoping that wasn’t too forward after he kissed you earlier in the evening.

It warms him, making him snake his free hand around your waist and pull you closer. “Hmmmm.” He hums quietly and shakes his head. “We can do better than that, sweetheart.” He promises before he leans in to kiss you again.

It’s firmer this time, more wanting, and you sigh into it with a freedom and enthusiasm that is only encouraged by how close he’s holding you.

Marcus feels the tension building, loves how naturally this is progressing and he tilts his head slightly so he can run his tongue along the seam of your lips.

You shiver a little and sigh, opening up for him and gliding your tongue along his for that first taste of exploring something deeper. While his hand tightens at your waist, yours slide up his shoulders easily, pulling the two of you together like magnets. You opening up for him is like opening the floodgates for Marcus. The needs that have been building for him spill out, making him become more assertive. Guiding you towards a counter while groaning into your mouth, he presses against your body, his own hard and throbbing for you.

Permission has been given here - permission to act and permission to want in a way that you can’t remember even scratching the surface of with anyone before him. Of course there were others before him, you’re not that innocent, but it’s been a long time and something about the way Marcus is mapping the inside of your mouth so carefully and methodically feels momentous. You moan for him, softly at first but it quickly becomes needy, and tangle your fingers in his clothes like a desperate, silent plea to have them out of the way.

“Baby.” Marcus pants as he pulls away, sucking in the air he had been deprived of while he was kissing you. His lips trail down your jaw. “You need- let me know- if- if we need to stop.” He manages.

“Could say the s-same to you —” It’s not as though you haven’t dreamt of this. Gotten yourself off to the thought of this. Tried to imagine if he would be rough and needy from desperation or soft and gentle out of caution and affection. Now that you might be a hair’s breadth away from finding out you don’t ever want to stop.

“Fuuuuuuuck.” Marcus lets out a breathless chuckle against your pulse. “Baby I want to show you my bedroom.” He murmurs desperately. His cock twitches against your stomach.

“Please.” There’s nothing more straight forward than that, and you nod almost frantically.

“Okay.” He pulls away from you and takes your hand. “Let’s go upstairs.” He offers, giving you a moment to breathe.

If you were in a more eloquent mood you might have thought it was like being led through a palace by your very own Prince Charming, but as it stands the only thing you can really focus on is the heat radiating off of him and the urgency with which you’re both climbing the stairs. You barely make it to the landing before you’re glued to each other again, blindly grasping along the hallway as you moan into another kiss.

It has been a long time since Marcus was in such a hurry to ferry someone into his bedroom. Yet his hands grip every part of you that he can reach and he is pushing off your jacket right there in front of the stairs so he can touch more of you. Drunk off the soft sounds you pour into his mouth.

One by one the pieces of clothing start to drop - your purse, both jackets, his shirt - with an urgency that you hadn't known you had until his hands were spanning your whole hips with one great grasp and his teeth found exactly how sensitive the tender skin of your neck is. "Marcus–" His name is a prayer before it becomes a chant and your own hands map the expanse of his chest as you tumble through a doorway that you desperately hope leads to his bedroom.

“Gonna make this good baby.” It’s a desperate promise to his ears, especially as long as he’s been without intimacy. Unless you count him jerking off this morning in a desperate attempt to not attack you. Though that point seems to be moot.

"So good." How could you doubt that about him? Well...you don't, honestly, but you understand that as long as it's been for you it's been much longer for him. And to have a little reassurance might go a very long way tonight. "So fucking good."

“Let me know if I do something that you don’t like.” Marcus orders you softly, smirking at you because he doesn’t think that it will be likely. “It has been a long time since I’ve been able to go down on someone.”

“Fuck, Marcus.” Having had no expectation for tonight, that bowls you over like a ton of bricks and you look up at him with lust blown eyes. “There is nothing I don’t like about that.”

He chuckles, the deep, raspy sound of arousal and anticipation. “You don’t know, I could be a biter.” He teases, knowing that he will put his teeth marks on you in a few different places.

"How do you know I wouldn't like that?" You tease back, enjoying that every single second doesn't have to be fully loaded and serious. Being able to laugh with your lover is something you need.

Marcus snaps his teeth at you playfully at winks. “Only one way to find out.”

Giggling in response, you happily draw him in for another kiss before stepping back toward his bed. One pull brings your dress up over your head, and you just have to thank your lucky stars that you wore a reasonably cute matching underwear set tonight. It's not all the way to lingerie, but it's nicer than your every-day stuff. If you had anticipated this at all, you would have pulled out the fanciest thing you own.

“Fuck.” The sight of your pretty panties and bra makes his cock twitch in his pants and he’s quickly ridding himself of the t-shirt he had worn. He might be slightly self conscious, it’s been a long time since he was in Heroics shape, but he ignores that as he stares.

"You took the word right out of my mouth." It might be a silly thing, but you can't help staring right back for a moment. The little bit of softness around his middle doesn't diminish his figure one ounce. If anything, you like a bit of softness with all that strength. He looks broader like this - shoulders tapering down to trim hips - and you step backward again. One step closer to his bed.

“Take off your bra.” Marcus orders quietly before he smirks and holds up his hand to stop you. “Better yet…hold still.”

Tilting your head at him, you stop reaching behind you. A second later the hook and eye clasps on your bra open completely untouched. "Did you just--?" Your hand immediately reaches back to touch the clasp, which feels completely normal and unbent, and you pull your bra down your arms with a smirk. "Metal powers. Handy."

“Very handy.” He might look like the cat who got the cream and his eyes only get wider as your breasts are revealed to him. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.” He coos, reaching for the button of his jeans. “Do you like your nipples sucked on?” He asks, mouthwatering as he imagines it.

"Mmhmm." For some reason the question paralyzes you, like that is somehow what has made tonight completely real. "I-- y-yes, god yes."

“Then I’m going to suck on them.” Marcus groans like you’ve given him a gift. “I’m going to suck on them while my fingers stretch open your little pussy before I lick it.”

"Fuck." One more step back and your calves bump against his bed frame, almost making you lose your balance because you weren't expecting to find the all-important piece of furniture so easily. "Do it, Marcus. Touch me, please."

His jeans are pushed down, his boxers tented with a large wet spot from where he is leaking. “Lay down.” Marcus practically growls out the order, eager to see you spread out in his bed.

All in one not-too-smooth motion, you shift back onto his bed and slip out of your panties, wanting to just bypass any other awkwardness by laying yourself bare for him. Everything Marcus wants at this moment, you are more than happy to give him.

He had wanted to strip off your panties, but it’s completely okay if you are bare. Giving him the perfect unobstructed view of your body. He hisses through his teeth and rushes to strip off his boxers. “Jesus baby, look at you.”

"Too busy looking at you." His cock is thick, and longer than you've had before, sending a delicious shiver down your spine as you take in the sight of him prowling toward you. Two steps and he's leaning on the bed, making the mattress dip to hold his weight and bringing the heat of his proximity back to you. "Fucking gorgeous."

“Yes you are.” Marcus hovers over you, watching you squirm underneath him as he takes in the view. “Let me kiss you again, sweetheart.”

"Gladly." You would drown in him right now if you could - kissing him is the least of it. The weight and breadth of him on top of you makes you feel almost dainty as you breathe him in, and just a touch of warm wetness on the inside of your thigh tells you he is just as excited by the turn tonight has taken as you are.

The kiss is hot, frantic and Marcus is lowering himself onto you before he even realizes it. Needing to get closer. “Fuck.”

It feels like your hands are everywhere at once, trying to map the length and breadth of him while you memorize his taste. With no hesitations between you, the instinct to reach down and wrap your hand around his length is easy to give in to.

You would think that he’s been surprised, maybe even hurt from the way that Marcus sucks in a loud breath. But there’s no mistaking the way his hips jerk forward when your hand surrounds his cock and squeezes gently. It’s the sweetest kind of torture and he feels the burst of pearly liquid build up on the tip naturally. “Shit.” The ragged groan is followed by his mouth starting to blaze a wet trail across your chest in search of your nipple.

Your own gasp nearly matches when he finds it, drawing a moan from you and arching your back off the bed and letting your eyes flutter shut just for a second before you peel them open again to watch him. Ravenous isn’t usually a word you would use to describe Marcus but right now he is a man starved and the first step to satiating him is found at your tits.

There had been a few times where he had worried he wouldn’t be able to do this again. That he would be too nervous or just unsure of the new partner. But you have stripped all of those insecurities away and left him with nothing but heavy desire.

The sounds surrounding you like a halo turn filthy quickly. Groans muffled by skin, vocal moans, the sloppy sounds of Marcus lapping at your chest more and more desperately every time your hand moves on his cock.

“Fuck.” His groan is muffled around your nipple. His hands blaze a trail over your skin, groping and squeezing every piece of flesh he could. “So good.”

“Marcus—” You whimper when he moves across your chest, latching onto your neglected nipple with eager determination. “Fuck baby — need you to touch me. Please.”

Once you beg him, Marcus can’t deny you anything. His fingers slide down to slide through your folds and press against your clit as he switches over to the other breast. Your hand around his stills when he presses his fingers into you, totally absorbed in the feeling of being split open on two of his thick fingers as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. It has your chest heaving and body aching all at once, desperate to get as close to him as possible. To draw him into you and get him as addicted to the feel of you surrounding him as you already are to him surrounding you.

“So sweet.” Marcus pulls off your tit and groans when he feels how fucking tight you are as he pumps his fingers into your body. “Fuck, that what you need? That good? You need me to curl them?” He wants to know how to make you cum, wants to hear those breathless cries.

"C-curl, fuck, please--" It's impossible to form a complete thought with his fingers moving inside of you so gorgeously, but you nod and hope he can understand the broken sentence for what it is. "So good."

He hears you, his teeth nipping the side of your breast as he curls his fingers up and presses them deeper.

You keen in response, crying his name and grasping his shoulders as he pumps his fingers in and out of your tight cunt, curling them perfectly against that gorgeous spongy spot inside of you and making you see stars. "Just-- fuck -- like that, oh my god."

Marcus groans, breathing against your skin and closing his eyes at the sound of your moan. “Good girl.” He coos breathlessly. “Oh fuck, good girl.” His cock pulses against your hip but he wants to make this good for you. Knowing that he won’t last too long in bed this time.

It's all too overwhelming and so good in all the ways that you've missed being touched, and Marcus's rhythm doesn't falter as he pushes you right to the edge. Barely gasping out a warning before your whole body seems to lock down under him, his name is on your lips when you fall apart for him the first time.

Marcus shudders, feeling the liquid heat rush over his fingers. Making him moan your name quietly as he keeps pumping his fingers up into to keep the pressure against that spongy spot and draw it out for you while he kisses along your jaw and murmurs small words of encouragement in your ear. “Good girl, so fucking good. Ride it out for me, baby.”

"Goddamn." When you feel like you can breathe again, you turn your head to capture his lips in a sloppy, eager kiss. "So fucking good, baby."

He chuckles quietly, soaking up your praise and slowly pulling his fingers out of you along with a whine when he does. “Good.” He pants. “You want–” He pulls back and looks into your eyes. “Can I fuck you, baby?” He asks.

"Fuck yes." There's no hesitation for you. Months of dreaming - and daydreaming - about this makes you nothing but pliant and needy. "I-I'm safe," you manage to pant out between kisses. "IUD, I mean."

He groans the idea of feeling you bare and having you full of his cum. “Good. I’m safe too.” He promises, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Been a long time and I’ve had a clean bill of health.”

"It's been a while for me, too." There's no reason for him to be self-conscious about that, and you brush the damp curls of hair out of his face to press a kiss to his forehead. "Doesn't matter," you smile softly. "Just matters that it's you."

That more than anything, makes him relax. Marcus kisses you, forgetting that he had promised to use his tongue on you as he shifts and covers your body with his. “So fucking beautiful.” He groans.

"All for you, baby," you promise him, knowing that nothing in the damn universe could pull you out of this man's bed now that you're here.

He doesn’t rush. Instead, settling between your thighs is a slow affair. He’s not some teenager that needs to be inside you, although the ache has built up to almost painful. Instead he kisses you as his hand slides between your bodies so he can position himself at your core and his eyes watch yours as he slowly starts to sheath himself in your welcoming body.

You feel like you're holding your breath as he presses into you, filling you up inch by gorgeous inch, but it's the low moan reverberating in your chest and the thick cock slowly splitting you open that gives you the feeling of breathlessness. Marcus isn't in a hurry and neither are you. With your foreheads pressed together and sounds of pleasure coming from both of you, the room around you has dissolved and narrowed your reality down to just him.

“Holy shit.” Marcus’s arms are trembling by the time he is buried to the hilt and he swears that he can’t breathe. The sexy and playful moment turns serious and he can’t do anything more than to press his lips tenderly to yours again while he tries to give you time to adjust before he moves.

He pulls back, rolling his hips away from you as slowly as he had punished them forward, and you gasp into his kiss when he drives into you again - slightly faster but not with anything approaching speed. A languid pace gives you both time to find a rhythm together and your lips only leave his to kiss and nip along his jaw line while he moans in your ear.

He closes his eyes as he languidly rocks into you. Keeping the pace steady. “When you’re ready, let me know.” He murmurs slowly, feeling the exquisite pleasure of your walls squeezing him. “I want to hear you scream my name tonight.”

"More, baby." He knows damn well that you're not above begging, and your tone is borderline pleading even without needing to be. All you know is that you want to be completely overwhelmed by him. "Fuck, I-- please, Marcus, want you so bad."

“W-wrap your legs around me.” Marcus groans out, pushing to his elbows and grins at you. “And hang on.”

Curiosity has you following his instruction as much as anything else, and you shift under him just enough to have your ankles meet at the small of his back. Your hands grasping at his arms and shoulders will have to be enough to ‘hang on’ like you’ve been told.

He hums, pleased by your willingness to comply and he grins at you, devilish as he winks. “Now tell me if I need to slow down.” He says before he withdraws again and snaps his hips forward.

“Fuck!” Slow and steady is apparently not Marcus’s preferred pace, as he begins to pound into you with stamina that could only come from a Heroic. If his goal is really to have you screaming his name, you have a feeling it won’t take very long at all.

Grunting, Marcus reaches up to grab the headboard so it doesn’t beat against the wall. Forgetting that he had removed the spacers so it didn’t the last time he had rearranged the room. There hadn’t been any need for them for a long time. Now he just moans as your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as he keeps hammering into you.

The little crescent moon marks your nails are sure to leave behind don't seem to phase him in the least. Every thrust feels like he's splitting you open for the first time all over again, spearing into you until your head is thrown back on his pillows and you have one hand braced again the headboard so you don't hit your head with the way he's fucking you into the mattress.

“J-Jesus.” He hisses. “K-know how many times I-I imagined this?” He demands, pushing the air out of your lungs with every harsh roll of his hips. “Nearly every f-fucking day.”

"Me -- oh fuck -- too." It's as much as you can do to string a few words together right now and you keen when he drives into you again.

Every time his cock hits the spongy walls of your cunt, you moan for him. Making him ramp up his pace to near frantic and all he can do is pant out your name between breaths.

It hits you like a freight train when that second orgasm comes, without any chance to give him warning or do anything except cry his name into the night, the sound reverberating off the walls with the wet slap on skin on skin as Marcus fucks you through your peak with your cunt clenching down on him like a velvet fist.

“F-fuck, good girl.” Marcus moans, closing his eyes and thanking the Gods that he managed to last long enough for you to be able to cum. “Shit, baby.” He covers your mouth once more for a desperate kiss as he rocks into you half a dozen more times before he plunges deep and pulses inside you, the liquid heat of his pleasure filling you up.

He swallows your moans as he empties himself inside you, and when both of you breathe again it's with brilliant smiles on your faces even though all eyes stay closed for a long moment afterward. When you do open your eyes, you press soft kisses along his jaw and cheeks, finally dusting a few on his lips. "Holy shit," you giggle quietly, chest still heaving as you pant.

His quiet laugh matches yours in breathlessness and he nods. “What you said.” He huffs, deciding the thing to do would be to collapse against you and tuck his head into your neck to snuggle and breathe you on.

You wrap your arms around him, legs going slack as you both just sink down into his mattress together as one. "Hell of a first date," you chuckle, kissing his shoulder where you've left marks behind.

“Mmmhmm.” His smirk is pleased and tired against your neck. “When I can move again, I’ll run you a bath and get us some water.” He murmurs.

"If we don't both fall asleep first." It wouldn't bother you for a second if that's what happened. Passing out after sex with Marcus still inside you is high on the fantasy list.

“How do you know what I’m trying not to do?” Marcus grumbles playfully at you, kissing your pulse softly.

"Cause it's what I'm trying not to do," you giggle against his skin. "That's a hell of a workout."

“Yes it was.” His softening cock twitches inside you and he giggles slightly, feeling euphoric. “I’m very glad you aren’t my student anymore.”

______ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @hardc0rehaylz @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 

My Masterlist!

[0what-a-guy0]

I wrote harvey's ten heart event like a fic lol

Harvey x Farmer (gender neutral)

It is a little different than how the event goes, I am sorry I got creative but I think it's good

You held the note in your hands. Reading the paper over and over you tilt your head. With how frequently you had wandered into the clinic, whether you needed to be there or not) Harvey had never really written you a letter. He could usually just say whatever he needed to when you arrived at the clinic. You weren’t entirely sure what this would entail. 

You hadn’t exactly been subtle with your affection for the doctor. It wasn’t like you brought Sam a joja cola every single day. You didn’t look for Elliot amongst the rows and rows of shelves in the library. Harvey may have been a bit of an introvert but he was by no means clueless. He was a doctor for crying out loud! A very smart man!

…

Ok so maybe Harvey hadn’t picked up on how you felt. That didn’t mean someone else hadn’t told him. You went back into your small house, a sigh was pulled from between your lips. 

Your cat sprawled out, perched on your kitchen window sill, soaking the sunlight from the summer sun. His tail swung back and forth slowly. You smiled walking over to scratch behind his ears. His body rumbled as the low sound of his pur filled the small space of your home. 

The little guy was blissfully unaware of fear, anxiety, his only thought about his next meal. He moved his head to rub against your palm. You turn away checking your appearance in the mirror. Hair a mess, overalls stained with Yoba knows what all. You huff shoulders slumping over. You were supposed to meet the Doctor in twenty minutes…

Hair tamed with a little water and most of the stains rubbed out with a wet rag you start towards the railroad tracks. You can see him sitting on the steps of the train station, hands folded together, his heels digging into the dirt stretching his long legs. His expression was…intense. At the sound of your foot fall he looks up. 

Harvey already had somewhat fuller cheeks, it was hard not to kiss them as it was,but, as challenging as it was on a normal day it was harder when he smiled at you like that.  It was a full genuine grin, the kind that made your cheeks glow and ache. They even pushed up the frames of his glasses the slightest bit, it made your heart flutter. 

He stands, dusting his slacks off before making his way towards you.

 “There you are!” He exclaims long strides meeting yours. 

“Yeah! I got your note… what was it for?” You try so, so hard to keep your nerves steeled no matter what. He seemed happy. That was a good sign. He chuckles tugging at his tie, “Well I saw this ad in the paper..” His eyes move over your shoulder, as he speaks, “There it is!” He says watching the skies. 

You swallow following his eye line, there approaching was a patchy (somewhat sketchy) baby blue air balloon. Your stomach flips as you watch the balloon’s basket touch the ground. The owner ties it down, turning to Harvey to discuss its mechanics.  You don’t hear them. You are, frankly, still confused. 

“Harvey what's going on?” You ask as the original pilot of the balloon walks away. 

The doctor turns to you face flushed as he speaks, “I saw an ad for balloon rentals in the paper, I thought we could try it.” 

Alarm bells are ringing in your head as he speaks. You can see the signs of it even now. The slight tremble in his hands as he looks at the balloon and the skies. He tugs at his tie once more. You want to ask him about his fear, you want to be reasonable about how this will go. 

But,

There underneath his fear, is his passion, that glimmer of hope and excitement in his eyes. The way he smiles as he runs a hand over the basket. He turns to you still waiting for your response. 

You know that reasonably this won’t go how he hopes. 

But how could you deny him this?

“Sounds like fun!”

The basket is awkwardly tall, which you guess you’ll be grateful for when you are actually up in the air. You place your hands on the rim pushing up to try and get yourself, struggling as you do. Harvey chuckles as your face begins to turn red. 

“Here let me..” His voice trails off as he lifts you, turning so your feet are in the basket and your hips hover over the rim. He lowers you so you can slide into the basket the rest of the way, before hopping into the ride himself. 

You look around the insides of the balloon as Harvey begins to mess with the wires and ropes. Your breath hitches, you feel weightless and the ground starts to shrink away. You’ve taken off. 

You are breathless as you float into the sky. Blue’s blending into purples and pinks. The summer air warming your skin as you look out over your small home of Pelican Town, “Harvey look theres the..” You look to your left the doctor no longer by your side. You feel panic bubbling in your chest. “Harvey?” You call looking left and right. You look down to the city again. You aren’t sure what to do, when you feel a tug at your overalls, “Down here.” 

His voice was so small, you look down seeing the man curled in on himself pressed against the wall of the basket, his eyes are squeeze tightly and his knees fit under his chin. Your heart breaks and you sink to your knees, “Oh, Harvey..” You whisper, extending a hand towards the trembling ball.  

“I’m so sorry..” His voice breaks and your hand freezes in the air, “I wanted to impress you…now look I’m.. I-” his voice wobbles as he tucks his head to his knees, his voice is muffled but you can still hear him, “I’m a coward.” 

Your heart is in your throat as you place your hand to his knee, thumb stroking back and forth as you shuffle towards him. 

“Don’t say that about yourself-”

“But i-”

“Don’t.” You warn. He looks at you over his glasses, hair falling to cover his eyes. Your other hand brushes his bangs away and you gaze into warm brown eyes. “Harvey, it took courage to even get up here. It took courage to try.” You smile at him as he looks at you, pitifully. “I’m proud of you for even trying Harv.” You whisper, cheeks flushing as you tuck his hair back and taking one of his hands. He sits up a little taller looking back at you. 

He laughs just a little, “You’ve got enough courage for us both, that's…” he pauses, eyes turning to his lap, “It’s one of the things I like about you.” 

You freeze, swallowing, trying to understand what he means. If he means it to the extent you would. “I’m gonna look..” he says voice more steady, more determined. There is a glint in his eyes as he stares at his knees. 

He looks back to you, gaze softening, “Please don’t let go.” He squeezes your hand to emphasize his point, you lace your fingers together, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He takes a shuddering breath as he rises to his feet. His grip, tight. You squeeze his hand in return. He glances down, shoulders rising as he becomes infinitely more intense. You look at him for a moment, certain that you were about to witness the first human implosion. You gingerly lay a hand on his bicep and he turns to you with his eyes wide. You make eye contact and he exhales, shaking as he does. He looks back over the skies, breathing in, breathing out. 

His grip becomes loose and he chuckles. It very quickly becomes a laugh as he looked over the skies, he laughs hard before turning back to you..

“I’m doing it!” He exclaims taking both your hands. You smile wide, flushing. He pivots looking around the skies with an enthusiasm you hadn’t seen since he’d made contact with a pilot. “There's the clinic! The mayor's house! Your farm!” He cries watching your small town in the light of sunset. 

Your heart could burst, watching the doctor. His face has gone red as the air of the skies nips at his nose and cheeks. His hair blows in the wind and he clutches at his glasses. You look at the town beneath you. 

“It’s so pretty.” You whisper and he hums in response, “It’s incredible.”

His hand squeezes yours and you turn to face him. “I’m glad that I finally got to experience this.”  You smile, “it was about time.” 

He searches your face, swallowing as he looks at you. “I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for you.” You sigh rolling your eyes, “Harvey you need to give yourself more credi-” 

“No,” His voice is firm, hand cupping your cheek, “I wouldn’t have done this if it weren’t for you.” Your heart stops, your cheeks warm from more than just his palm.

 “Harvey-” He leans forward pressing his lips to yours. 

Slow and intentional, meticulous in everything he does. Harvey kisses you. It’s just a press. Your pulse quickening in your chest. His mustache tickles as you smile wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him back down to you when he tries to pull away. You stand on your toes, brushing your nose against his. 

“I like you,” He whispers, his voice a low rumble in his chest as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

His phone vibrates and he pulls away, despondent. Marcello screeches on the other end and Harvey grimaces, holding the phone away from his ear. He looks at you bashfully. “Whoops?”

[radiant-reid]

Heeey cate!

How’s life?

I really love the last two stories, amazing!!!

Can I request a blurb with Spencer dirty talking but like in a sweet way about their sex life and it’s like a super common way out of nowhere?

Please and thank you.

You are amazing, I hope everything is good.

good !! i hope you're good too <3 i'm not sure i got this write but i hope it's okay

for him ^^ because he seems like a tease. also a perv in a sweet way

Cuddling with Spencer always goes one way, and it's what you should have remembered when you agreed to watch an episode of TV with him when you really needed to shower so you could go out.

His grabby hands are just too convincing. Hands that are now firmly on your ass.

"Spence, I've got to get up." You tell him, trying to wiggle out of your grip.

He doesn't get you, holding you tighter to his chest. "No." He whines. "You're usually so good at following my orders."

"Not when your orders are going to make me late." You dispute, trying to pry his hands off your body. "Babe, come on."

He hates it when you call him that, and in protest, he smacks your ass with one of his large palms.

"You wanted to go out." You remind him.

It doesn't get you anywhere, and Spencer flips you completely over so your body is resting against the leather in one smooth motion. "Still got a smart mouth now?"

You answer him honestly, with no regard for the compromised position. "Yup."

"Good girl." He says, leaning down to kiss you. It devolves into something dirtier, lips parting and tongues slipping into each other's mouths.

When you pull back, you have to hold a hand over your lips so he doesn't continue. "Okay, we actually need to stop before we're late." You remind him.

Spencer concedes only when you threaten to kick him in the knee, letting you get up off him. "Can I come?"

"Shower with me?" He confirms what you're asking him to clarify by nodding. "No." He pouts, and you remind him why you've made your decision. "We won't leave this apartment if I let you."

"That's what you want though." He tries to convince you.

You laugh at him, shaking your head. "I'd actually like to shower in peace, and in warm water not freezing cold."

"True, I don't want to shower with you." He changes his mind, but he's smirking. "It's always way too hot."

You use your profiling talents on him for a moment, narrowing your eyes at him. "Are you trying to reverse psychology me?"

His laugh gives him away, and you throw a pillow at him in protest before leaving to take your shower and get ready.

You're standing in front of the mirror with your sundress on when Spencer walks into the room, changed into something fancier than his sweatpants and t-shirt.

"I like this one." He tells you, walking over and holding your hips. "Remember when you wore this that other time and I fucked you in Rossi's bathroom twice in the same night?" It's kind of a hard thing to forget. "You look so stunning. Then and now."

Clearly, he's set on giving you whiplash, telling you dirty things in his sweet tone, and you're more than ready to tease him back. "That might have been why I wore it." You inform him deviously, smirking at him.

Tonight was going to be fun.

[fandoms--fluff]

Could you make a story with Josie Saltzman and fem reader where they’re supposed to study together buy reader keeps getting distracted or about literally anything you want.

Focus Is The Key

Flufftober, October 12th

Female witch reader x Josie Saltzman

Warnings: swearing?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Uggghhhh, why am I doing this!?" you complain to your best friend and slump in your chair, closing your textbook. "Because we need to study, you especially" Josie, raises an eyebrow.

"Hey! I know what we're doing in science" You cross your arms, pouting. "Y/n/n, we're studying medieval witchcraft" Josie chuckles at your mouth hanging open.

"Wait, I'm in medieval witchcraft? When the hell did that happen?" You flip through the textbook. After twenty seconds, you shut it again, groaning. "Oh, screw this!" You exclaim and lay your head in your arms, on the table.

"It's going to be okay, Hon" Josie rubs a hand in circles on your shoulder. You groan again.

"When did I even choose to take this stupid class?" Your voice I'd muffled by your sleeve covered arm. "You didn't, this is what happens when you don't hand in the form at the end of the year for what classes you want to take the next year" Josie says, knowing one hundred percent you threw that sheet in the recycling bin the day after you got it without reading it.

"Well that explains my wack of a schedule. And how I'm in more classes with your twin than you. Like no offense, but Lizzie drives me insane sometimes" you tilted your head up. "None taken" Josie quietly snickers.

"I take offense" a familiar voice calls from behind you guys. "I'll zap you" You glare at her. She immediately nods and backs out of the room.

"Someone's grumpy today" Josie says. "Well you should be used to it by now and I know you love me" you give a sarcastic smile. "...wait, you're telling me you willingly chose to take this class?!" You exclaim.

"Y/n/n." "What?" "Work!" Josie says, opening your textbook back up. You guys have a quiz tomorrow, and even though your really smart, Josie knows you need a push to actually do the boring studying part on classes your iffy about.

"Okay, okay" you give in and start reading the page.

"Ooh, can I braid your hair?" You perk up, getting sidetracked. Josie's about to deny you, but then realizes that maybe if your hands are working, then she can quiz you about the subject.

"Okay, but nothing fancy" she points her pencil at you. "Got it" you stand and walk behind where she's sat.

You run your hands through her silky hair and split it into two parts. You start braiding her hair on the left first. Now that your hands are busy, she starts to ask you questions.

"What's the difference between the herbs they used then vs what we use now to cast a binding spell" Josie raises an eyebrow, starting off with something simple.

"Trick question, we use the same plants and herbs today for binding spells as they did back then, the names had just changed over time" you answer, not thinking about it.

"Hmm, okay great..." Josie says and continues asking you questions as you braid two dutch braids into her hair.

After twenty minutes of her asking questions and you answering. At the same time, you doing her hair, you get through a lot on the subject bases.

"And, done" you tell her, tying the last hair tie into her hair. You casted a tiny spell to get two of them to appear in your hand a bit ago.

You also now make a mirror appear in your hand and show her how her hair looks. "Wow, you did a good job, thanks" she kisses your cheek before you sit back down.

"And you know what?" "What?" You tilt your head.

"You're way smarter than you make it seem" she tells you. You gasp in offense, "you better take that back right now." You place your hand on your chest in faux agony about her comment.

"Okay, how about I make up for it by having a movie night?" She smirks, knowing that gets you every time. "You're on" you throw tbe unnecessary heavy textbook back into your bag.