#Them taking off their shirt to dive into a body of water to retrieve something thinking they look hot

[monst]

The universe scheming for a character not to confess is the funniest crack fic thing ever and I need more of it.

[erodasfishtacos]

omg we know how YN is about mlbrry’s short shorts but I want to know if there’s something she wears out that makes H absolutely feral

Hot As They Come

prompt: this mini blurb turned into something else completely

warnings: body issues, smut

if you liked please reblog, recommended, like, and come talk to me about it! (this is what motivates me to continue writing)!

i write for FREE - I am also trying to steer away from paetron so everyone can have access my stories - so if you would like to support my work, you can donate here.

——

He’s a narcissist, so anytime she has his jersey on.

They all were staying at Anne’s lake house (that Harry had purchased her) in Rhode Island for the long weekend - Easton, Cash, and Ezra were in the pool being vigilantly watched by Anne and her friend, Martha when Harry arrives.

He had to fly home from a stretch of games in San Diego, then get in the car, and drive three hours to get to his family.

YN had been inside, laying down with Briar for a nap, having the all fours kids had been exhausting these past two days - plus Briar was freshly one and still had some painful teeth coming in.

When he opens the back gate, he’s automatically met with squeals and whines when his kids realizes he’s finally there.

They’re all floating in the pool with their float vests on, except for Easton who was old enough not to have one.

Chants of ‘daddy’ echo through the backyard as they wave him closer.

Harry being a big child at heart, drops his suitcase, and kicks off his trainers and socks, then his shirt before he’s running towards the pool and cannonballing into the deep end, away from the kids.

When he pops up, hair matted to his head, all of them are giggling wildly - including Anne and Martha as Harry dives back under to pop up near his kids to make them scream in surprise and joy.

The two boys are automatically climbing all over him and he waste no time in tossing them high into the air before they’re sinking into the water.

A whimper comes from his right, near the steps, “Daddy, daddy.”

Harry takes a break from the boys to pout out his bottom lip and swim over to his little boy, scooping him up and wading back into the water.

“Hi bubba, missed you so much,” Harry tells him as he lays his head on his shoulder, sleepy and most likely ready for his own nap.

“Miss you,” He lisps back before his hand is coming up to play with the gold cross on his necklace and tucking his thumb between his lips.

“Mum, where’s YN?” He asks as he drifts towards the edge near where Anne is sat with her feet in the water.

“Inside, she’s taking a nap with Briar,” Anne replies before taking a sip of her own homemade lemonade and swishing her toes.

“Was she tired?” Harry frowns, guilt sinking into his stomach - he knew she had been stressed having to tote all four kids in the car for multiple hours.

She would also lie and tell Harry everything went fine because she didn’t want him to feel bad that he wasn’t there.

“Very. She said that Briar and Ezra were giving her a hard time on the way up. She said Briar’s teeth are coming in and she kept her up all last night,” Anne reports before adding on, “They’ve been asleep for a good three hours so hopefully they feel refreshed when they wake up.”

Harry tries to not internalize it and has to remind himself he’s not a terrible husband or father but he hates when he’s away.

The boys grab his attention again, demanding their father watch them do handstands and swim to the bottom to retrieve dive batons.

All the while, Ezra makes himself comfortable in his dad’s arms and he had removed his life vest so he was more comfortable when he naps against his warm skin.

Harry’s turning quickly when he hears the back door open and his heart jumps like a schoolboy when he sees his wife step onto the patio with his newest little baby just in a swim diaper on her plush hip.

He has to swallow hard when he scans her body, a simple black bikini on with one of his unbuttoned jerseys that’s down to her mid thigh.

She doesn’t even realize how sexy she looks is the thing, he knows she put it on to cover her body a bit more because she’s still a bit self-conscious of some baby weight.

However, he’s basically drooling, the extra weight around her hips, thighs, tummy - decorated with light stretch marks.

Harry hasn’t seen a more beautiful woman in his life.

He wants to bite that soft skin, licks those marks from where her body stretch to accommodate their chunky bubs.

Briar, who’s just learning basic words, squeaks out an excited, “Dadadada.”

Harry wades towards the shallow end where Anne’s waiting to carefully wrap Ezra in a towel while he sleeps, his mother then takes the little boy for a snuggle in the shade.

“Dadada,” Briar continues to whine with a pitiful pout on her face as she makes grabby hands towards her father.

“Oh, hi there, lil’ mama. I missed you so much, little love,” Harry hums as soon as YN shifts the baby into his arms and Briar’s pulling at her dad’s wet locks.

“Dada,” She coos back as Harry winces at the tugs to his hair and his eyes twinkling as he looks at his wife who’s smiling back.

“Hi mama,” Harry murmurs softly as he rocks Briar on his hip, his other hand reaching out to cup her jaw and bring her in for a long kiss.

“Missed you,” YN replies quietly, a bit of sadness and stress in her voice as she runs her hand down his side and squeezes his hip.

“I’m sorry, darling,” He replies back, just as quietly, and moves to kiss her forehead, “You’re such an amazing wife and mama. I appreciate everything you do for this family.”

A crease forms between her eyebrows, lips turned down a bit, “You’re the one who provides for us.”

Harry makes sure they’re making eye contact when he tells her, “What I do for this family is nothing compared to what you provide us.”

“I love you,” YN sighs, leaning over for another quick kiss and adds, “I know you feel guilty but please don’t. I knew what I was agreeing to when we had four kids.”

“Not the first time,” He chuckles, looking fondly back at Easton, who was now seven which was crazy, and thriving.

“Mm, he was just our favorite surprise. Wouldn’t change it for anything,” She replies with a warm smile, leaning over to kiss Briar’s cheek and she lets out the bubbliest giggle.

Martha steps over to them, arms outstretched, “Okay parents, time to share this little muffin with the rest of us.”

Harry slips Briar into the crook of her arm and she goes easily, lounging back and tucking her pacifier that was in her small fist this whole time back into her mouth.

“You look so fuckin’ hot,” Harry hums lowly now that all the babies were out of earshot, his hands coming to her hips.

YN scowls at him, stiff and frustrated when she grits out, “You don’t have to lie to me just because you’re my husband.”

Harry gets defensive instantly, “What would I be lyin’ about?”

“I know I don’t look hot. It’s my first time in a bikini since I had Briar. My stomach is still puffy, my love handles, not to mention my boobs from breastfeeding four kids,” She huffs like it’s obvious as she pinches at skin in her hip.

“Come on, now,” Harry says firmly to her, authority and demand in his voice which wasn’t common for him to take that tone with her, “Mum, you guys okay with watching them for a few?”

Anne waves them off and tells them to enjoy a few minutes alone, they have everything handled.

“Wha-“ YN begins to ask as Harry wraps his hand around her wrist and guides her back into the house, back into their room, and clicks the lock shut.

“Don’t you dare ever insult the body that gave us our four perfect, healthy babies. The body that I fell in love with and am still madly gone for,” Harry nearly hisses as he’s tugging the jersey off of her shoulders until it pools on the ground.

“Harry, I-“

“Just listen to me, would you?” He cuts her off as he kneels in front of her, lips moving over the silky smooth skin of her stomach.

“Love this belly,” Harry praises, kissing, licking, biting at the sensitive skin that has fully went back to normal, “Obsessed with it even. Everything about you gets me hard. I love how you look, I love that you have this, reminds me of what a strong woman you are.”

YN feels embarrassed that she’s getting emotional at his kind words, they were so sincere and reverent that there was no question he meant them.

“These love handles?” Harry scoffs as his large hands grip the extra plush of her hips, “Do you know how sexy it is? Love holding onto them when you ride me.”

His voice had gotten noticeably deeper and gravely with his arousal, standing up and moving to untie her top - letting her breasts falls from where they were held up to appear more perky.

“Don’t get me started on your tits,” He groans as he thumbs at her nipples, being carefully because they were sore from feeding Briar, “Fuckin’ beauties. I remember the first time I got to see ‘em. Swear that was more memorable than when I got drafted. You think I’m gonna complain that they got bigger? You’re crazy.”

YN giggles at that, especially when he gives her a cheeky smile and presses himself against her so he can kiss her again.

His hands go to the ties of her bottoms on each hip, playing with the string as he whispers, “Please let me take these off and ‘ave you. I’ve been starving for it, mama.”

“It’s been a week,” YN chuckles as she bumps there noses - already feeling better about herself, feel more empowered and sexy, “If you’re so hard up, maybe I should help you out.”

“It’s about you. You don’t have to if you don’t- fuckin’ hell, doll,” Harry moans when his damp athletic shorts and briefs are pulled down and YN is kneeling to lick at the bottom side of his hard length.

A thrill shoots about her spine for her husband’s reaction to her mouth, his hands weaving into her locks, and whimpering, “C’mon baby, take me. Can’t be teased right now or I’m gonna come so fast for you.”

“For me?” YN parrots with a mischievous smirk as she pumps him, he’s almost too big for her palm and she loved that.

“F’course, you’re the only thing that makes me come. Whether you’re right in front of me or if m’in my hotel room thinking about you,” Harry pants sweetly, still letting her make the calls when she doesn’t listen and continues to just lap at his dripping tip.

“Best husband,” YN praises him as her hands come up to roll his balls with her thumb, making his cock twitch in her hand.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Harry grunts after another minute or so, he’s leaning down and pulling her up before he’s picking her up and throwing her own the bed as she yelps in surprise, “Give me tha’ cunt.”

YN spreads her legs immediately and Harry is nearly ripping the bottoms off of her lower half before his face is buried between her thick thighs, sucking harshly at her clit as payback.

“Ba-baby,” YN whines in a kittenish tone, pushing her hips up into his mouth to ride his tone to chase her pleasure, “Wha-no!”

YN complains when he pulls back, crudely wiping his mouth on her belly before leaning down and cleaning up her slickness with his tongue.

“Shush up, we don’t have much time. We got four little buggers out there, s’only a matter of time before one of them causes trouble,” Harry quips as he wriggles her bum up off the bed and wrapping her legs around his waist so he can fuck in.

“There,” She moans quietly a few seconds in when he angles just so that his cock is hitting the spot that sets her afire and then he adds a thumb to her clit for extra stimulation.

“Yeah, I know,” He murmurs cockily, fingers dimpling the skin where he’s holding on to her upper thighs as he pushes his narrow hips into her center over and over again.

Harry nearly comes on the spot when YN redirects on of her hands to her throat, she doesn’t have to say anything before Harry’s gripping at the sides of her neck with his fingers.

“How could you think that you’re not perfect? You’re as hot as they come,” Harry tells her as her limbs loosen and she climaxes, he lets go of the pressure on her throat and follows suit.

“I love you,” YN hums when he collapses on top of her, “Welcome home. You played amazing in San Diego.”

“I love you more,” Harry replies as he smatters kisses along her cheeks, “Those guys were a buncha of ass-“

The both turn their heads when they hear echoing through the backyard a wail that was no doubt Cash because Easton wasn’t sharing a water toy.

“It was fun while it lasted,” YN snickers as they roll of the bed and begin to redress so that they can go back out and take over parenting duties.

-

[cursestothemoon]

I’m so excited your requests are open!!! Can I request a blurb of rough sex with Charlie where he throws around and manhandles his girlfriend (it’s all safe and consensual). I just know he’s a bit burly dude who would have no problem picking up his girlfriend with one arm

Watch Your Mouth

C.W. x FEM!READER

17+ IF YOU ARE TAGGED AND DON’T WANT TO BE TAGGED IN SMUT PLEASE LET ME KNOW

warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), vaginal penetration, manhandling, size kink, tummy bulge, praise kink, sub!reader/dom!Charlie, mentions of edging, spanking, overstimulation, UNPROTECTED SEX (wrap it before you tap it), kind of subspace (nothing too intense), also unedited because i am lazy ✋🏻😔

“But it hurts.” You whined into your boyfriend's ear.

Subtlety was fading fast in your act, after Charlie spent all night last night teasing you with the idea of an orgasm but never actually letting you get there you were far past the point of just horny.

Charlie placed a warning hand on your thigh, fingers gripping the flesh tight enough to have you squirming, “Eat your food and behave.”

His tone was husky, whispers harsh as he tried to keep you at bay in front of his family. Perhaps dinner at the Weasley’s- a usual Friday event- wasn’t the best place to start acting up but really it was Charlie’s fault. He had to have known his teasing would result in something of this sort.

You also knew his hand could be heavy when he wanted it to be, spanks from Charlie always left a mark that could be felt for days following. So you listened to him, quietly picking at your roast as your mind wandered to what might be in store for you once you two got home.

“Yeah, better get going, it’s getting rather late.” Charlie announced as he stood up from the couch, your hand in his.

You had to restrain from vibrating with excitement as you stood up next to Charlie, your head barely reaching his broad shoulders.

Everyone bid farewell to you two, a longer exchange than you would’ve liked but you managed. Finally Charlie pulled you into his side, tucking you under his arm as he appareled you two to your flat- after the war he wanted to move closer to his family and you had no complaints.

Leaning on the hardwood floor of your living room, you stumbled a bit only to be grabbed by Charlie. His arm wrapping around your waist to lift you up and off your feet, carrying you to the bedroom. He grunted through the doorframe, making sure he wasn’t going to hit your head on the wall as he passed through before tossing you onto the bed. Upon hitting the mattress your body bounced roughly, only adding fuel to the fire of your excitement.

Charlie pulled his boots off hastily, hands moving to unbutton his shirt and fling it somewhere in the room to be retrieved later for you to wear. In just a pair of tight black boxer briefs and a single silver chain dangling between his pecs, a dragon tooth at the end.

You watched him with wide eyes, breath hitching as he grabbed your hips and flipped you over with ease. His palm, open and heavy, rested on your plump backside. You panicked, trying to turn around to face him, because you knew what that meant but you thought you had been a good girl.

“But I was good.” You whined trying to move your butt away from him.

He tutted, pulling your hips back to where they were, “You were good...after I had to tell you to behave, and now you’re questioning me.”

“Because I was good. If you hadn’t been mean, not letting me cum, then I wouldn’t have been so needy. S’your fault.”

The silence was deafening and you realized you should’ve kept your mouth shut.

“My fault?” Charlie questioned, his voice unnervingly calm.

You shook your head quickly, trying to back track as best you could, “No, no no, I didn’t- I’m sorry, I’m your good girl, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “My good girl wouldn’t blame me for her being a horny slag. My good girl wouldn’t question my authority. My good girl would take her punishment, but no. You just had to open your mouth, didn’t you?”

Charlie didn’t give you a chance to respond, instead grabbing the material of your tights and quite literally tearing them apart, exposing your g-string and soaking cunt. He continued to rip and tear your tights until whatever was left didn’t have enough structure to stay on, he picked up the pieces and tossed them to the floor before roughly tugging your shirt and bra off. 

There was a moment of silence again, as Charlie adjusted the rings on his fingers. You barely allowed yourself to calm down before he was sitting on the edge of the bed, grabbing you by the waist to roughly pull you across his lap. The action made you squeal, your legs kicking up in an attempt to stall the punishment that was coming. He wasn’t having it, forcing your legs under his thick thigh to keep them out of the way before playing with the thin string that made up the back of your thong. You let out a muffled whine as he pulled on it, lifting it up and making the front of your panties rub against your throbbing clit then letting it go, snapping it against your skin.

“Only thing I wanna hear out of your mouth are apologies after every swat. Understood?” He asked, hand running across the globes of your ass.

You nodded, not wanting to anger him further.

“So you do know how to watch your fucking mouth, good.”

You had little time to prepare before his hand came down onto your backside with a painful sting sending pools of arousal straight to your core.

“I’m sorry, Charlie.”

Another swat hit your warm flesh, then another, and another. With each slap apologies fell passed your lips along with muffled cries, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

Forty spanks later your butt was beet red and practically numb, his ring clad hand massaging the raw skin making you whimper. He dipped his hand down to your core, running two fingers up your slit collecting your juices before teasing your entrance making you jolt. His other arm came down to keep you still as his fingers entered you, making your walls clench. You bit your lip, trying to suppress the moans as he started to thrust his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace, alternating between fast thrusts and massaging the spongey spot that made your vision go fuzzy.

You gripped his calf tightly as your orgasm neared, your legs started shaking and you could only hope he’d let you finally get off. Only you weren’t so lucky, Charlie pulled his hand away quickly watching as you writhed around in his lap.

“You wanna cum? I’ll make you cum until you’re begging me to stop.”

His hand dove back in between your legs, this time with an unbelievably fast pace making you let out loud, wanton cries. Charlie’s arm pressed down on your hips firmly, giving you no wiggle room as your toes curled and eyes screwed shut, orgasm hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You were shoved onto the bed as you heaved, Charlie having no trouble moving your from place to place without your cooperation. He got down on his knees, eye level with your pussy clenching pathetically around nothing.

Making sure you were still sensitive from your first climax, he was quick to dive into your weeping cunt. Tongue lapping at your glistening folds and nose nudging your clit, your twitching was uncontrollable as he was relentless with his mouth. Your hands tangled themselves in his deliciously wavy red mane as his copper beard rubbed the insides of your thighs raw.

You were unable to form coherent sentences, choked cries, waterlogged moans, and desperate pleas were the only things leaving your lips. Charlie gripped your thighs tightly, keeping them open after they had started to close around his head. You came again, loud sobs sounding through the room as he continued his torturous lapping at your cunt only to pull away seconds after your second orgasm hit you to aggressively rub at your clit.

“Go on, cum, you were begging for this.”

The back and forth motion only got faster as you tried to close your thighs and push his hand away, a third orgasm washing over you before you could even realize. Charlie pulled his hand away after giving your clit a harsh slap making you cry out again. 

Charlie took his time peeling off his briefs, his prick taut against his abdomen with precum leaking from the mouth watering tip. He had always had a rather gorgeous cock, the lively red of the spongey head contrasting the creamy beige of the shaft had you clenching your legs in need. You’d never say no to that no matter how worn out or sensitive you were, he was just far too beautiful. But the sheer size alone had excited nerves mixing in your belly, regardless of how often you’ve seen him nude. His tip was dangerously close to his navel, and not only was he gifted with length but his veiny cock was girthy- never failing to stretch your aching pussy out just how you liked it. 

You watched as his hand gave a few languid strokes to himself before your eyes traveled over the expanse of his torso. His skin was dappled with countless freckles and a few scars scattered here and there from misbehaving dragons or rowdy brothers, most of the time his sheer size as a human had your walls convulsing. Charlie was big, he was tall but by no means lanky, his thighs were deliciously thick along with his biceps, his entire being painted in the likeness of Norse mythology’s Thor. 

“How cute, my little girl is staring.” Charlie teased, hand abandoning his cock and coming closer to you on the bed again. 

He gripped your hips with his large hands, pulling you up onto your knees with your ass in the air. You were too tired to hold your head up, opting to rest it on the mattress instead as you watched Charlie - as best you could from this position- as he paced a hand on the still raw skin of your backside. You didn’t need a mirror to know that a few visible handprints would be left on the skin for a while. The cool feeling of his hand on the skin made you jolt forward, but Charlie hunched over carefully and placed a handful of feathery kisses on the tender skin- you could’ve sworn the pain started to subside immediately at the contact. 

You whimpered as you felt him start to prod at your entrance, he chuckled at the way you wiggled your butt back into him hoping for more. Giving you what you wanted, he pushed in all the way, careful to go slow keeping in mind that he was rather large. 

“Look at you, taking m’cock so well.” He grunted, bottoming out. 

Cries emitted from your parted lips as you nodded into the sheets, words and sentences long gone as he started to thrust. You knew what was in store, and it only made your moans and chants of Charlie that much louder. It was no secret he had stamina, a product of his insatiable libido was usually you getting to cum twice before Charlie even thought of filling you up himself. Seeing as tonight you had already trembled through two, four and five seemed a bit daunting- but you need it. 

He quickened his pace, eagerly thrusting into your tight cunt as his voice started to crack with each grunt and groan before looping an arm around your midsection and pulling your back flush against his chest. The new position had your head lulling back, pornographic moans crooning from your mouth and into his neck. Your hand came up to make its way the back of Charlie’s head, fingers carding through the copper curls at the nape of his neck as his hips snapped up into you at a hellish pace. His hand, the one not occupied with holding you up, moved to rest on your lower belly wanting to feel the way your tummy bulged with each of his thrusts. You were so tiny compared to him, so dainty, and it made his thrusts get that much harder.

His breath fanned over your ear and neck as he spoke huskily, “Such a tight little cunt f’me, can feel my cock in your belly.”

You hummed in response, his hand pulling yours down to rest where his was just moments before. The outline of his dick, each time he thrusted, running up the inside of your palm making you clench around him. 

“S’like I’m gonna slit you in two, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

With pathetic cries and nods you answered, “Yes, want you t’split me in two, need it.”

Orgasm number four hit you before you could even register what was happening but Charlie didn’t slow his thrusts, instead dropping a hand to your pulsing clit to rub rough circles and the engorged nub. His other hand, still holding you up, shifted so he could grab a handful of your breast, pinching and pulling at your erect nipples as best he could while he kept you upright. The overstimulation had you seeing stars, orgasm number five was already knocking on your door ready to come barreling in. At some point, your not sure when seeing as your mind was foggy from your fast approaching orgasm, Charlie had doubled over with your body firmly held in his arms as his hips continued to thrust into your weeping pussy at lightning speed, your back still held tightly against his chest only now your chin was hitting the mattress with each rough thrust. 

You could register the stuttering of his thrusts meaning he was nearing his own release and you could finally let go for a fifth time. The weight of his body on top of yours mixed in with his forearm pressing into your abdomen and fingers massaging your clit while his balls were slapping against your glistening and used pussy had your body trembling uncontrollably in his grasp. Charlie gave a choked moan of your name as he finished deep inside you, your body spasming along with the walls of your cunt as you came with him. 

Charlie held you to his chest still, but shifted so he was now on his side and you were no longer taking any of his weight. Slowly he went to pull out of you, making you whimper at the feeling, your over used cunt far too sensitive for the movement.

“Shh, you’re ok,” He cooed, gentling running a palm down the side of your face and through your hair. “Gotta get you cleaned up, yeah? Then I want my best girl’s cuddles, ok?”

His voice was gently, coaxing you to open your eyes and look at him as you answered with a feeble nod, “Ok, then cuddles...” you murmured.

tags:

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinblack003

@maybesandohnos

[foli-vora]

reflections

masterlist

A/N: I’m back, baby! This is completely self indulgent because I’m feeling shitty about my bod, who better to help than certified soft boi Marcus? This is dedicated to all the goddesses who sometimes struggle with remembering that they have the body of a bad bitch, regardless of what it looks like or what society tells you it should be. I love you.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: insecurities, body image issues, SMUT 18+ ONLY - body worship, unprotected p in v, I may have cried writing this no I won’t apologise

+

It was one of those days.

Your clothes didn’t feel right on your body, clumping in certain spots and hanging wrong everywhere else. The reflection in the bathroom mirror showed someone desperately trying to piece together what was left – a bit of extra serum here, a heavier swipe of makeup there, as if it would all come together in the end and you’d be able to walk around with your head held high.

It didn’t work.

How you landed Marcus Pike, you’ll never know, and it’s that thought that festers, ugly and unyielding, in your mind throughout the entire day and well into dinner.

He watches you from across the table as he eats, head tilting when he quickly catches onto the fact that you’re unusually quiet, reserved, curling in on yourself and pushing the food around your plate instead of enthusiastically diving in like you normally do when he cooks.

“Is everything okay?” His voice is soft, his gentle probing so much more different from previous partners and their passive aggressive ‘What’s wrong with you?’.

Your eyes find him, flickering across his face creased with concern, your stomach twisting uncomfortably as you force a little smile. It doesn’t sit right on your face. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

He knows you’re lying, knows from the sudden shine in your eyes that something’s bothering you, something’s hurting, but he lets it rest for now, sensing your discomfort from miles away and instead choosing to reach a hand across the table to fold softly over yours as he fills the silence with the goings on of his day.

You don’t eat.

He doesn’t comment on it.

He hides when he hears you tidying in the kitchen, thinking he was already getting ready for bed. He watches you swipe away the food on your plate with a quiet sniff, the back of your hand quickly catching a lone tear that streaks down your face, and then he knows.

You pull at your shirt, shift uncomfortably in your tight pants – his favourite – and he knows.

Heart breaking for you, Marcus makes sure to make a noise as he enters, smiling softly when you jump and laugh quietly. You force a smile, turning your back to him to start washing dishes when warm hands cover yours in the soapy water, a body pressing up close behind you.

“Take a shower with me?” He asks into the hot skin of your throat, kissing softly below your ear as he sways with your body gently. A habit of his – always swaying to music that isn’t there. The music of your love, he liked to say. The cheesy idiot.

You want to say no, he can feel it in the way your body tenses.

“I had one earlier.”

He leaves it, nodding against your cheek in understanding before kissing it softly and fading away upstairs. He takes your composure with him, and you can’t help but cry as you finish up the dishes.

You really don’t deserve him. He was far too good for you.

The ugly thought that had long settled in your mind, suddenly sprouts into something bigger. It fills you, the unworthiness, and your chest tightens as you fight off the heavier sobs, struggling to swallow around the lump lodged in your throat from the effort of keeping it all at bay. You’d save them for later, when he’s oblivious and lost in dreams.

You must have taken longer than you thought because he’s already pottering around the room in his pyjamas by the time you make your way upstairs, dark hair dripping small droplets of water onto the collar of his comfy tee. He never dries his hair properly. Usually you’d do it for him – cover his head with a towel and rub it vigorously until he’s unsteady, chest heaving from the laughter muffled by the fabric.

Not tonight.

He watches sadly as you retrieve your pyjamas and head for the bathroom, head downcast.

“Hey,”

You stop instantly, a small smile twisting your lips uncomfortably as you turn to raise a brow at him.

“Come here.”

When you get to him, he quickly steers you to the full-length mirror by the walk-in closet and shushes your quiet refusal, standing close to you as you both appear in the reflection.

“Look.” He says.

You frown at him in the reflection, “What?”

“Look.”

And so you do.

You can’t help the sting of more tears in your raw eyes as they roll over your body, automatically drawn in to the bits you don’t like and picking them to pieces in your mind. He watches intently, heart breaking even more in his chest with every second he watches resentment fill your features.

“You’re beautiful.”

Your head shakes. It’s automatic. Can’t he see out of those gorgeous brown eyes?

His voice remains gentle, “Stop it – look.”

His fingers gently fiddle with the hem of your shirt before he’s pulling it up, careful as he pries it from your body and slides it over your head. Your arms automatically go to cross over your chest, to cover the suddenly exposed skin, but he doesn’t have it.

“No.”

His hands are warm on your shoulders, palms soft as they rub soothingly up and down your arms, and you don’t bother hiding the sadness anymore. Why bother? He already knows.

“What were those affirmations from your new year resolution?”

You snort before you can help it. “They were bullshit –”

He didn’t think so. You were all about them for the first few weeks – writing them in your journal, saying them in the mirror while he watched from behind the shower curtain. You even made him write some down and they’re still stuck to the side of his computer screen in his office.

“What were they? And look at yourself when you say them.”

You heave a sigh, eyes rolling from his to meet your own in the reflection. “I am strong.”

He mhm’s softly into your neck, chin resting softly on your shoulder. “And?”

“I am powerful.”

“Incredibly so. And?”

“I am beautiful.”

“Yeah, you are. Now again.”

“Marcus –”

“Again.”

You do as he asks, heart thundering in your chest as his hands smooth down along your torso and across the skin of your stomach, wrapping you up in his arms as he watches you. He turns you once you finish, hand tenderly smoothing along your cheek before cupping your jaw.

“I know this won’t fix it, I know what you’re feeling goes deeper than this, and I know nothing I do will take your pain away, but will you let me try, honey?”

His thumbs sweep under your eyes, brushing away the tears that had fallen from your lashes, and you smile, heart thundering in your chest as he presses a tender kiss to your forehead.

You really didn’t deserve Marcus Pike, but God were you lucky.

“I love you.”

He grins, eyes shining, “I love you.”

A part of you says no, no he doesn’t, but then his hands gently cradle your face and bring your lips to his, and you’re lost in the slow movements of his kiss, unaware he was backing you up to the bed until the backs of your knees hit the sides and you’re falling back onto it with a startled giggle.

You try to fight off the wave of hesitation when he goes for the button of your jeans and relax, but he can feel your reluctance, always so attuned to you and what you were feeling. He pauses, fingers stopping their movements as he looks at you.

“It’s okay.” You don’t know why you’re whispering. It’s just so quiet in the bedroom, so still, maybe you were afraid of shattering the silence.

He continues then, slipping the button through the loop and pulling your fly down before he grabbing the denim and dragging it softly down your legs. You lift your hips, shimmy a little to get them past your thighs and smile at his soft expression when he settles on his knees between your legs after throwing your jeans to the floor.

There was something magical about being the sole focus of Marcus Pike’s attention. Your skin hums under his gentle touch, goosebumps following the path of his fingers as they dance softly over your body. You don’t shy away from his open gaze; don’t cross your arms over your chest and try to hide your thighs like your mind is screaming at you to do. You just simply lay among the pillows, letting his eyes crawl over every inch of you.

And there’s no disgust hiding anywhere on his face. No flicker of repulsion. No curl of the nose or judgement in his gaze.

It’s pure admiration, pure awe.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You want to scoff, you know that’s not the truth – the planet is full of drop-dead stunning women – but the longer he stares at you, looking all over your body and straight into your wide eyes, you think maybe he’s not lying… maybe there is a tiny bit of truth to his statement and, well, what’s the harm in believing it? If only just for a little while.

So you smile, heart beating wildly when he grins in return, eyes soft as he reaches back and pulls his tee off in one smooth swipe, and then moves to hover carefully over you. You welcome the soothing heat of his skin as he presses into you, hands greedily grabbing at his back as trails his lips across the skin of your jaw, nipping softly at your throat before he moves to your lips.

It’s easy to lose yourself in his steady stream of affection, your mind all but blanking as he steals the breath from your lungs, his tongue taking the last of any coherent thoughts as it moves along your own. He swallows your whimper and presses further into you, grinding his hips slowly into yours and relishing in your quiet moan.

He softly pulls away, keeping his voice low as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his question, and he smiles before kissing his way down your jaw, following the path to the curve of your shoulder to where the flesh of your breast melts from the cup of your bra.

He pauses, eyes flicking up to yours, “Still okay?”

You lift your chest to answer his question, one of his hands quick to whip around your body and undo the clasp before pulling it away from your completely. He inhales quietly, watching your breasts fall to a more natural position once free of the bra, and heat creeps along your ears the longer he stares, wandering hands moving to cup the soft flesh delicately.

A light sigh leaves you when his thumbs brush over your nipples, circling over the stiff peaks before he rips a surprised gasp from your lips. His fingers tickle the harsh sting of his pinch away before he envelopes a nipple into the wet heat of his mouth, tongue soothing any remaining pain. He moves to the other side, repeating his actions before pulling way to blow softly over the wet skin, chuckling quietly at the way you squirm under him.

He continues his slow journey downwards, but stops when he reaches your stomach. A part of you doesn’t want to look at him – what if he doesn’t like it? But then you’re reminded that he’s seen you naked hundreds of times, in all sorts of places and positions. Why would now be any different?

So you look at him, eyes following to where he rests comfortably between your thighs, gaze already trained on you with an air of soft fondness. He smiles when you look at him, and only when you look at him do you realise what patterns his fingers are tracing over your skin – he’s tracing your stretchmarks.

The sudden wave of apprehension is washed away when his lips trace over the shallow valleys in your skin, kissing along every single one he could see while his fingers continued running up and down your sides softly.

“Marcus,” you giggle, when he moves too close to the ticklish spot above your hip.

“What?” He asks innocently, a loud raspberry quickly cutting through the peace of the bedroom as he nuzzles into your side. You laugh louder, squirming against his hold and batting him away as he continues his attack. He glows when he sees the lazy smile stretching your features, no shadows hanging in the back of your eyes.

“Idiot.” You mutter affectionately, smile widening.

“Your idiot.”

His fingers trace over the waistband of your panties, waiting for your go ahead before they slide under the fabric and move them softly down your legs. He discards them off the side of the bed and hums lowly when your legs part under his gentle coaxing, eyes zeroing in on your folds shining with the arousal that had built from his tender ministrations.

“This okay?” He whispers, eyes watching the way your brow creases when he runs his fingers up and down your slit, his cock jumping in his pyjama bottoms when he feels your arousal coat his fingertips.

“Mhmm.” You relax into the pillows, eyes closing in bliss at the rhythmic circles he was rubbing over your clit. “Marcus?”

“Yeah honey?”

You knew where this was going, and as much as you adored his tongue and the absolute magic he could make with it, you just wanted him close. Your hands greedily grab at him, “Come ‘ere.”

He frowns, pouting as his fingers dip into your heat. “But I –”

“Not tonight. I just want you… please?”

He softens, nodding with a smile as he melts back over you, lips eagerly meeting with yours as you feel the weight of his body carefully press into you. He shimmies out of his pyjama bottoms, quick to settle back in between your legs and you exhale shakily as the head of his cock slides between your folds, a fire kickstarting in your stomach as he lazily drags his hips back and pushes forward until he runs his tip over your clit again and again.

His hand darts in between your bodies, fumbling to line himself up with your entrance as your lips work messily against his, throwing his thoughts into a complete jumble, and it’s not long until he’s sinking into you, bottoming out in your wet heat with a low groan. Your walls flutter deliciously around him and his hips jolt, before he’s rolling forward and starting a steady, unhurried pace.

“I love you,” he whispers as you pant below him, the slow drag of his hips against your clit as he grinds into you steadily building the fire in your core.

You can’t help the tears that build in your eyes, the intense power of his adoring gaze too much for your damaged heart to handle, but he doesn’t let you turn away, he won’t let you hide. His forehead meets yours, hands moving to intertwine tightly with yours as you breathe in the other, the slow pressure of his hips staying steady as your chest tightens from the sparkle in his dark eyes.

You put that sparkle there. You can see it now.

It was love.

Your love, his love –

It all morphed together in a wild frenzy of colours and sounds and everything was just right. Here now, with him, everything was right. There was no pain, no doubt… just pure devotion. Your heart struggles with the pressure of it all, chest threatening to surrender under the weight, but you welcome it eagerly, desperate to feel and breathe all of him as he moves over you.

The tears break free. “Marcus –”

“I know. I’ve got you, honey.”

“I love you,” you murmur, sniffing quietly as you wiggle a hand free to tangle into the damp locks at the back of his head to keep his forehead pressed against yours. His nose runs softly along your own and your heart squeezes at the sweet tenderness of it. “So fucking much –”

His face crumbles, completely unashamed as a wave of tears build in his own eyes, his own insecurities biting at the back of his mind, and he nods, pushing the shadows away and instead, nuzzling into you and your warmth.

“I know – almost as much as I love you.”

You share a watery smile, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek to collect the stray tear that falls free and then he’s moving, your hands winding to grab at his back as he picks up the pace, keeping the pressure of his hips rolling against your clit and you cry out quietly as your stomach tightens with the threat of your oncoming crash of pleasure.

He senses it, moves just that little more desperately against you, and then you’re shattering under him, eyes closing as fire floods your veins and rips through your body. He falls with you, his own end coaxed on by the sudden tightening off your hot walls and the rush of slick that floods him. He shudders above you, face pinching as he fills you, and you moan when you feel his cock twitch inside you.

You pull him to rest in your arms, head tucked comfortably in the curve of your shoulder as he huffs into your throat. You try to steady your own breathing, your heart beating wildly against your chest as the post-climax tingles settle into your limbs, your body melting into the bed as exhaustion rolls through you.

He’s gentle as he pulls out of you, carefully falling next to you, and watching you shift onto your side to face him with a languid smile.

His voice is barely a whisper, his fingers moving to find yours as his racing heart calms. “You really are incredible, honey.”

Heat crawls along your chest and fills your cheeks, “You’re not so bad yourself, Agent Pike.”

“Seriously,” he says quietly, “I wish you could see it.”

You swallow the sudden lump building in your throat, and you smile widely at him, filled with such a sudden wave of confidence you wish it would last. “One day I will.” And you know in your heart that it could be possible, it would be. “One day.”

+

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[fourmarkdove]

Fawn - Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

Title: Fawn - Part 5

Words: 2.1k

Summary: Plans to return to your ancestral home are halted by an accident that nearly costs your life. Angst. Hurt/comfort.

Pairing: Geralt x reader

Warnings: Suicidal ideation. If you’re triggered PLEASE skip ahead. Please check out the trigger warnings (tw:) in the tags!

A/N: I appreciate you sticking with me this far. Comments welcome. Thanks for reading as always!

The crack of thunder shook you awake from a dead sleep atop Roach. You gasped, lifting your head from the bicep you’d been using as a pillow for hours and bolted upright. 

“You’re safe,” Geralt soothed in a tone so deep that you felt the sound rumble in his chest pressed against your back. He’d tucked you completely inside of his cloak with him while the rain patted rhythmically on the fabric all around you. Although it was completely dark, your cheeks were so warm and the scent of leather and him was so comforting. Closing your eyes again, you settled back and felt his thumb stroke your hip indicating that’s exactly what he wanted you to do. The gentle motion of the horse under you and how his hips rolled with yours… you wanted to think more about it but you nuzzled against his bicep and were gone again in seconds.

“What’s she doing?” Jaskier asked hours later when your head poked out of the cloak swallowing your frame. Everything was now covered in a thin layer of white as the rain turned to snow. 

Geralt cocked his head to the side, amused by your attempts to catch snowflakes on your tongue.

“So thirsty,” you choked.

“Now how is that possible?” Jaskier complained, receiving a sharp side eye from the Witcher. “I’m just saying… she’s already had yours and mine.” 

The Bard was right. But you’d also used up every last drop of fluid in your body to expel the inky poison just the day before. And the elevation change couldn’t help. 

Inhaling deeply, he caught the scent of a nearby stream and tugged on the reins toward that direction.

The moment that Roach paused, you pushed aside the black cloak. You became completely enraptured by the tinkling sound of ice forming and breaking along the banks, the gentle rush of the water flowing over well worn rocks, and the sparkle of what little light reflected across the surface. This mesmerizing scene caused you to all but launch yourself at the ground and race towards it. 

Geralt caught around your hips mid-leap and dragged you back over his thick thigh to his solid chest with a ‘thump’, nearly knocking the wind out of you.

“Let me go!” you squealed, your hands attempting to pry his solid forearm away from your ribs. 

He grunted, tugging off his cloak and wrapped it around you. He didn’t say so out loud, but he was troubled by how long you slept, how quiet. You’d been draped over his forearm all day and barely woke a couple of times in a daze mewling for water before dropping again. Admittedly, he shifted his weight in the saddle more than once just to check and see if you’d wake and we’re still breathing.

Stepping down, the Witcher led his horse to drink and then lifted you down to sit at the edge as well. 

It didn’t take but a moment for you to scramble onto your stomach and reach out to touch the water, bringing your fingertips back to taste. 

Jaskier filled his water jug and frowned. “Mm… Geralt I think your friend here is still unwell.”

Clearing his throat, Geralt refocused the gaping bard.

“So what’s the plan then? Pause a moment here? Then move on to the next town? I don’t feel much like sleeping out here tonight.”

The Witcher huffed and shook his head. “Give her a moment; then we’ll see..”

As the two men talked, they didn’t see you lean forward and stretch your neck out to drink like Roach. The cool water tasted so good going down your parched throat, you just couldn’t get enough.

With a yelp and a splash, the powdery snow gave way and you slipped right into the frigid water, dragged under with his heavy cloak gripping your neck.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled, knowing immediately what had happened even before he turned heel to run downstream. Racing ahead of you, he planted his feet in the water that didn’t reach quite over his knees and leaned way over to collect the writhing mass of arms, legs, and fabric tumbling underwater toward him.

You came up coughing and it took him a moment to figure out which end was up. “Let go of me!” you cried out, hot tears welling up, threatening to spill down your cold cheeks. 

“Hmm,” he grumped, stepping out of the cold water. Catching under your legs, he noticed the pleats of Jaskier’s borrowed pants were already beginning to freeze, stiffen, and stick to your skin. 

Standing you on a clear spot he made with his boot, his cloak dropped in a heap around your legs. You trembled uncontrollably, from the shock of nearly drowning, the frightening cold seizing your body, and terror of the scowling Witcher tearing clothes from your body for the third time in as many days.

“Jaskier. Build a fire.”

“What? Why? We are headed to the next town, remember?”

His eyes narrowed and he growled, tugging the hem of Jaskier’s borrowed tunic right up over your head. 

“She’s not going anywhere if she’s dead.”

“Alright, alright,” Jaskier sulked, turning away, beginning to collect firewood. He wasn’t too keen on staying out in the forest any longer - not when there was a warm bed and any number of supple breasts waiting for him in town. 

The Witcher looked deadly serious though, his jaw set and gold eyes alight with focus. Feeling through his bags, he retrieved one of his own black tunics.

“Take it,” he rumbled, pressing the worn fabric into your shaking hands clutching your elbows. Left shuddering, you were slow to move. Every muscle in your body ached and the cold had sucked any reserve of energy you’d gained during your long sleep.

The Witcher busied himself tearing apart firewood with his bare hands and tossing them in a pile, making Jasker’s meager armful look like kindling. He could hear your heartbeat slowing the moment he dragged you from the icy water. Even from a distance now, he could make out the faintest sound of your muscles seizing up.

With a hefty sigh, he returned to you and plucked his shirt from your frozen grasp. You’d made no progress peeling off the remainder of the icy fabric, now stiff and sticking to your tender skin.

“Come here,” he husked, bending down from behind you. The rumble of his voice so close to your neck made you gasp.

“I can do it.”

“If you could do it, you’d have done it by now.”

His large hands wrapped around your waist, pulling the fabric down your body. It was a relief to be released from the frozen solid garment and you exhaled deeply in appreciation.

Next he reached around to your belly and tugged at the frozen solid knot of your bottoms. The knot gave way in his fist and they dropped from your hips. Suddenly feeling very exposed to more than just the cold, you folded your arms across your chest like an embarrassed bride.

His black shirt dropped down over you like a sail, skimming below your knees. It was soft and surprisingly warm. As soon as your arms unfolded and slipped into the too long sleeves, he scooped you up under your knees. All you wanted to do was rest your head on his shoulder and curl up against his chest while he stroked you all over but then you remembered the violet-eyed Yennefer. And how he kept the wedding a secret. Embittered by the betrayal, you pulled away when he settled you onto the saddle blanket near the fire just flickering to life and went to repack his saddle bags.

You watched him silently, letting the warmth of the fire gradually thaw your limbs.

“I’m going hunting,” Geralt announced, returning to the flickering fire.

Sitting across from you, Jaskier rubbed his belly. “Not particularly hungry at the moment.”

You shook your head indicating you were fine too. 

He frowned sharply, disapproval furrowed his brow. Without saying a word, his attention snapped to his weapons and stalked into the woods alone.

“Did I say something wrong?” 

Jaskier’s gaze followed his friend until he was out of sight. “Wha��� no. He’s just worried about you and it’s made him extra grumpy.”

By the time he returned with several large rabbits in hand, the Witcher’s cloak was tented over a low hanging branch and Jaskier sat near the fire plucking. 

Geralt nosed toward the tent before dropping heavily onto the log nearest the fire and set to work preparing the rabbits.

“She is resting,” Jaskier over-enunciated, still just shy of a whisper. “Are we done traveling for today because I sure would love the feel of a warm bed and soft thighs around my head.”

“Hmm,” he grunted. In truth, Geralt was only half listening, and more focused on turning an ear toward the makeshift tent. “When did you last look in on her?” 

His tone was threatening and it made the bard incredulous, putting his hands up. “A while I suppose? All I did was help put some stones down so it wouldn’t blow away when the wind picked up.”

Geralt huffed, nodding slightly. Still, he always heard your racing heartbeat; something felt wrong. Pinning his knife in the log where he sat, he lifted heavily and crunched through the dusting of snow accumulating around the campsite.

“Jaskier!” he bellowed, tearing down his cloak, revealing only his saddle and empty blankets.

“Listen, Geralt, I swear I didn’t know,” he pleaded, following the seething silent witcher. “How can I help? What should I do?”

“Jaskier - you’ve done enough. Go into town like you planned.”

The Wolf followed your boot prints in the muddy snow until there were no more feet to follow. Fortunately, he recognized your scent trail wafting along the underbrush. Stalking in stealth behind you, it didn’t take long to catch up.

Wielding his silver knife overhead, an otherworldly shriek escaped your lips as you dived onto the Drowner, slicing into its sickly flesh. 

He dashed forward into the fray as a second and third, escaping your notice, heaved themselves onto shore. 

Once the fallen creature lay hissing, you leapt atop its writhing body, pinning it to the ground between your knees, and gripped the stolen blade you’d concealed in your boot. 

Dispatching both deadly creatures quickly with his heavy sword, his hair spun like a riptide about his face as he looked for you in the near dark. 

A gasping shriek from the nightmare fodder pinned under his fawn gave way to slick, gouging sounds as you mangled the putrid flesh over and over until you were breathless.

Catching your hand, he pried the blood slick blade from your grasp. Ripping your slippery hand from his yielding grip, you leaned over your gaping kill and released a soul wrenched, hate-filled scream.

Geralt gripped under your arms and dragged you away from the water's edge. Collapsing back against an oak tree with you barely contained in his constantly readjusting grasp, he exploded in anger.

“What the fuck are you doing out here?! That fucking thing could have killed you. Stop - Stop struggling and answer me!”

Letting out a howl more feral than alliterative, you squirmed and elbowed his ribs as hard as you could. 

He easily overwhelmed your attempt to flee and flexed his arms around your body, dragging your back to the solid wall of his chest. Panting, nearly breathless yourself, he gripped you tight and stroked back the hair clinging to your sweaty brow; you relented more out of pure exhaustion than anything else, letting your head willfully dip back against his shoulder.

He frowned severely, glancing side eyed at you as you trembled with every breath and clung onto the forearm pressed across your breasts. 

“What. Happened,” he rumbled, dropping his voice to a more intimate tone.

Your head rolled slightly on his shoulder, licking your dry lips. “I don’t know.”

“Why do you have my knife? You’ve told me how nervous they make you.”

Releasing the grip of the mud underfoot, you began to rest your weight back against him. Feeling your clammy forehead against his cheek, he sighed. And waited.

“I was going to end it, Geralt. Right here by the water. I want to be swept away.”

Jaw clenched, he fought the immediate eruption of rage threatening to explode deep in his belly. 

“But those things appeared and ruined that moment in time when I was at peace with the idea. I got so angry because I was ready but they took it from me. Finally a decision all my own and it was taken.”

“Despair is an ugly look on you,” he seethed through clenched teeth.

Conceding to his blunt objectiveness, you wilted. “Unwanted daughter… Bride. Whore. What else do I have to hide my shame if not despair?”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Masterlist

[wh0reyp0tter]

Chapter Three: Not My Treasure

Y/N Y/L/N is chosen as one of the champions in the Triwizard Tournament with one of her best friends, Harry Potter. Along with the struggles of being one of the champions, she also has to navigate her feelings for her best friend, Hermione Granger. But, as far as Y/N knows, Hermione fancies Krum.

Includes: Angst, pining, swearing, wlw, bi!reader (mentions of flirting with men), smut, name-calling, Krum hating, fighting, physical violence, fighting, mentions of injuries, and flirting

_______________________________________________________________

In the morning I’m woken up by the sun shining in through the blinds. I blinky softly as I sit up and look around. Hermione’s bed is empty and neatly made. She never leaves without waking me up. I stand up and rub my head softly as I groan. I look on my bedside table to see a container of the familiar liquid. I drink it as my headache instantly goes away ‘Thank you, Hermione,’ I think to myself. I change into a baggy powder blue sweater and black leggings before I pull my socks and trainers on and go downstairs. 

“Look who’s finally joined us!” Ron announces as I sit beside him. Harry sits across the table next to Hermione. 

“Piss off,” I grunt as I drink a bit of my pumpkin juice. I grab a chocolate croissant and take a bite into it. 

“What crawled up your arse and died?” Harry asked. 

“Ask Hermione,” I laugh bitterly. 

“I did nothing wrong,” she protests. 

“You lectured me because I was trying to shag a fit girl!” I exclaim.

“Right Y/N, wanna say that a bit louder? I don’t think Myrtle heard you,” Ron says as he nudges my arm. 

“Tell her to stay out of my decisions,” I scoff. 

“I’m just looking out for you!” Hermone argues. 

“How is screaming at a girl I’m in the middle of hooking up with ‘looking out for me’?” I ask. 

“You don’t know her! Maybe she’s a bad person!” she replies. 

“Godric ‘Mione. Y/N was trying to shag her. Not marry her! No one bloody cares about the morality of the people they hook up with,” Ron laughs. 

“Who was it?” Harry asks. 

“Avery Hatch,” I smirk. Harry’s jaw drops and so does Ron’s. 

“Hermione, you did not fuck up Y/N’s chances to sleep with Avery Hatch,” Ron says in shock. 

“Yeah! Mates are supposed to help each other shag fit people! Not scare the fit people off!” Harry agrees. 

“Right?” I yell as I throw my hands up. Ron shakes his head as he takes a bite of his sausage. 

“Not cool, ‘Mione. Not cool,” Ron says. Hermione scoffs as she rolls her eyes.

“Avery isn’t even that fit,” she mumbles. 

“Are we talking about the same person? Long brown hair, big blue eyes, big tits, and a nice arse?” Ron asks. 

“I didn’t see much of her, Y/N was on top of her,” Hermione scoffs. Ron grins as he holds his fist up for a fist bump. I smirk as I return it. “You guys are repulsive.” 

“Don’t worry ‘Mione. I still think you’re the prettiest girl in the world,” I wink. Hermione rolls her eyes as she flips me off. “Woah woah woah! No need to be so vulgar there, princess.” 

“Piss off,” Hermione mumbles. I smile as I blow her a kiss. 

“You love me,” I grin. 

“Sadly,” she huffs. 

“So, does that mean you’re done being mad at me?” I ask. 

“As long as you’re done bringing random girls to our dorm,” Hermine replies. 

“So if I introduce them to you first, it’s okay?” I joke. Hermione shoots me a look as I hold my hands up. “I’m joking, I’m taking the piss,” I say. 

I sit in the library as my eyes scan over the piece of paper in front of me. ‘How can I listen to the message if it’s so loud,’ I think to myself. ‘What muffles sound? Walls, fabric, dirt, water. Water! How can I submerge myself and the egg. A sink isn’t going to work. And we don’t have tubs in the bathrooms. The Black Lake!’ I stand up and run to my dorm before I retrieve the golden egg and change into short shorts and a tank top. I look around before remembering everyone is at dinner. I quickly cast a protection spell on myself before I dive in with the egg in my grasp. I undo the top of the egg before the light shines from it brightly. 

“Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground. And while you're searching, ponder this; we've taken what you'll sorely miss, an hour long you'll have to look. And to recover what we took, but past an hour, the prospect's black. Too late, it's gone, it won't come back,” the eggs said quietly. I listen to it once more before I climb out and cast a drying spell. I run back to my dorm room as I shove the door open. I pull the chair out from my desk quickly as I take out parchment and a quill. I write what the egg says as I read over it. 

“Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground,” I read softly. “What the bloody hell does that mean? What can not sing above ground?” I say out loud. I pull out a book on Magical Creatures as I search for a creature that can’t live above ground. The only ones that we have access to at Hogwarts are Grindylows, Merpeople, and the giant squid. I jot those three species down as I read the next bit. “And while you're searching, ponder this; we've taken what you'll sorely miss, an hour long you'll have to look.” ‘An hour? How am I supposed to stay under for an hour!’ I think. ‘What are they possibly taking that I’d miss that much?’ I make a note to look at spells and jinxes that allow me to breath underwater.

 “And to recover what we took, but past an hour, the prospect's black. Too late, it's gone, it won't come back,” I read to myself. ‘So, if I don’t find my thing, I’ll never get it back?’ My eyes widen as I make another note. “Bloody hell.” I hit my head off the desk in frustration before reading over the riddle again. “The only body of water big enough is the Black Lake. I could be faced with Merpeople, Grindylows, or the Giant Squid. The Giant Squid will be the least of my worries. Bloody Grindylows.” I roll my eyes.

 “Whatever is under there. I have an hour to retrieve it, or it's gone forever.” I groan as I toss my quill down before I lean my head in my hands. I hear my door get pushed open, I don’t bother to look up. 

“You alright?” Hermione’s voice asks. 

“M’fine ‘Mione,” I grunt. She walks over to me as she sets her hand on my shoulder. 

“What’s got you stressed?” She says as she rubs my back. 

“This bloody riddle! It says something special is going to get taken from me. What the bloody hell is going to be taken that’s so important I need to dive into the bloody Black Lake,” I say angrily as I look at the egg. Hermione sighs as she leans into me. 

“You’ll get it, you’re brilliant,” she smiles. I roll my eyes with a smile as I wrap my arm around her waist. 

“What would I do without you?” I hum. 

“Die, fail all your courses, be so incredibly lonely,” Hermione smiles. I tug her into my lap as she squeals. I bury my face into her neck as she giggles. “Y/N!” She whines. 

“You’re warm,” I say against her skin. I dug my fingers into her sides as she shrieks. 

“That tickles! Y/N! Stop,” she laughs loudly. 

“Hmmm, I don’t think I will,” I grin as I continue to tickle her. 

“Stop! Stop! Please,” she whines. 

“I’ll stop if you admit I’m the best person in your life, and the sexiest,” I add.

“I can’t lie!” She grins. 

“That’s it,” I say as I tickle her more. 

“No! No! I’m sorry!” She giggles loudly. Hermione squirms as she tries to get out of my grip. “Fine! Fine! Y/N is the best and sexiest person in my life!” She shrieks between giggles. I smile to myself as I stop tickling her and wrap my arms around her waist. 

“See, simple as that, babe,” I laugh. Hermione shakes her head and her arms wrap around my neck. 

“Have you figured out the task?” She hums as she looks at the paper in front of me. 

“I’ve solved some things. Now I just have to figure out how to breath under water for an hour,” I groan. My head falls to her shoulder as I feel her soft fingers run through my hair. 

“You could use the Bubble-Head charm, Gillyweed, or transfigure yourself into something that can breath underwater,” Hermione replies. 

“How long does Gillyweed last?” I ask. 

“I have no idea, you’d be better off asking Nev about that,” she hums. Hermione begins braiding my hair. I nod as I look at her. 

“What if I transfigure myself into a fish!” I exclaim. 

“And how do you plan on holding your wand?” Hermione asks. 

“Good question,” I say quietly. Hermione smiles at me as she rubs my head. 

“You’ll figure it out, Angel,” she says. 

“I feel like the Bubble-Head charm is the safest bet,” I say. 

“Then go with that,” she says softly. 

“You’re the best,” I smile. She offers me a small smile as she leans her head on my chest. 

“Just helping my best friend,” Hermione replies. ‘Best friend.’ Repeats in my head. I take a deep breath before I shake my head quickly as I give her a small smile.

“I’m so grateful for you,” I say quietly. 

“And I, you, sweetheart,” she replies. I yawn softly as I stretch my arms over 

my head.  “You should get some rest, Y/N/N. It’s late.” Hermione stands up as she stretches. 

“You’re right. Tomorrow is the next task,” I huff. “You can go change first, I have to clean this up.” I gesture to the array of mess on my desk. Hermione nods as she moves to grab her pajamas out of her dresser. I begin picking up the crumpled pieces of paper and tossing them into the pin. I put back all the blank parchment before setting my quill in the case. I pick up my wand and wave it over my cup as it fills with water. I lean against my desk as I take a sip of the liquid. Hermione walks out of the bathroom with a heap of clothes in her arms. I look her up and down as I see her wearing a pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt. “Look at you!” Hermione blushes as she flips me off. 

“Go change you git,” she says as she tosses her clothes into the basket. 

“As you wish, princess,” I smile as I take a drink of my water before I set it on my desk. I grab a pair of shorts and a sports bra. I walk into the bathroom as I shrug off my robes and replace them with my pajamas. I walk out as I toss them into the basket with Hermione’s. I yawn as I blow out the candle sitting on my desk. 

“Night, Y/N/N,” Hermione says softly. 

“Goodnight, Angel,” I say. I climb into my bed before I close my eyes. ‘You’re only friends. That’s all you’ll ever be,’ I think to myself. I squeeze my eyes shut as I shake my head. I pull my blankets up to my chin as I fall asleep. 

I feel someone poke my cheek as I smack their hand away. “Fuck off! It’s Sunday,” I groan. 

“Get up,” a voice replies. 

“No,” I say with my eyes still closed. I hear a scoff as my blankets get pulled off me. I hear a screech as my blanket gets thrown at me. 

“Where are your fucking clothes?” The person exclaims. I open my eyes to see Fred and George standing above me. 

“Hm, it’s almost like I’m sleeping in my own dorm!”  I scoff as I stand up and scratch my head. 

“You have three hours before they need you down at the dock! Get up, put clothes on so we can eat!” Fred says as he shoves me towards the bathroom. I roll  my eyes before I grab jeans and a t-shirt. I go into the bathroom as I throw it on and walk out. I pull on my shoes before I follow the twins out to the Great Hall. 

“Morning,” I grumble as I plop myself beside Fred. 

“Morning,” Hermione hums, not looking up from her book. I grab a chocolate chip scone as I take a bite. 

“Ready for the task, young Harold?” I ask looking at him. Harry looks up at me as he swallows his food. 

“As ready as I can be,” he huffs. I nod in agreement as I feel a tap on the shoulder. I turn to see Avery standing behind me. “Hello there, gorgeous.” I smirk. 

“Hi Y/N,” Avery blushes. 

“And to what do I owe the pleasure,” I say as I turn around, facing her, and lean on the table. 

“I just wanted to wish you luck today,” she says softly. “I’ll be rooting for you.” 

“Thank you, doll. I’ll see you after the task, yeah?” I ask. Avery’s face heats up as she nods. I give her a grin as she scurries off to her spot further down the table. I turn back to look at my friends. The boys are staring at me in awe as Hermione glares down at her book. 

“No bloody way,” Ron says in amazement. 

“Take notes boys,” I laugh as I look between them. 

“Avery Hatch just said she was rooting for you!” George exclaims. 

“How’d you get so lucky?” Harry asks. 

“Just talked to her the other night and she obviously liked what she heard,” I smirk. I hear Hermione scoff before she speaks. 

“You lot definitely were not talking,” she says. The twins look at me with wide eyes as they each high five me. 

“Merlin, Y/N is getting laid more than we are,” Fred scoffs. I shook him a wink before I finished off my scone. 

“I’m going to the library,” Hermione says as she stands abruptly. 

“H, what-” I begin. I’m cut off by her walking out. I go to stand before Ron and Harry stop me. 

“You finish eating, Ron and I will go. We have to find something for the task anyway,” Harry says. I nod softly as I sit back down. The boys disappear as I continue eating. After a few moments Professor McGonagall appears in front of us. 

“Good morning professor,” I say softly.

“Good morning, Miss. Y/L/N,” she smiles. “Mr. Weasley, Mr. Weasley. Dumbledore would like to speak to you.” I go to get up before McGonagall stops me. “Just the twins, Miss. Rosswood.” I nod as the twins follow her out of the Great Hall. I make my way out as I make my way back to my dorm. 

“Y/N! Wait!” A voice calls after me. I stop and turn to see Cedric jogging towards me. 

“Hey Ced,” I smile. 

“Hey! Are you ready for today?” He asks as he wraps an arm around my shoulders. I lean into his side before answering. 

“As ready as I can be,” I chuckle dryly. “How about you?”

“I think we’ll do great,” he grins at me. 

“I can always count on you for some light at the end of the tunnel can’t I?” I laugh. 

“Of course,” Cedric grins at me. I roll my eyes as I nudge him with my hip. 

“How long until the tournament?” I hum. Cedric looks down at his imaginary watch before looking back at me. 

“Bout an hour I’d say,” he replies. I groan as we walk to the portrait in front of my Common Room. 

“I’ll see you in a bit,” I smile. He nods before making his way to his Common Room. “Hello,” I smile. “Have you seen Hermione?” I ask the Fat Lady.

“No, sorry dear! The last time I saw her was this morning when her, Ron, and Harry left for breakfast,” she replies. 

“It’s alright, thank you,” I smile. I tell her the password before I walk inside. I make my way to my dorm and see a pile of clothes on my bed. It’s a red and black tank top with Hogwarts’ crest on the left side. It says Y/L/N across the upper back in gold. It’s accompanied by a pair of tight black shorts. I pick the pile up and change, after I walk back out I notice a black holster like thing on my bed. I pick it up and quickly realize it’s for my wand. I wrap it around my calf as I push my wand into it. I pull a sweatshirt over my body before slipping a pair of shoes on. As I’m walking down the stairs I hear a loud booming through the castle. 

“Every champion, student, and staff member! Please make your way to the dock of the Black Lake,” Dumbledore calls. I curse under my breath as I quickly make my way out the doors and walk down the path to the Black Lake. 

“Oi! Y/L/N,” I hear a deep voice call. I turn to see Theodore Nott walking behind me. I roll my eyes as I make eye contact with him. “You’ve got a nice arse! I’d hit it once or twice. Too bad you’re a dirty little half-blood.” Theodore sends me a smirk before he looks me up and down. 

“Awe it’s alright Teddy! Judging from what I’ve heard the girls say, I’m not missing much,” I pout. I hold my pinky up before looking at it, I wiggle it at Theo as I send him a smirk. He sends me a glare before he huffs and pushes past me. I laugh to myself before I continue to the dock. I see a hoard of people standing at and on the dock. 

“Y/N! Over here!” Dean calls. He waves me over to where he’s standing with Harry, Seamus, Neville, George, and Avery. I make my way over there as everyone greets me. 

“Hey Y/N,” Avery blushes. 

“Hey sweets,” I smile. She goes to talk before Dumbledore tells us to get ready to go on. I see Avery shiver slightly as I turn to her and peel my sweatshirt off. “Here wear this, it’s my quidditch one, so as long as you don’t lose it we’re good.” There’s a chorus of ‘oooo’s as I flip the boys off. She thanks me before tugging it over her head. I kick my shoes off as I stand between Harry and Cedric. 

“Good luck you two,” Cedric smiles at us. 

“You too,” Harry and I say in unison. Harry and I look at each other as we nod. Once the buzzer sounds we all dive in. I quickly pull my wand out before casting the Bubble-Head charm. I tuck my wand back into the holder before I begin swimming again. After a few minutes of swimming I get to a clearing. As I get closer I see long pieces of vine holding things down. I see five bodies floating above the vines. The first person I make out is Hermione. I swim towards her quickly as I draw my wand. Suddenly a horde of Merpeople appear in front of me. They shake their heads as they hiss at me. ‘If Hermione wasn’t my treasure who was?’ I think to myself. I look to my side to see Fred floating next to Ron. I swim towards him quickly as I pull my wand out. 

‘Diffindo.’ I think. The vine severes as I watch Fred float slowly. I look over to see Harry do the same to Ron as Cedric swims to the surface with Cho. Suddenly Viktor appears with the head of a shark before disappearing with Hermione. ‘Mental note to make fun of him later.’ Harry moves to Fleur's little sister he tries but fails to cut the vine as Merpeople begin to tug him down by his foot. I push Ron up towards Fred as they float to the top. I cast the spell once more and cut the vine wrapped around the little girl's leg. I shove her at the two unconscious boys before swimming towards Harry. 

“Y/N! Go!” Harry screams as he gestures towards the surface. I shake my head as I watch him struggle to grab his wand. I pull mine out as I cast Stupefy at the Merpeople. They freeze and begin floating away from Harry as I reach a hand out and grab the brown-haired boy. I swim to the surface quickly as the Bubble-Head charm wears off. I hold my breath for a little longer before my head breaks through the surface of the water. I tug Harry up with me as he takes a deep breath. We both climb out as Avery and Hermione both beeline towards us. 

“You worried me you absolute twat!” Hermione shrieks as she slaps mine and Harry’s arms. Avery wraps a towel around my shoulders as we walk to the middle of the dock. Ron and Fred are sat surrounded by our friends as they hold a towel and a blanket around themselves. 

“You did bloody brilliant!” Ron exclaims as he tugs Harry and I into a hug. I smile as we both hug him back. Suddenly there’s a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see Fleur standing in front of me hugging her little sister. 

“Which of you saved Gabrielle?” She asks softly. 

“Harry,” I say. 

“Absolutely not. I tried, but Y/N saved her and then me,” Harry smiles. Fleur leans in and kisses my cheek softly. 

“Thank you so much, she wasn’t yours to save. But, you still did it!” She exclaims. 

“Well, she deserves to be saved. She’s adorable,” I smile as Gabrielle gives me a shy smile. 

“And you!” Fleur says suddenly as she looks at Ron and Fred. She moves to them quickly as she gives them each a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you for helping her to the surface!” Ron nods in shock as Fred smiles.

“Anytime,” Fred replies smoothly. Fleur gives us each a hug before walking away. 

“M’never washing my face again,” Ron mutters as he cups his cheek. 

“Awe come on Ron, who are you kidding! You’ve never washed your face,” I tease as I bump my shoulder against his. He flips me off with a sarcastic smile as everyone laughs. I look at Avery as a blush coats her cheeks. She walks to me slowly before she stands in front of me. 

“I was really worried,” she says softly. “When I saw Fleur come up, then Cho with Ced, and Hermione with Viktor, then Ron with Fred and Gabrielle. I was so scared you weren’t coming up.” Avery’s eyes are trained at her feet. I bring my pointer finger to hook under her chin before I push her face to look at mine. 

“Hey,” I say softly. Her blue eyes meet my green. “I’ll be okay, Dove.” Avery’s eyes soften as she wraps her arms around my neck. “Ave, I’m soaking wet.” 

“Don’t care, I’m just happy you’re okay,” she says against my skin. I wrap my arms around her as I hold her against me. 

“I’ll always be okay,” I say softly. Avery hugs me tight before she lets me go. 

“Pinky promise me you’ll be okay,” Avery says as she holds her pinky out. I smile to myself before I wrap my pinky around hers and kiss her hand softly. 

“Pinky promise, Darling,” I reply. 

“Can I have your attention!” Dumbledore calls. Everyone turns to look at him before he continues. “The placings for this round are as follows. In last place we have Fleur Delacour, since she was unable to get her treasure. In fourth place we have Viktor Krum. In third place we have, Harry Potter, who has been awarded points for helping save a life. In second place we have Y/N Y/L/N, who not only saved her treasure, but aided in the saving of Mr. Weasley, Miss. Delacour, and Harry Potter. And in first place we have Cedric Diggory!” There’s an eruption of cheers as I smile at Cedric. 

“Good job Ced!” I exclaim. He tugs me into him as he replies. 

“Same to you Miss. Savior,” he grins. 

“Oh Merlin, that nickname isn’t sticking,” I laugh.

[txemrn]

Happy (belated) Mother's Day! Book: TNA Warning: THIS IS PURE SELF-INDULGENCE! I decided to take some time and a) make Sam Dalton lovely and b) not kill off a certain handsome king; but fair warning, this is filled with fluffity-fluff-fluff with smidges of angst; discussion of infertility and maternal loss Song Inspiration: "We Thought You'd Be Here" by Wes King A/N: This is part of the Schuyler-Dalton Chronicles (Check out "Once... Always..." the mini-series that started it all); the characters belong to Pixelberry; I stole a quote from one of the greatest Christmas movies of all time 🎄; I am not perfect: I take full responsibility for all of my spelling and grammatical mistakes; I'm hoping you can ignore them and enjoy the story! 💗

Before the brilliant rays of the Sunday morning sun could greet the New York City skyline, Brynn stares aimlessly at the vaulted ceiling of the master suite. Although she physically craves rest, the clattering commotion of her congested thoughts keep her restless and exhausted.

Frustrated with her inability to calm her nerves, she quietly crawls out of bed, being careful not to disturb her peacefully sleeping husband. She retrieves his discarded pinstripe button-up shirt from the floor, and wraps it around her exposed body. After snatching her phone from the nightstand, she tip-toes cautiously across the wooden floor to the ensuite bathroom.

Staring at her abdomen in the mirror, the all-too-familiar excitement laced with sheer dread latches heavily onto her heart. Her breathing labors, loudly thundering in her ears; a sour uneasiness pours through her nerves, settling on her queasy stomach. She tenderly cradles her belly. Her fingers brush across the flattened contours of her healthy physique until they rest curiously on two tiny, flesh-colored scars: the remnants of a pregnancy that simply wasn't meant to be.

"Are you there, little one?" She whispers hopefully. She endearingly hugs her tummy once more fighting back tears from the painful emptiness she has felt many times before.

But, maybe this time was different.

Brynn turns to her digital calendar to ensure that this wasn't in vain, that there was a reason she was doing this today of all days.

She clicks her tongue on the side of her mouth. "The first day… that was the third," she mumbles to herself, "which makes today... one, two, three, ah! Four days late."

She fills a crystal tumbler with water before locking herself into their opulent water closet. Taking one last massive swallow of the room temperature fluid, she tears into the bright pink box. Without giving it another thought, she tosses the printed directions and plastic wrappers into the wastebasket as she places the apparatus between her legs. She knows the routine; this is far from her first pregnancy test.

Before Sam and Brynn married four years ago, the discussion of having more children created much discord between the couple. Entering his forties, Sam was satisfied with having just his twin boys, Mickey and Mason. They were growing older with flourishing social and academic schedules; keeping up with them alone was challenging. Sam's line of work wasn't slowing down anytime soon, especially with the couple's meditated decision to buy out their shares from Dalton Enterprises to start their own company projected during their first year of marriage.

Brynn was still youthful, ending her twenties by becoming a Dalton with her childhood dreams still intact: getting married and starting a family. She adored Sam's boys, quickly and naturally claiming them as her own; but, a large part of her desire was to become a mom biologically, to carry a child created by her and her beloved.

After experiencing a tragic ectopic pregnancy early in their relationship that almost cost Brynn's life, Sam's heart softened to the idea of having another child. He saw the depth of Brynn's broken heart; he felt the depth of his own humanity, facing the possibility of losing the love of his life. Again.

Somehow having the last word about the size of their family didn't matter to Sam anymore. Conceiving would be difficult, but they agreed to cherish the journey together, whether the family expanded or not.

The shattering of crystal startles Sam awake. With one eye peeking open, he inspects the empty disheveled sheets on Brynn's side of the bed.

"Brynn?" he gruffly calls out as he reaches for his eyeglasses on his nightstand. Listening fervently into the silence, he hears a muffled whimper. Throwing on a pair of heather-gray sweatpants, he investigates the tinkering of something sharp being scraped on the floor from the bathroom.

"Babe?"

'"I'm fine--" her voice is dampened by the door. And her tears.

"Brynn baby," he softly knocks. Opening the door to the small area, he reveals his kneeling wife with shards of glass splayed all over the floor. On closer inspection, she's attempting to clean up the mess with her bare hands. "Oh my God--"

"I'm sorry. I'm such a klutz. I-I-I know it was your favorite--" she stutters through her sniffles.

"Baby!" he grabs her wrists, forcing her to drop the broken pieces. "Stop-stop-stop. You're bleeding."

"I'm fine--"

"Come here." Sam grips his wife's arm snuggly, pulling her into a stand before tucking her petite body into an embrace. Pressing his lips against her hairline, he reaches down with his arm, lifting her body into a cradle-hold against his chest.

Sitting her on the sink, he quickly inspects her feet, ensuring no glass had blindly infiltrated her skin.

"I'm sorry--" she silently offers, wiping away the wetness in her eyes.

'Stop," he brushes a wisp of her hair behind her ear. He leans closely towards her, desperately wanting to dive into her stormy blues; but, her eyes stay trained on her hands.

Sam takes her injured hands in his palms, and gingerly rinses them in the sink. After allowing the water to run clear, he finally breaks the pained silenced.

"Was it negative?"

"I-I just needed a sip of water to take some Tylenol, and-and--"

"Baby," he coddles her face, making her look at him. "Did you--did you think that you--? That we were--?"

Brynn drops her head as rivers from her eyes roll down her cheeks. Sam delicately wraps her in a tight hold, peppering her sweetly with kisses.

"I thought for certain," she sniffles. "I was so shocked when nothing popped up on the test that I dropped the tumbler." She sarcastically chuckles through the sadness to herself. "And I thought it would be so sweet to find out today--today of all days. It sounded like a fairy tale, but it's now turning out more like a nightmare." She buries her face into Sam's shoulder as he tightens his arms around her body.

"I think it’s time that we--” Sam lets out a sigh, “--make an appointment--"

"No." She breaks from his hold, turning to leave the room.

"Brynn."

She angrily twirls around to face her husband. "And what, Sam? We've made appointments. What could they possibly tell me that we don't already know?"

"Okay-okay-okay--" Sam stifles the budding fire. “Forget that I mentioned it.” He reaches for his wife, pulling her back assuredly against his chest. "Please don’t cry,” he whispers into her ear, his hands rubbing her back intimately. “I am your husband, your confident. I am in your corner. Always will be." He looks down, lifting her chin attentively to his eyes, a subtle smirk growing across his face. "You want the moon?"

Brynn chuckles through her sobs resting her hands on his bare chest.

Sam presses his lips to her forehead. "Just say the word," he quietly teases. He nibbles across her cheek, his voice becoming lower, huskier, "and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down--"

Brynn meets Sam's lips in a tender kiss. She slips her arms around his neck, tugging him in closely as their mouths entwine as one.

Pulling back to dance in his sultry chocolate eyes, Brynn casually twirls the wavy locks in the back of Sam's head.

"You are my moon, Samuel."

Sam presses his forehead to hers. "I love you. We'll work through this." Looking back into each other's eyes, he begins to trace small circles on her back.

"We always do," Brynn playfully kisses his nose. "I love you, too."

"Let's head back to bed," he suggests, holding Brynn tightly, escorting her backwards to the bed. "I have a feeling that two eleven-year-old stars in our galaxy have a special surprise for you later this morning."

*****

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom!"

Brynn pops one eye open to a brightly sunlit room, only to be met with two pairs of doting brown eyes crowding her weary face. She lets out a guttural yawn.

"Mmm… thank you, boys." Brynn turns over, pulling the down comforter over her head.

"The subject is still sleeping, but moving, Dr. Dalton!" Mason playfully speaks into his watch. "I think we have a heartbeat!"

"Can't be too sure, Mr. President," Mickey dramatically grabs Mason's arm, keeping in character. "I'm afraid we're going to have to shock her. Or amputate."

Brynn squeezes her eyes closed, pretending to still be asleep as she hides her snickers. She loves listening to the boys play, using their vivid and clever imaginations. Even though they were getting older and 'too cool' for some things, she's pleased to see their dreaming hasn't stopped.

"Charge to fourteen zillion. And-- clear!"

All of a sudden, the boys ambush Brynn, tickling her feet and pinching at her sides.

"No-no-no! Ah!" She yelps, her words caught up into her laughter. "You turkeys!" She breathes heavily as she inadvertently kicks her feet wildly.

"Stop--ohmygod--Sam! Please!" she beckons between snickers, "I can't breathe--"

"Very fine work, doctor!" Mason cackles.

"Thank you, Mr. President!" Mickey mimics his brother, continuing to jovially attack their stepmother with tickles.

"ENOUGH!" Brynn screams. She grabs Mickey by the arm, pulling him into her lap, and starts plastering sloppy kisses all over his face.

"Gross! Mom! No!" he screams in agony, all the while Brynn giggles with each goofy kiss.

"Eww!" sputters Mason as he starts to crawl off the bed.

"Oh, no you don't, mister!" Brynn grabs him by the ankle, gathering him in an embrace as she plants tender kisses on his cheeks.

After a few more minutes of laughter and slathering of kisses, Brynn feels the struggle dissipate in her arms, the boys now cuddling tightly to her body. She rests her cheeks on the tops of their heads, eliciting a gentle, satisfactory moan. Soaking in the moment, Brynn realizes the truth: she is a mom. She already has everything she has ever wanted wrapped up in two beautiful bouncing balls of energy.

As the boys share the plot of the game they were playing, she secretly savors the scent of their warm brandy curls, cherishing the soft texture of their waves against her skin.

My boys. The thought of a life without them terrifies her; though her heart longs to create and deliver a baby with Sam, she would never trade this unexpected, ready-made motherhood she inherited by becoming a Dalton. In her eyes, her family is already perfectly whole. She hopes that with time, her desire for a baby will be silenced.

"Boys?" Sam calls from the kitchen. "Where are my sous chefs? This fruit isn't going cut itself."

"Uh-oh," Mason lowers his voice, "we better go, Dr. Dalton."

"Roger that, Mr. President!" salutes Mickey before turning his attention to Brynn. "Stay right here, Mom. Mother's day is just getting started!"

"I hope it's fluffy with maple syrup on top!" Brynn singsongs as the boys bounce off of the bed. She gleefully tucks herself back under the weighted comforter, glowing from the beautiful moment she shared with her sons.

Moments later, the boys barrel around the corner, this time with Sam in tow, balancing a lap desk with an immaculate breakfast spread; but keeping with tradition, the spread is for everyone. Brynn refuses to eat in bed alone.

The delightful aroma of the feast teases their stepmom's senses, and she quickly steals a strawberry slice. She instantly starts dividing up the pancakes, the grilled sausage and scrambled eggs as all the Daltons climb into bed.

"Mickey, do you want some of this--" she stops mid-sentence, her attention being stolen. Her eyes focus on a white satin jewelry box, tied with a pale pink bow.

"What is this?" She curiously lifts up the box while Mickey and Mason beam with excitement.

"It's a new kind of tradition," Mason coyly answers.

Brynn, clearly touched by the gesture, turns to her husband who's relaxing on his elbow. "Did you know about this?" she whispers. "No gifts--"

Sam raises his hands in defense. "They really wanted to do this. They did this all on their own. Saved up their allowances--"

"Uncle Robin took us to the mall and helped us pick everything out," explains a humbled Mickey. "Can she open it now, Dad?"

"She's the mama," he chuckles, swiping a kiss against the back of her hand.

Brynn meticulously unties the bow and unfastens the delicate pieces of wrapping paper, revealing a simple white box. She takes a moment to soak up her sons' excitement, who are intently watching her.

Biting her bottom lip, she opens the lid, revealing a stunning, white gold charm bracelet, already hosting several ornate charms. Brynn's mouth falls open in shock while her eyes well with tears. Taking it as their cue, the boys crawl into her lap.

"You said you always wanted one growing up--"

"Yeah," interrupts Mickey, "so we thought we could make you a mom charm bracelet."

Taking a few breaths to find the right words, Brynn distraughtly looks to a grinning, elated Sam. She looks back to the boys before fixing her eyes back onto the thoughtful piece of jewelry.

"Here, Mom," Mason takes the chain, and loops it around her wrists to clasp it. "We've been practicing,'' he smiles.

"You're doing it wrong, Mase," whispers a slightly irritated Mickey.

"I am not," Mason huskily rebuttals.

"You are, too."

"Am not!"

Brynn pulls her wrist away as the twins begin to stick their tongues out at each other.

"Guys! C'mon--" chastises Sam as he takes over,, clasping the bracelet to his wife’s arm. "Don't ruin the moment."

"Sorry, Mom," the boys simultaneously apologize, giving Brynn heartfelt looks of remorse.

After squeezing them tightly and thanking them for the very thoughtful gift, Brynn continues to admire the charms they picked. Two identical charms in the shape of a boy silhouette and a tourmaline birthstone catch her attention first.

"'Michael Aaron' and 'Mason Alexander'." A large smile plants securely on her mouth as her fingers trace over the etching of their names.

She tinkers through a few more charms, including a soccer ball, a microscope and a stand mixer. She stops at a simple silver heart with the inscription 'November 18.'

"I thought this was a mom charm bracelet," Brynn jests. "Why is our wedding anniversary on here?"

"Because that's when you officially became our mom."

Unable to control her tears, Brynn pulls them onto her lap, rubbing their backs before caressing their heads in her hands. Sam leans over, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips again and again.

This is all she ever wanted; this was her childhood dream. This is her family.

The four Daltons quickly ate breakfast in bed, laughing at the irregular shapes of the pancakes and the random eggshell in the midst of their scramble.

"Well," Brynn finishes first, "in the spirit of new traditions, I'd like to start a new one now, too. But we have to clean up and get dressed."

"Really?" squeals Mickey.

"Cool! What is it?" inquires Mason.

Brynn shakes her head. "It's a surprise." She hands the boys their empty plates, giving them a knowing wink. They both eagerly grab the dishes, and hurry to clean up the kitchen.

"Should I be worried?" Brynn flashes a sweet smile to an inquisitive Sam.

"Trust me, baby."

***

"Happy Mother's Day, Mrs. Brynn--"

"Oh, Mr. Carter!" Brynn collects a stunning bouquet of lavender tulips from Dalton's longtime driver. She takes a quick sniff of their sweet fragrance, wrapping an arm around endearingly around the older man's neck. "These are lovely! Thank you so much!"

He graciously nods, adjusting his hat with a sweet smile.

"So, the farmer's market?"

"Yes sir--"

"And I have the second address pulled up and ready to go."

"Perfect. Thank you for doing this."

***

Brynn and Sam walk hand-in-hand through the aisles of vendors, the boys remaining close. She has a destination in mind, but Brynn refuses to rush such a lovely sunny Spring day with her special guys.

They make a pit stop to try a few samples of freshly cut mango and dragon fruit. The twins sweetly plead a case for a smore with homemade marshmallows and tempered chocolate.

They finally stumble upon a florist with a delectable selection of gorgeous bulbs and gathered creations.

"We're here, boys," Brynn announces with a big smile.

"You wanted flowers?" Mickey wrinkled up his nose, sharing a confused look with his brother.

"Well," Brynn squats next to her sons, "sorta. I want you two to pick out the biggest, most beautiful bouquet."

"'Biggest'?" echoes Mason. "And 'most beautiful'?"

"Yes," Brynn giggles, "I want the biggest and the most beautiful. When you're finished," she holds up her crossbody purse, "my treat."

Sam gingerly grabs hold of Brynn's elbow, holding her back from the flower search.

"You're up to something," his eyes darken, staring into her stormy grays. A corner of his mouth curls waiting for an answer.

Brynn captures his bottom lip in a tender tug. "Trust me," she whispers, pulling his lips back into hers. His hands naturally find the curves of her rear, massaging her lovingly. "C'mon," Brynn grabs Sam's hand, her fingers intimately lacing with his.

The twins did not disappoint. With the help of the florist, Mickey, true to form, picked out a beautiful bouquet of red, white and blue wildflowers, homage to his favorite football team. Mason was charmed by the long-stemmed sunflowers. He has a stunning arrangement of orange and yellow flowers amongst a cloud of babies' breath.

"Guys, these are absolutely perfect!" A glimmer and sparkle grow in Brynn's eyes as she investigates the colors and smells. "You two did wonderful!"

"Happy Mother's Day!" Proud of their work, Mickey and Mason offer their bouquets to Brynn, but she quickly waves them away.

"Hold them for me, please. We have one more stop to make."

***

Carter picks up the Daltons, and quickly takes a detour, leaving the city. The car remains silent from conversation; the gallop of the wheels plodding against the rubber road lull the boys into a nap. Brynn rests her head against Sam's broad chest. His strong arm wraps tightly around her shoulders, his cheek basking amongst her vibrant almond waves.

"Excuse me? Mr. And Mrs. Dalton? We're here."

Carter kindly opens the door for the family to exit to their new endeavor in the country. There is a brisk chill in the air, but nothing the bold sunshine couldn't cure. Instead of the familiar sounds of people shouting and horns honking, they were surrounded by birds chirping, grass whistling, and leaves gently clapping.

"Where are we, Mom?" whispers a nervous Mickey, the first to file out of the car.

Brynn bends over, kissing his head. "You'll see, baby. You'll see. Did you grab your flowers?"

Mickey nods, handing the other bouquet to Mason.

Sam climbs out of the car, instantly aware of his surroundings. "Um, sweetie," he motions with his finger for her to come closer. "You think they're ready for this?"

"They've been ready for this. Trust me." She touches her hand to his downcast face, offering a tender smile. "How about the boys and I go on ahead?"

Sam soaks in the nature around him as a sweet breeze lingers on his face. Grabbing Brynn's hand, he kisses it delicately before letting go with a squeeze. "Okay."

"C'mon, boys," she reaches out, taking the boys by the hand, "we've got someone to talk to."

They enter the iron gates, walking respectfully on the stony pavement. They wind around on the path, trees gracefully blooming above their heads. They finally come to a fork in their venture.

"Okay, you two," Brynn walks in front of them only to kneel down to stop them. "Do you know where we are?"

"A cemetary?"

"That's right, Mase--"

"So, there are dead people buried underneath us?" Mickey cautiously asks. “Cool.”

"They are buried here," explains Brynn, "but we aren't walking on top of them. Their bodies are marked by those big rocks with writings on them--"

"Headstones!"

"That's right, Mase. They're called headstones."

"Why did you want to bring us to a cemetery for Mother's day?" questions Mickey. "That seems weird."

Brynn chuckles pulling him into a tight embrace. "Cemeteries are a beautiful place to communicate with those who have already passed. Sometimes on special days, like birthdays or anniversaries--”

“Or Christmas!” interjects Mickey.

“‘Or Christmas,’ that’s right.” Brynn stands. “Those days can be sad and lonely for those of us still alive on earth because we miss them so much.” She begins to draw closer to a plot with a large white granite headstone. “Spending time with them where they are buried is a way to remember them and to show them that we still love them.”

“Do they, um, talk back?” nervously asks Mason.

Brynn smiles sweetly at her stepson, hugging him tighter as they continue their saunter. “I’d like to think so, but not in the way we expect them to. Like sometimes, it might be a familiar fragrance, or a familiar song. Something to remind us that they are looking down, watching us, loving us.” Brynn nods in the direction of the breathtaking, large stone. “Go ahead.”

The boys cautiously step towards the monument, laying their flowers on top of the glistening stone.

“Caroline Austin Dalton--” Mason reads out loud, tracing the etching carefully with his fingers.

“That’s mama, right, Mase?”

“I think so, Mick.” The brothers endearingly hold each other’s hands as their eyes focus on her name. Mason’s eyes begin to well with tears first. “I can barely remember her--”

“Me, too.” Mickey quickly turns to Brynn, motioning for her to come closer. “What do we say to her? You’re our Mom--”

“--and she is your mom, just in a different way.”

“How do we talk to her?” shrugs Mickey.

“How do you talk to me?” Brynn smiles warmly, pushing a curl out of Mickey’s face. “Just talk. Talk about your day. Your favorite food. Your soccer game on Thursday.”

The boys raise their eyebrows at each other before returning their gaze back to Brynn.

“Here. Let me show you.” Brynn crawls onto her knees, facing the memorial. She clears her throat. “Caroline? Your boys picked out the most beautiful flowers for you.” Brynn grabs Mason’s hand. “You’d be so proud of them. Mason here is a straight-A student. Loves science, and is quite the little baker.” Brynn wraps an arm around Mickey. “And your first born here loves to play sports, and has a very vivid imagination.”

Brynn clears her throat. “It’s now your turn,” she gently rubs their backs. “Don’t worry; if she is anything like me, she’s dying to have you talk to her. Go ahead.”

Mason steps forward, placing a sincere hand on the headstone. “That’s Brynn, Mama--”

“And she’s a really great Mom,” chimes in Mickey, “she was originally our nanny--”

Brynn slowly backs away, allowing the twins to talk. She casually glances to the side, and notices a man out of the corner of her eye, taking swig from a flask: her husband.

Brynn casually walks up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She kisses the exposed skin of his chest, her lips crawling up his neck to his stiff chin.

“Please don’t be mad at me for this.”

Sam chuckles, avoiding eye-contact. “Some warning would’ve been nice--”

“So you could stop me?”

“Touché.” Sam takes another sip of bourbon, drifting back into a silent watch over the boys.

Brynn tightens her embrace around her husband. Breathing a sigh of satisfaction, she listens to the sweet bursts of giggles amongst the conversation being held by the twins in the distance.

Sam grips tightly to Brynn’s body, his mouth attempting to form words. “They haven’t been here since--” he swallows thickly, “since that day. I always wanted to keep her memory alive and bring them here, I just...” his voice begins to wander.

“Sam?”

“Hrmm?” he glances back down into Brynn’s sparkly blue eyes.

“You’re allowed to miss her, too--”

“Brynn... I--”

“It’s okay, baby--”

Sam caresses Brynn’s cheek with the back of his hand. “I love you--”

“That’s not what this is about,” she kisses his hand away from her face.

Sam clings tightly to his wife, rubbing his hands up and down her back. Painful tears that he had been holding back for over nine years spill down his cheeks as the floodgates of emotions wash over his body. “You truly are the best thing that has happened to this family,” he purrs in between sniffles.

After a few minutes of holding each other tenderly, Sam joins the boys at the graveside. Sharing sweet memories amongst each other, Mickey and Mason find solace in their father’s lap.

Brynn discovers a nearby bench to watch and wait. Humbled and satisfied by the day that had started so terribly, she smiles brightly as her beautiful family spends time, savoring the precious stories of the past.

A sudden gust of wind barrels across Brynn's face. Drying the rushing rivers from her cheeks, her hair dances carefree in the tumbling breeze. Her eyes flutter close as she lays her hands on her abdomen.

"It's okay, little one," she sweetly hums, "but if you like laughing, and if you like living... and if you like dancing and dreaming," Brynn cradles her abdomen tightly, "we'll be waiting."

The afternoon sun seeks refuge into darkness; the street begins to illuminate with the buzzing of lamps and lightning bugs. The laughter dies down and the conversation quietly stops. Sam slowly rounds up the boys, guiding them back to Brynn.

“I think we’re ready to head back,” Sam suggests, wrapping his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Anymore surprises?” he chuckles, pecking his lips to hers.

The corners of her mouth curve. “You three go on ahead,” she playfully pats Sam’s rear. “I’ll be right behind you guys.”

Sam raises an eyebrow before nodding his head. Placing his hands on each boy's shoulder, they walk towards the car where Carter is dutifully waiting for them.

Brynn approaches Caroline’s tombstone, graciously sitting next to it. She casually traces over her name, imagining how excited she must’ve been the first time she signed her name 'Mrs. Dalton'--just like her. Brynn finally rests her hand on the cold stone, tears of joy recollecting in her eyes.

”You gave me everything I could’ve possibly wanted,” a sob hitches in her throat. “Thank you for making me a mom. It was never supposed to be like this,” she chuckles to herself. She looks over her shoulder, watching Sam load up their sons into the car. “God, it’s so much better than I could’ve ever imagined. I promise I'll take care of them--"

“Brynn?” Sam calls out from the distance. “Ready, baby?”

“--all three of them.”

***

"Goodnight, boys. We love you," Sam whispers to the boys as he closes their bedroom door.

Brynn's eyes twinkle at her handsome husband, his gaze falling deeply on hers. She effortlessly takes his hand, draping it around her shoulders, pressing her tired cheek against his chest. Kissing the top of her head, he escorts her to their room, switching off lamps along the way.

"I've got one more surprise for you," Sam growls as he shuts their door.

"Mmm…" Brynn begins to tug at his waistband. "I love these kind of surprises," her mouth gently presses into the side of his neck, her teeth gingerly nipping at his pulse point.

"Baby," Sam chuckles, his wandering fingers combing through her golden waves. "I, um--" he clears his throat, "I actually do have something I want to talk with you about."

"Oh?" Brynn suddenly cups her hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she sighs, "I know, I know. I probably should've at least told you about my plan of going out to Caroline's grave--"

"Baby, I--"

"It just made sense in my mind at the time," she interrupts. "I don't want our boys forgetting they have two mothers that love them very much--"

Sam raises an eyebrow, a mischievous grin growing.

"What? Is it about the tumbler? I swear, I'll replace--"

"Brynn baby?" Sam takes ahold of both of her hands. "I love you," he places a sweet peck on her lips, "but shut up--" they start laughing at his words before he continues. "--now, come with me."

She follows him into the bathroom where he hands her a bottle of water.

"Wh--what's this about?" she furrows her brow.

"I was taking out the trash this morning after breakfast, and noticed your test--"

"Sam--"

"Your test, baby," he steps closer to her, holding it in his hands. "The box says it expired two years ago. I know you stockpile these things and keep them hidden." Brynn crosses her arms as her neck flushed with embarrassment. "Isn't there supposed to be some kind of line on it to show that the test is still okay to take?"

"A control line, yes. What's your point?"

"Brynn," his eyes pierce into hers, "yours doesn't have one." A playful grin crawls across his face. "And-and-and according to Google, you need one for the test to be even considered valid."

Brynn looks at the test, and realizes it's completely blank from any and all lines. She appreciates her husband's passion and agrees this is peculiar, but the point he is trying to make sounds way too good to be true. This isn't a movie or a fairy tale. And those lines fade after a test has been performed. Or do they?

"Brynn? Did you hear me?"

Brynn nods her head, biting her lip in deep thought. She wants to feel his excitement, but she can't be let down, not even just one more time. It had been the absolute perfect day with the absolute perfect family to where she is mom. Can she just end Mother's day feeling, well, like a mom?

"C'mon," he steals her water, popping the cap. "I bought a new test today while we were at the market--one that wasn't expired. Let's try again."

"Sam, no," she refuses to take the water back. "Besides, it's best to take it first thing in the morning--"

"So, what you're saying is that you want me to wake you up in a few hours to pee--"

"No, I'm saying let's drop it." Growing irritated, Brynn brushes past her husband and back into the bedroom.

Sam drags his fingers down his face. He follows suit, chasing after her. He reaches for her shoulder, but she dodges his touch.

"Brynn baby--"

"No--"

"Answer me this then," he bites back, "why did you take a test in the first place?"

Brynn freezes for a moment, staring at the ground. She doesn't want to argue, and she knows that her husband's questions come from a good place. They had always been open with one another; why not now?

"I thought I was." Brynn crosses her arms, blinking away tears.

Sam sits on the bed in front of her, looking tenderly at his bride. He grazes his finger tips up and down her hips until she finally looks down at him, drying her eyes.

"You might be, baby," he whispers, smiling into her gaze. "That was one test, one test that I'm pretty sure was bad."

Brynn casually combs Sam's waves back with her fingers, curling around his ear. Sam presses his nose to forearm, inhaling deeply the remnants of her floral perfume.

"For me?" Sam grazes his lips up her arm, finally resting them on her bare abdomen.

Touching his chin, Brynn tenderly nods.

***

Sam sits on the side of the garden tub, his elbows resting on his nervously bouncing knees.

After what seems like an eternity, Brynn emerges from the closet bathroom. Uncontrollable tears drench her red, blotchy face.

"Sam--?" her voice panics, her body shaking as she reaches for Sam.

Without missing a beat, he lovingly captures her in his arms. His hands intimately stroke her back as she sobs into his chest.

"Shh... baby. It's okay." Sam presses his lips into her hair, holding her close. "It’s going to be okay--"

"Sam--?" Brynn pulls away from Sam's chest, offering him the test as she cups her mouth.

Sam inquisitively takes the test from Brynn. And his eyes widen, shaking his head in disbelief. And he smiles.

“Happy Mother’s day, baby.”

*****

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[thomotomo]

Umm i see you accept actor request, can i request logan lerman with male reader? It can be about their first trip together and also their first time since dating because they need the right time. And also reader the one that lead (and also top) while making sure logan relaxed. Maybe just praising and go slow? And aftercare? It's okay if it take long, i will wait for it :) thx btw

A/N: Heya! Thanks for requesting that fic! I’m sorry it took me a little bit of time but I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless :) There might not be a lot of praising but I hope you like it anyway ^^ I’m not very good at smut yet haha

Words: 2.3K - NSFW

Logan Lerman x Male Reader

“Finally!” you thought as you left the plane, hand in hand with your boyfriend. This year had been quite hectic for both of you, Logan had to shoot in a lot of movies, and you had been quite engrossed in the movie you were planning to direct. Actually, you had started dating around mid-March, after meeting him on set and discussing with him (and going to “dates” in each other’s trailer, though it was complicated with how much work you had and

You couldn’t go to many dates because both of you had decided not to engage in such activities in public yet. Logan and you just left complicated relationship and agreed on taking your time to be sure you really enjoyed each other’s company before actually doing a date together to be seen from everyone.

And now, here you were, walking inside Tokyo’s airport to retrieve your suitcases. Once you got them, you took out the little notebook with all the addresses of the places you would stay at and the ones you decided to absolutely visit with Logan. Logan started to lead you towards the subway so you could buy the tickets you’d need to go to the place you were going to live for the next few weeks before moving to another town to visit.

He was looking confused at the machine to take the ticket while you were figuring out which subways you had to take to be the closest from the house than you could. Luckily for both of you, you had studied Japanese in order to avoid being completely lost for when you would be in Japan. Once you found the right path to take you went back to Logan and took the tickets.

He looked at you with a gentle smile and kissed your cheek. You grinned and helped him with the luggage. You spent an hour in the different subways of Tokyo, as the airport was quite far from the place you rented, but of course you didn’t mind much.

You arrived in front of the house you rented in Adachi City, the house was quite beautiful, the outside looked pretty modern, but the walls hid a path that was in a typical Japanese style. You went to knock on the front and meet the landlady who greeted you with a smile. You bowed a little bit and she tried to formulate a little bit of words in English when you smiled and started to speak in you rusty Japanese. Hearing that she brightened and seemed relieved she won’t have to use google translate or something else.

She made you visit the house and after discussing a little bit more, she gave you the keys and left. Now that you were alone, in your cocoon for the next few weeks. You really loved the look of it, the perfect mix between traditional and some modernity. Most of the rooms looked traditional except for the kitchen that was pretty modern. Logan walked closer to you and put his arms on your shoulder, softly kissing you on the corner of your lips.

“Finally we’re able to spend some quality time together. What do you want to do today?”

“Obviously not a lot of things, maybe we can arrange the house to start and then go to sleep? You’re not tired?”

“Mmh I guess so… I think the adrenaline of being in another country help a lot.”

You smiled at him and kissed him softly on the lips, savouring this moment of peace and the knowledge of being far away from work and from everyone associated to it. Logan sighed when you stopped and you caressed his cheek, still smiling.

“C’mon, if you’re tired you can sleep a bit on the couch I’ll be unpacking the suitcases.”

“No, I’m not letting you do that all alone love! Maybe we can take a shower and we can sleep. Then tomorrow we’ll start unpack!”

You nodded, accepting his proposition and took one of his hands in yours.

“Good idea sweetheart.”

You lead each other towards the bathroom and started to run the hot water. While you were doing that, your boyfriend went to the suitcases taking your pyjamas. Once the tube was filled with hot water you started stripping, right as your lover came back. He whistled, making you laugh.

Logan took off his clothes too and you both went inside the burning hot bath, sighing in pleasure as the hot water attacked your skin. You hadn’t showered in more than 24 hours and being tired from the trip didn’t help you much but now you felt quite relieved.

Logan sat himself between your legs, his back on your chest and you smiled and wrapped an arm around his waist and kissed his shoulder. You stayed in the bath for a while, discussing and washing each other. Once you were fully clean you left the bath and dried yourselves with big, soft towels and put on your pyjamas.

You didn’t have time to stop at a shop and buy some food, so you decided to order typical Japanese food.

After half an hour the doorbell rung to open it while Logan trailed behind you, excited for the food. You discussed for a few moments with the deliverer and then closed the door.

“Do you know that you’re insanely hot when you speak Japanese?” says Logan as he wrapped his arms around you, kissing you between your shoulder blades.

You took his hand into yours and kissed his cheek.

“C’mon little simp, let’s eat!”

“Why are you mean to me?”

“I’m not mean love! That’s just the truth.”

He laughed as you sat on the ground, putting all the food on the table, Logan sat next to you and hummed as the smell of the miso soup and other hot food. You took out the chopsticks and gave a pair to Logan and quickly muttered a “bon appetite” before diving into the food. After a few bites both of you looked at each other with comical wide eyes and you stated:

“Holy shit this is the best Japanese food I ever ate!”

“Fuck yes! I won’t eat sushi that aren’t straight from Japan anymore!”

You had a great time eating and once you were full you went to brush your teeth and go to sleep. It was a bit weird as first because you slept in a futon for the first time ever but adapted quickly as you fell asleep with Logan’s head on your shoulder in 10 minutes.

The next morning you were awaken with soft kisses all over you face. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled at the sight of Logan’s face close from yours. The other male winked at you and put a leg over you body and was now seated on your hips, smiling cheekily.

“Good morning to my favourite boyfriend.”

“I’m your only boyfriend Logan….”

“I know! And this is why as the boyfriend of the most beautiful man in the world I decided to woke you up to have a little bit of fun time together…”

You felt your face heating up and the blood rushed straight to your dick, poking Logan’s ass. The man laughed softly and looked at you with a certain glint in the eyes.

“Ooh you like this idea right? What are you waiting for then?”

You suddenly didn’t felt sleepy anymore and you flipped him under you  taking him by surprise and making him wrap his legs around your waist. You now arbored a predatory grin on the face, one of your hands slipping under his shirt, softly caressing his sides. You leaned toward him and kissed him slowly but deeply. One of his hands caressed your cheek as he sighed in pleasure. After a few minutes of intense kissing you separated your mouths and your lover panted.

You didn’t waste any time and started to kiss his neck softly, nipping it and leaving some marks behind it. You smiled as he whimpered whenever you nipped at his neck, your free hand trailed until it reached the top of his shit.

“May I?”

“Of course…”, he nodded in agreement and sighed.

You sat on your knees and started to open his pyjama shirt button per button. Logan’s breath hitched as the cold air hit his skin, you helped him fully taking off the clothe and started to caress his torso. One of your thumbs brushed his nipple before pinching it lightly making the man under you whimper.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and decided to play with him a little more, while your right hand was playing with his right nipple, you used your mouth to suck and bite softly the other nipple. After a moment you switched nipples enjoying teasing him. He gripped your hair and between to moans:

“S-Stop teasing me! C’mon…”

You laughed and softly bit the nipple and stopped your teasing. You took off your shirt and pants while he took of his own pants. You grabbed some lube and squeezed some on your fingers you used your free hand to caress his waist and kissed him softly.

“Are you sure you want to do it?”

“Of course? love, I really want to do this with you..”

You couldn’t help but feel the blood rush on your face, he had this effect on you whenever he gave you cute nicknames. You kissed him once again and brought one finger near his entrance, you tried to help him relax by entering the tip of your index inside him, kissing him and massaging his hip to help him relax to the new intrusion.

Once your finger was fully inside, you stopped moving for a moment, to help him getting used to it, when he nodded again you put a second finger and started to work him open, helping him loosen up.

He was moaning under you, nearly begging for more, it was the first time he had ended up in a gay relationship, so he was still getting used to having an intrusion in him. When he told you, he was feeling ready you lightly bit his neck and went to take a condom. You took off the wrapping quickly and put it on your dick. You also put some lube on it to make the penetration easier.

You positioned yourself between his legs and led your dick toward his ass, putting the tip inside. You heard Logan take a sharp intake of breath. You kissed his forehead looking at him, silently asking him if he was alright. He nodded, allowing you to continue to penetrate him. It took you a few minutes of slow penetration for you to be fully seated inside of him.

“A-AH! (Y-Y/N)!”

“You’re doing good sweetheart, taking me like that… Tell me when you want me to move.”

Logan put his head against your shoulder, asking you to start moving, which you gladly did. You started with slow movement, helping Logan getting used to the movements, then after a few moments you picked up the pace and your boyfriend started to moan more and more loudly. Yourself you couldn’t help but groan in pleasure, his virgin ass tightening around you with every movements. You picked up the pace and going a bit more deeply in him, your dick brushing against his prostate. His hands were on your back, scraping it, the pain that it procured you, making you moan.

Both of you were moaning messes and you were biting Logan’s neck, giving him hickeys and enjoying seeing them turning purple. He was panting under you and you were doing the same. Your movement stayed quite fast, but it was hitting deeper inside him no longer brushing his special spot, now making him seeing stars. He was tightening around you and you snaked one of your hands around his penis, jerking him slowly so he wouldn’t come yet.

He was moaning your name desperately, pleading for you to allow him to come.

“Good boy, keep moaning like that and you might came tonight.”

After teasing him for a little while more you flickered your hand one last time, making him come all over himself. He tightened around you more harshly than before, making you come in the condom.

You both were softly kissing each other between two pants, and he looked at you with love and kissed you once again before announcing:

“That was wonderful… Thank you a lot.”

“It’s normal, it was your first time with a man after all…”

He nodded and you gazed at him lovingly kissing his cheek before withdrawing yourself from his ass. You kissed his cheek and stood up.

“Wait here I’ll be back in a few seconds sweetheart.”

He looked at you, trying to regain his breath. You tied and threw the condom in the trash, then went to the bathroom to wet a towel with hot water to relieve him. When everything was good you went back to him and washed his come from himself and softly massaging his thighs to relieve him from the pain he could feel.

When he told you everything was good, you put the clothe away and went back to him, under the covers. You helped him put back his pyjama and you did the same; he put his head on your torso, his hand caressing your torso. You kissed the top of his head as you felt his breath calming down.

“Thank you for that again...”

“It’s nothing Logan, I’m glad you trusted me enough to be okay with me doing that to you.”

“I’m happy to be with you and to spend the next weeks with you.”

“Me too. I’m glad we can spend time together outside of work.”

He smiled at you and you kissed each other with such love that in that moment you felt like nothing existed beside you two.

[anarchyduck]

[appear] “ i need help. please. ” gerfra

So sorry this took for-freaking-ever OTL ---------------------

Takes place: 1942, Paris

  Germany does not find sleep easily anymore. The wheels in his head continue turning, agonizing over battle plans and strategies, over conversations he held with subordinates and superiors. He thinks about the paperwork that sits untouched on his desk, in untidy piles that would usually dive him made. A half empty bottle of brandy sits in the middle of it all, a glass of it in his hand as he stares out the window to the Parisian streets.

 A rapid knock breaks through his thoughts and he stills, waiting. It is late and he is not expecting company at this hour. Another knock pushes him to move. He sets the glass down on the desk as he crosses the room, hand on his pistol as he nears the door. Thoughts filter through one by one, all with the touch of paranoia as he wonders who it could be.

 “I know you’re there.” A voice, tired and strained, and slightly muffled through the wooden door. “Don’t be rude.”

 A moment of shock stills his actions but then Germany opens the door. France stands before him, his clothes shuffled and worn. His face is narrower than last time Germany saw him, and he looks in need of a shave. More alarming than that is the blood that covers the side of his face.

 “I need your help.” He says before Germany can ask. Tired blue eyes fix on him. “Please.”

 He should not. He knows he should not. The last time he saw France was nearly two years ago after taking Paris. How tall and mighty France stood high even after being defeated. He was bloody then too. Though he was hurting, he walked with his head held high and greeted him with the same grace and charm Germany remembered him for. He came willingly and there was no need for shackles. Few days later, France was gone. Now here he stands, dressed in dirty clothes at his door.

 Germany pulls him inside, closes and locks the door behind them. “You shouldn’t be here.”

 France laughs dryly. “I could say the same about you.” He stumbles in his step before sitting down heavily in the closest chair. He groans as he leans his head back, his eyes falling close as he rests.

 Germany realizes the strange situation he has found himself in. His enemy enters his living quarters in the dead of night, wounded and exhausted. He doubts France has the strength to fight back. The thought of radioing it in snakes into his mind. He should call it in. France would be arrested, placed into the cuffs that he avoided before. It would certainly resolve some problems. His superiors would congratulate him for the capture. Something about it does not sit well. The mental image of France being carried away to execution makes his stomach churn.

 He finds himself walking to the bathroom to retrieve a first aid kid and wet washcloth. France is still in the same position when he returns and, were it not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Germany might have suspected him to be dead.

 A chair scraps across the wood floor as Germany pulls it around the coffee table to France's side. He sets the kit down and, with the cloth, begins to carefully wipe the blood from the man’s face. “What happened?” he asks.

 “Just a touch of carelessness on my part.” France replies. His eyes are still closed, though his brows twitch together every so often.

 “Thought you had gone south.”

 “I did, for a time. But I missed my city.”

 Germany continues cleaning the blood away and finally finds a wound at France's hairline. It is clotted and closed now, though he wonders if it needs stitching. His brows pull together, and he moves the cloth away with a frown. The thought from before resurfaces once again, gnawing at his mind. A little voice tells him to call for reinforcements and another tells him to take care of it himself. Other questions came to mind, the top of them being why was France back in Paris?

 France's eyes open and he tilts his head to look at him. He looks awful, Germany thinks. Cheeks are hollower than he remembers. Dark circles beneath his eyes and a day-old bruise on his jaw. A still healing scrape blemishes his cheek and he looks tired. Worn thin. “So?” he asks, drawing Germany from his observations. “How bad is it?”

 “It’s fine. You’ll live.”

 “What wonderful news.” France says and Germany cannot discern if it was sarcasm or not.

 He stands and takes the bloodied cloth to wash in the sink. When he returns, France is helping himself to the brandy at his desk. Germany stills a moment and thinks of the many secret documents laying open on his desk. The paranoid voice hisses in the forefront of his mind and he chooses not to pay mind to it. Instead, he looks at the man standing by the window that overlooks the city. How delicately he holds the glass as he drinks, the moonlight in his hair.

 “Quiet night.” France says. “Never could stand the quiet when I was younger and now, I don’t mind it much. This industrial age is so noisy that I almost wish for quiet nights again.” He takes a sip then looks to Germany. “Suppose you wouldn’t know much about those nights, would you? Long before the wonders of electricity and automobiles.”

 “Why are you here, France?”

 “This is yours, yes?” France picks up the other glass of brandy Germany left on his desk and holds it out to him. “Drink with me. And do not worry, I didn’t poison it.”

 “I wasn’t thinking that.” Germany retorts as he takes the offered glass and, if to prove his point, takes a sip. France smiles lightly in approval.

 “We both know it would take more than poison to harm you.” he says calmly. “It is exhilarating, no?”

 Germany frowns, mind scrambling to catch up. “What?”

 “Conquering. The rush of new territory folded into you. Better than any drug in the world. Better than sex.” France chuckles lightly as Germany’s cheeks color red. “Once you have that first taste, you only crave it more. Don’t you, Germany?”

 “I don’t believe that’s an accurate description.”

 “But you do understand, don’t you? The good and the bad of it.” France swirls the liquor around in his glass. “All that territory, it doesn’t belong to you. Your body becomes a war within itself and you crave more in hopes it will satisfy the ache.”

 “Why are you here?” Germany asks again.

 France exhales a sigh and, for a moment, stares into the swirling brandy. Then he takes a drink and says, “Wonder if I could take a bath while I’m here?”

 Just how long does France intend to stay, he wonders. His mind wars with itself, frustrated he cannot gauge a proper read off the Frenchman. A thought that sounds awfully like his brother tells him to not to trust France. Do not turn your back, it says. Then again, Gilbert said that about many other nations. His chest tightens slightly at the thought of his brother and quickly pushes it out of his mind.

 “Yes, of course.” he replies, and France smiles again.

 “Thank you, my dear.” He finishes his glass in one swallow then sets it down onto the desk. Germany watches him go down the hallway and hears a door close. He drums his fingers around the glass in hand and looks to the empty one on the table. Pipes rattle in the apartment walls as he faintly hears the rush of water and he wonders how he has fallen into playing host to his enemy. He knows the trouble they will both be in if someone caught them.

 If.

 Germany’s mind falls back on France’s hollow cheeks and before he realizes it, he is in the kitchen preparing to reheat soup from earlier.

 France emerges sometime later. In the time spent, Germany has cleared his desk and consumed another glass of brandy. It is enough to finally take the edge off and silence the whispers that slither in his mind. Soup is sitting warm on the kitchen stove, its smell taking over the small apartment. He wonders if it will be enough. If France will take it alone or if he will distrust a meal from his enemy. He looks up as his new guest enters the kitchen and frowns lightly.

 “Are those my clothes?”

 “Found them in the wardrobe. Hope you don’t mind.” France finishes buttoning the cream-colored shirt, leaving the last few buttons at the top undone. It hangs from his body though not in the same way it does to Italy. Though he is broader and taller than France, Germany cannot help thinking the clothes should not hang off that much. “God, I remember when you were smaller.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “You used to be this cute little darling that Prussia adored showing off. And now look at you, all grown up.” France exhales a sigh as he ties back his still damp hair. Few stands escape to frame his face and it's then Germany notices he has shaved. The shadows beneath his eyes remain, as does the bruise on his jaw. His eyes drift upward to the cut on his forehead and feels relief when he sees it is nearly healed. His gaze catches France’s and he sees the man smirking at him. “See something you like, Germany?”

 Germany’s face warms and he hastily turns away towards the stove to lift the pot and stir the soup. Behind, France chuckles lightly and he wonders how much of this the man enjoys. All of it, he realizes. Would it be too late now to throw him out of the apartment? His jaw tightens for a second as he ladles some soup into a bowl and sets it down on the table.

 “Thought you would be hungry so I…” he trails off awkwardly as he catches France’s still smiling at him. He is not sure what about this time.

 “How kind.” France muses. He takes the seat and stirs the contents around in the bowl with his spoon. Faintly, Germany wonders if the man will take food from him. Would he think it was poisoned? But then the worries fade as France begins to eat.

 “Entire city is rationing and here you are with real meat.” he comments between bites. “I thought all resources were going to the front.”

 Germany’s jaw tightens as he frowns. “They are,” he replies.

 “Don’t suppose you have cigarettes on hand, do you?”

 “I don’t smoke.”

 France raises a brow at him and puts his spoon down. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin metal container from his pocket. “Then what’s this?”

 “Gift.” Germany replies. “But I don’t smoke.”

“Hm. Mind if I do?” France asks as he pulls out one of the cigarettes from the box. He quickly lights it and inhales deep, holds it, then exhales. Germany waves off the smoke that wafts in his direction and moves to take the other seat at the table. They sit in relative silence. While France smokes and eats, Germany once again attempts to figure out the situation he has found himself in.

The grandfather clock in the living room chimes twice as France lights his second cigarette. “Does it ever stop?” he asks suddenly.

Germany frowns. “Does what stop?”

“Those gears in your mind.” France leans back into his chair, cigarette between two fingers as he looks at him. “They have been excessively turning since I arrived. You’re wondering what I’m doing here.”

“I am curious, yes.”

France hums in his throat and brings the cigarette to his lips. Smoke curls in the light as it floats about the room. “You wonder if I am here to steal your precious plans. Stuff papers and secret documents into my trousers and carry them off to my leaders.” He takes another drag, the end lighting on the inhale. “Or perhaps I sneak into your bed and slit your throat while you sleep.”

 Germany’s brow furrows. “The thought crossed my mind, yes.” he says tensely. “Why else would you come back, knowing the danger.”

 He laughs and flicks ash into the empty soup bowl. “My dear, I’m not crude like Arthur.” he says. “Besides, in my current state, I could not hurt you even if I wanted to.” 

“Then what do you want?” Smoke swirls around France and it reminds him of Bismarck. When Prussia brought him to Versailles to be crowned as the new German Empire. He had his first cigar then and found it distasteful. It made his eyes water and the smell clung to his clothes for days. France had been there too. Silent and seething from across the room when Wilhelm was proclaimed emperor.

“What I want,” The memory fades as France begins to speak. “I cannot have.” He takes another long drag and Germany wonders if he intends smoking it down to the end as he did the first one. “Least not immediately, so I will settle for second.” 

“Which is?” 

 “A soft bed to start,” France’s lips curl into a smile. “And perhaps your warm company.”

“No.” Germany says immediately and leaves the table, ears growing warm as France’s laughter trails behind him.

[arent-you-scared-lil-human]

Bølger (1)

Merman!Kae x Reader.

Words: 2,245

bølger means waves.

The first time you saw a mermaid, it was a merman, his name was Eros and he was huge, his tail longer than your entire body but he was only 15, eight years maturer than you. Since your aunt always spoke greatly about the magical creatures you supposed that all of them were kind -minus goblins, they are never kind-  each took you to the beach's sand nearing the waves. 

Eros had light blonde hair, eyes bluer than the water surrounding him, and his sharp teeth alarmed you. He looked at you up and down and wondered why a human so small was reaching him.

But he wasn't one of the nice mermen your aunt mentioned, the brave creatures that protect the oceans, he was a spoiled boy, that didn't like any other species than his own. Humans being the most he dispised.

"Why do you stare at me?"

"You pretty." Your seven-year-old speech not being very sharp to contain all the right diction.

"Yes. I'm Eros, who are you?"

"Y/N."

As the waves were almost minimal you walked further in the water to reach him, to touch his gills, or attempt to catch his hair. Eros discerned your steps and with malice in his eyes, he reached you, his stature nearly the same as yours since he had to be lowered so his tail would remain in the ocean.

"You are not afraid of me?"

"Merfolk are good creatures, they protect the oceans."

"We do, and do you know who we protect the oceans from? I mean who we fight to maintain very far away?"

Remembering the time your aunt said of some species of birds that sink in the ocean to find fishes made you thoughtful, after all in summer it was more than twenty million birds catching fishes. "Birdies."

"No, humans. Your species."

"But we protect too, I and aunty Betty clean the beaches and never toss trash in water."

"Uhu, tell me, little human, would you like to see the ocean? To see the fishes that grace it and even dolphins?"

Dolphins didn't go to the land side you lived in, and you only ever saw dolphins on movies or documentaries.

"Dolphins?!"

He nodded so you jumped excited, ready to see the fishes and luckily the dolphins. 

But Eros' idea was contrary, humans were nothing else than a virus slaughtering everything they reached, he knew by how much his grandfather said, that in a distant time ago the ocean was astonishing. It didn't have fallen boats, trash, sewers, nor industries discharging electronic garbage, much less the pharmaceutical ones pouring tons of medications in the water. So getting freed of a stupid human would maybe avoid a little bit more of destruction.

Extending his hand you held it and he pulled you with him a bit further in the water, your feet missed the sand's ground and you moved your little legs to manage to have air. Eros chortled before taking your body and pulling you down in the water, startled by the agile gesture you cracked your lips to gasp and lamented it when water began to fill your mouth.

He swam into the ocean making the beach farther from your, impossible, reach. Your small lungs were on fire when Eros approached a few of his friends, there stood Melin, Jaxi, and Kae. They were puzzled to see a human cub and swam up to the surface to reach the rocks near the mountains.

Eros rolled his eyes but accompanied them to reveal them his... toy.

"What do you think you are doing?" Kae was the first to speak up.

"This was stupid enough to swim alone in the beach over Walrey Coast, it even came to me telling tales." The mermen stared at your unconscious body.

"You cannot kill humans, you know that." Jaxi pointed and Eros rolled his eyes.

"What difference does it make? Our parents are always complaining about   them!"

Melin was quiet but shot Eros a look, it was forbidden to hurt humans unless they hurt you. 

And what a human cub would have done alone to hurt Eros? Since all of them were reaching puberty and were becoming stronger and faster? "Eros, you can't."

"Why is everyone bothering me with this? You know what. Done." He unfolded his arms and your body started to float backward in the water, Jaxi pulled you delicately to his chest and touched your neck before looking at Kae and giving a small nod signally that, even if weak, you still had a pulse. "You guys aren't considering of-"

"Killing an innocent cub is wrong, you know that, doesn't matter the species." Kae pointed.

Melin nodded and faced the rocks before glancing at Jaxi and Kae. "We can try to put the water out. It might not be different from saving a sea bear, we only have to press the stomach for them to spit the water."

Eros swam to Jaxi's side and pulled your moveless arm. "It is mine and will be killed and exhibited to our community." He closed his fist around your arm which made his nails pierce through your cold skin.

"She won't!" Kae affirmed and even Melin could spot a protective tone on his voice. "You'll go back and tell Ecthelion what happened, and that me, Jaxi and Melin are trying to save a cub that you tried to hurt."

Biting his tongue Eros looked at his three cousins before diving in the water and going to tell the colony elder. Kae gazed at the injuries and leaned to suck the blood of your wounds before it could touch the water and call any shark.

Kae retrieved his lips and placed his hand over -the less bleeding- wounds and told Jaxi to swim so they would follow.

Under the moonlight, Kae jumped in the rocks and made sure to only touch the polished parts so it wouldn't hurt his tail. Jaxi lifted you so Kae pulled you to his chest, and since you were smaller it was easier for him to fit you on his lap. Jaxi accompanied Kae by jumping in the rocks and touched your face trying to decipher if your color was a light purple or not. Melin dive in the sea to find some seaweed to place on your nails' cuts. It helped them with wounds so maybe it would help you too.

"Don't die now, human cub." Kae spoke and Jaxi touched your shirt taking it off to expose your belly, he ran his hand over the skin and looked at Kae. Human anatomy was different than polar bears.

Jaxi pressed and it only seemed to hurt you. "Here, hold her."

"Her?"

"It looks like a female right?" Kae asked.

"All of them seem the same when they are cubs."

Jaxi held your head on his lap while Kae extended your legs. He leaned and placed his hands over your chest and started to pump. 

He looked at Jaxi and they analyzed the lack of gills. "They breath only through the nose." Taking a deep breath and letting an annoying sigh Jaxi cursed Ers under is breath.

Kae paid attention in the way the air left Jaxi's mouth and had an idea. "The mouth."

"What?"

Kae leaned to touch your lips with his and moved his hand carefully to open your lower lip. Realizing it was useless he reached your nose pressing it together and tried to suck the water out of you. Jaxi was surprised by the gesture but didn't understand how that would possibly work.

Getting his hands back at your chest he started to press and kept doing the gesture. "That won't take the water out. They won't-"

Spilling water out of your mouth you coughed with the burning feeling in your throat. Opening your eyes you gazed at the creatures touching you and you yelled completely scared. Kae moved his head by the loud sound but Jaxi shushed you. "We will not hurt."

Crying you started to try to get up. "You will. He did."

Kae sighed seeing that you remembered Eros, you winced and Kae looked up to see you were gazing at the arm's wounds caused by Eros' nails.

Kae placed his hand on your forehead and almost whimpered when you cried completely scared of him. "Sleep." He whispered and you dozed off.

Some merfolk were blessed with gifts, Kae happened to be one of them.

Melin appeared in the water surface by Jaxi's side and lifted some seaweed in his hands so Jaxi could place it on the cuts.

"They didn't wake up?" Melin asked and Kae stole two seaweeds and rolled it around your arm.

"She did but its too scared to hear us." Kae explained, doing his best to prevent his nails to hurt you, again.

Melin gave Jaxi a look and shared a thought when they realized Kae was too worried about your wounds and cold body.

"Kae, we should take them back-"

"Her." Kae corrected.

"Right, take her back. She is too cold and will die here."

Kae looked at them and back at you a couple of times before nodding, but before he could move your body to Melin's arms so he and Jaxi could get into the water and take you to your land, someone broke in the surface.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ecthelion spoke and the young mermen looked at the eldest from their village.

"Eros explained to you?"

"Yes, and i want to know why this human cub is still here."

"Eros hurt her, pierced her skin with his nails and we tried to prevent the blood to call the sharks."

The wise creature understood their point and moved his hand so Kae could place you in Melin's arms and reach him.

They did so and while Melin swam to Ecthelion's reach, Kae and Jaxi jumped in the water.

Ecthelion tasked as he felt your body temperature. He touched your forehead and mumbled ancient words.

Feeling protective of you and afraid that Ecthelion was sacrificing you, Kae reached your body and touched your forehead, prevent that the magic could reach your skin before touching his own. Melin and Jaxi felt anxious about the gest, Kae was the more peaceful of the cousins and the way he was intervening in something that the Ecthelion was doing was unusual.

"You will kill her?"

Gazing at Kae's hand and protective stance, he retrieved his hand and checked your body temperature again. "No, i am making her forget."

"Why? There are thousands of humans that know about us. She isn't like those thieves that tried to sell us."

Kae was decided, all of them could see that. "I know, but she was hurt by us. What do you think it'll happen when she tells her family about it? Or what her people will do if she tells them that merfolk are getting young children and killing them for fun?"

Jaxi cursed Eros under his breath. "They won't think this, it was only Eros that hurt her, we helped." Jaxi explained.

"She is a cub, she won't be able to recognize the difference. For our sake and hers, give me space." Melin touched Kae's shoulder and the young merman swam away allowing Ecthelion to work in your memories.

Seeing a light blue smoke touched your forehead, the old merman retrieved his hand and called the boys to hold you. "Take her home, I'll tell in the docks across there what happened, so Tony can find her and take her to their healers. Go, she doesn't have much time." Kae pulled your body to his and watched as Ecthelion dive in to warn his human friend that lived in the docks about you.

Jaxi touched your arm, which got Kae's attention. "Come on, she doesn't have much time."

Accepting the departure Kae dive in and they swam fastly till they reached Walrey Coast.

There Kae went further he could reach, trying to place you in the dry sand, but his tail would get hurt if he pressed it to harshly so he extended his hand and neared you in the wet sand, the waves still touched it but your nose was safe from water and by the car lights in the distance, he knew your kind was coming to reach you.

He looked behind his shoulders and saw Melin and Jaxi farther and since their eyes weren't focused on him, he took that advantage to kiss your forehead. "Bye, little human. I hope Neptune will keep you safe, and if I'm lucky enough, we will see each other again."

A car stopped and a man with a uniform came running, Kae turned back and swam before they could see him. 

In a distance, he reached the surface and watched as they pulled you out of the water, a small golden ring falling from your finger, Kae felt sad that you lost such pretty thing, a cloth was placed around you and the humans ran away to save your life.

Finally, when the car left Kae had to swim in his previous spot where he have left you to search for the ring, duo his better vision it didn't take too long for him to find it.

Kae held the small thing that only served in his pinky. He held the golden bijou and went home.

Sad that you forgot about him, he hopes Neptune will hear his prayers and that he will find you again.

One day.

                        🧜🏻‍♂️

[carelessannie]

Because I have no patience, here’s the first chapter of my three part Reverse Little Mermaid Winteriron AU

while we're devoting full time to floating chapter one: floating in a blue lagoon

Rating: T (for now) Word Count: 3.5K Relationships: Tony x Bucky, background Natasha x Wanda Warnings: Prejudice against Merpeople, Steve’s kind of an ass, boat violence, magic use Read on AO3

Chapter One | Chapter Two

---

Spring-time has broken— making way, quickly, for a blazing summer. Celebratory music carries from the interior of the city, echoing from the palace in the center all the way out to the surrounding villages, drawing citizens closer— like moths to a joyful flame. Heading in the opposite direction, unseen by guards and villagers, two silhouettes slip toward the shoreline.

Up ahead is an expansive boathouse, accessible only by royal decree and permission from the crown. Bucky lifts up on his toes to check through the window for officers or other sailors— no one in sight. His key easily unlocks the door and he holds it open for Alpine to sprint through.

Bucky pads across the dock, heading for his humble fishing boat and checking for guards, whistling low between his fingers to call his Border Collie to his side. Alpine comes bounding over, shaking out her pure white coat, and pants, eyes wide with excitement.

“Quiet, Alpine,” he hisses, motioning to stay low, “almost there, girl.”

Towards the end of the dock, he can see his boat. Restored over years of hard work, The Widow sits proudly at the end of the line, beckoning him to sail away. He helps Alpine climb inside and makes haste to cast off, pushing away from the dock and dipping his oars into the gentle waves.

The sun is hot, but Bucky doesn’t mind it. His gaze is locked ahead and his focus is sure. The waters are quiet as he rows out into the open ocean, letting the current push him parallel to the coastline and away from the village.

It’s not like he’s running away— no. He just knows his brother would stop him if he knew, and it’s far too close to migration to wait another day.

After a while, he sees the cove— his favorite spot, sheltered under a familiar rocky cliff— and steers towards it. Once he’s close, Bucky tethers the boat to a nearby boulder. He helps Alpine out and climbs up the jagged rocks, settling over the water.

Here he adjusts his covering and removes a few flat stones, revealing provisions he stored long ago in a discreet iron box. Bucky lays on his belly, wiggling until he can peak over the edge.

Then he waits.

It doesn’t take long. With lenses pressed to his face, his enhanced view picks up movement below. Three large figures, cutting gracefully through the crystal clear water, swim into focus. Bucky holds his breath, taking only a moment to scrawl a few details onto his journal pages. Remarkable.

He watches the Merpeople hesitantly explore the cove underneath and talk animatedly between each other. Bucky only hears snippets of conversations as they surface, and it seems like a dark haired, red-tailed Mer is their leader. The other two— the first with bright red hair, and the second with darker skin— follow the red-tailed Mer around the shallow waters, inspecting rocks and plant life, talking distractedly about a settlement nearby.

“These waters are clear, no remnants left from past colonies.”

Bucky knows this already. He’s been observing Mer migration patterns for years, and none of them ever stay long enough to impact the nearby ecosystems. Still, he jots down a note about their self awareness.

“Still, the access to resources and deeper waters is desirable in this area.”

This Bucky knows as well. Outside of the cove and the surrounding reef, there’s a steep drop off down into unexplored waters. He’s tried to swim down a few times, but hasn’t yet found the floor.

Finally the red-tailed Mer speaks, he voice deep and alluring, causing Bucky’s head to snap up in surprise—

“I’m sure the King would be thrilled to hear of this discovery,” he drawls, and something in his tone convinces Bucky that this King would decidedly not be pleased. “Take a few samples, keep them close. I’ll study them in my lab when we get back and present them to the King myself.”

Bucky has to stop himself from chuckling. He understands exactly how this Mer feels about his King, and he’s instantly endeared. He can’t, for the life of him, tear his gaze from the red-tailed Mer. The man is striking, beautiful and full of life, and Bucky has never seen one like him before. His body is lean and toned like most Mers tend to be, but something about his posture screams authority and importance. He sighs, knowing the three of them will probably move on, migrate further south and into warmer waters.

He pulls away to take a drink from his water flask and sees a flash in the corner of his eye. Something approaching— fast and dangerous. The Mers below are oblivious, and the next thing he knows, they’re being circled and cornered by three, large Tiger sharks.

Bucky gets to his knees, gripping the rocks as he watches the sharks close in, forcing the Mers to press together a few meters in front of the cove.

The largest shark attacks. It’s a flurry of motion and violent waters as the other two follow suit, converging on the Mers from all sides. It seems as though each Mer fights a single shark, and they draw vicious, serrated weapons to slice through the water.

But the Tiger sharks are quick. The largest one whips, lightning fast, and catches the red-tailed Mer in the chest, sending him careening into the rocky wall. The other two Mers are chased away. They dodge and swim through the shallow waters and disappear out of sight to avoid the close pursuing sharks. Bucky glances down, watching in horror as the largest shark closes in on his prey below.

The red-tailed Mer isn’t moving, and the shark is swimming closer. Bucky scrambles, picking up his own hunting knife, and stripping off his shirt and boots before diving off the cliff.

His attack takes the shark by surprise, and Bucky plunges into the water, striking clean and slicing through the predator. Blood pours out of the open wound and Bucky has to surface, gulping in air as he watches the shark retreat.

He sheaths his weapon and turns, looking for the injured Mer. Bucky dives down and sees him drifting against the rocky wall, propped up and unconscious. When Bucky gets closer he finds blood, fresh and urgent, seeping out of the Mer’s wound— dead center on his chest.

Without hesitating, Bucky pulls the Mer up to the surface. He swims, slowly but effectively, back to the cove and rests against the rocky shore, letting the vibrant tail hydrate in the water.

“Hey,” Bucky looks into the man’s face, gently pushing back a thick strand of dark hair, “wake up, please. C’mon, I need you to wake up.”

The wound is still bleeding, slower than before, but persistently trickling down into the pool of water.

“Okay, okay… dammit,” Bucky curses, “stay here,” he instructs, mostly for his own sake, and sprints out of the cove, climbing the rock face to retrieve his shirt and a few supplies. Herbs and spices can usually make a good potion, even for inexperienced users— which Bucky definitely isn’t . He rubs a few together in his hands as he ducks back into the cove, kneeling next to the unmoved Mer. Gently, so gently, Bucky presses his fingers against his skin to rub the potion into the wound, wrapping it tenderly with strips of his own shirt after.

The Mer groans, hunching in to protect the wound instinctively.

“No, darling, let me heal it,” Bucky begs, laying the man down again while he works. He looks around. It would help if there was...

Aha! A golden ring dangles from the Mer’s neck, a perfect vessel for a healing spell. Bucky slips the ring on his own finger, taking a deep breath before performing the spell. It’s taxing. It hurts. But Bucky can see the ring glow and flex on his finger, accepting the enchantment and waiting for it’s impending assignment.

The ring is laid back on the Mer’s chest, still attached with the delicate chain, and Bucky is satisfied when he sees the wounds rapidly closing. He sighs in relief, holding the Mers hand and feeling the delicate pulse even out. He wishes he could see the man’s eyes, at least once. Damn the King and his stupid laws.

Movement, stirring from the Mer, and Bucky knows he must go. He can’t help but lean closer, studying the breathtaking features of this man’s face and pressing a lingering kiss onto his temple, before withdrawing and racing for his boat. He whistles for Alpine to join him, and takes off for the village. He’s been away far too long, and the King is bound to have noticed his absence.

---

“Do you know what you have done?”

The King, his brother, is fuming— full of violent rage that even Bucky shys away from. He had pulled Bucky off his boat the moment he returned, ordering the guards to seize him and The Widow for crimes against the crown.

“And to see the Merpeople again, I should have known. How could you, Buck? Openly disregarding my decree and putting all of our people in jeopardy— for what? Research?”

“He was dying!”

“Better him than another one of us.”

Bucky recoils, “You don’t mean that. The Mers have always been peaceful—“

“And that’s because they are ignorant of our existence— dammit Buck! What if he had seen you?”

“He didn’t.”

“And he won’t.”

“What does that mean?” Bucky asks, daring to look his brother in the eye. All he finds is cool indifference.

“It means that until further notice, I’m confiscating your traveling privileges. You will serve in my court and retire to your chambers, guarded as to not leave the grounds— is that clear?”

“Steve, what the hell—“

“You may keep the company of your dog,” the King, his brother and best friend, sets his jaw and points towards Bucky’s beloved boat, “but as a consequence for disgracing your King and country, my guard will take care of your transportation.”

“No!” Bucky cries, fighting the strong hold on his arms as two members of the royal guard unceremoniously drop a torch into his boat, setting it on fire. “Damn you, Steve!”

They let him struggle, thrashing and yelling to no avail, and the crowd watches as his most prized possession is burned to ashes. Bucky falls to his knees, speechless.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the King retreat, walking out of sight without even the courtesy of a dismissal. His vision blurs red.

Steve never listens.

The guards haul him up by the armpits, but Bucky barely even notices. He lets himself be dragged away and led back to his quarters, collapsing onto his bed with a sob as they lock the doors behind him. He feels Alpine crawl up next to him, and he holds her close, soaking her fur with heaving, furious tears.

When the sun goes down, Bucky packs a bag. It’s not an issue to find a way out of the palace— he’s been doing that for years. The issue is tracking down his contact, making sure she still lives across the bay, and convincing her to help him. Her allegiance is strong with the King, but he thinks he might have the upperhand to a few of her debts.

Bucky drops a quick kiss to Alpine’s head, tying a note around her collar. It won’t help to have her starving and the kingdom torn apart in his absence, so he quickly charms the letter to sooth and calm it’s readers. That should give him enough time to evade any search and rescue.

From there, it’s a simple shimmy out the window, a well-timed jump across a few balconies, light-footed paces through empty streets, and then, thankfully, a straightforward hike out of the city. The sun has long since set. Bucky pushes forward, ignoring the increasing chill as he climbs in elevation— his destination is just up ahead.

Before he crosses into her wards, Bucky comes to a stop. He searches the ground for… yes! A small ring of stones lies around her cottage, strengthening her security and vigil over her land, and Bucky kneels in front of them, gently laying his fingers on the ones nearby. It only takes a moment of letting his walls down, power flowing down his arms and into his hands, and he smiles to feel a warm thrum in response. The wards accept his familiar presence, and he stands to make his way to the cottage that lies behind the tree covering.

“You had better have a good excuse to be here, James.”

He hears her greeting before he spots her in the doorframe, curves silhouette tantalizing and a stark contrast from the light within the house. He smiles, picking up his pace and running forward, “Oh, Nat. Damn, if it isn’t good to see you.”

Natasha lets him swing her up into his arms, but gives a stinging flick to his ear.

“I’ve already heard of your transgressions, James. When will you just accept your brother’s rule, and learn that his word is law?”

Bucky sweeps into the cottage and leads the way to her personal rooms. It seems as though someone else has been living in this space— there’s another, strong, trace of magic intertwined with Natasha’s. He ignores her implications and raises an eyebrow, “Who are you hosting, Nat?”

The grin Natasha throws him is downright feral, and Bucky almost regrets asking. She brings her fingers up to her lips and whistles, brief and sharp.

“Her name is Wanda, she will join us momentarily,” Natasha pours him herbal tea, gesturing for them to sit in the living space. He allows himself to put his bag down, but he lets himself fidget a little bit— cataloging his urgency to his friend and trusting her to pick up his unspoken needs. “Tell me, pretty Prince— why are you seeking me out after such drama, at this time of night?”

He frowns at her moniker, but decides to give it to her straight, “Steve’s bias has gotten out of hand. I witnessed an exploration party of three Mers out by my cove, and there was a shark attack. The leader of their party was knocked unconscious, so I intervened to stop the shark from killing him. I had to swim him to safety, Nat, and I enchanted his ring with a healing spell. I left before he could wake up, and when I got back…” Bucky breathes, breaking his eye contact with Natasha, “well, it sounds like you’ve heard the rest.”

Her face falls in a genuine show of regret, “I’m really sorry, James, I know how much—”

“It’s fine,” he cuts her off, “I just need help convincing Steve that Mers are worth protecting. He just sees them as a threat, and he hates their ignorance about us. He doesn’t trust it. But they’re incredible, Nat, honestly. And this one I saw today… damn.”

Her eyes gleam, mischievous, “Oh? You have a crush on the Mer you saved and healed with your magic— how surprising.”

“Shut it, Nat,” he hisses, rolling his eyes as she cackles, “I’ve never seen a man so beautiful in my life. And, I don’t know, something about how he spoke, his voice and his humor—”

“James, I hate you.”

“— excuse me?”

“I now owe Clint a very large sum because of you.”

When Bucky fails to react, Natasha just sighs, “He bet you’d fall in love with a Mer. I just didn’t think you were that stupid.”

“Hey! I’m not in love—”

“Sure, Jay,” she laughs, turning to face the back stairwell as Bucky throws a pillow at her, “oh! Wanda! Please, come in and meet James.”

Standing at the bottom of the staircase is a petite girl, maybe a few years younger than Bucky himself, with auburn hair that rivals Natasha’s in brilliance. He can feel her power from here. A shiver runs down his spine.

She’s careful to walk into the room, as though any sudden movement may set off a catalyst of magic strong enough to rip the room apart. And he honestly doesn’t doubt that could happen.

“This is Wanda,” Natasha introduces them, and Bucky reaches to take her tiny hand in greeting. She looks one part terrified, and another part… angry? She still shakes his hand and mumbles a pleasantry. He knows that if Steve were here, she would probably be arrested for insolence to the crown or something comparable.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wanda. You can call me Bucky, everyone besides Natasha does.”

The look on her face says she will most likely not be calling him Bucky.

“Well, why don’t you spend the night here, James?” Natasha asks, standing to her feet and gliding into the kitchen, “we have a spare room, and can talk strategy in the morning.”

“I’d rather—”

“I insist,” Natasha cuts him off. She pours him a glass of water and pushes it into his hand, “I’m going to sleep. You know where the guest room is.”

“Isn’t…” he awkwardly motions towards Wanda, confused about the sleeping arrangements until he sees the flush in Wanda’s cheeks, the salacious grin on Natasha’s face.

“You don’t worry about us, our arrangements work just fine. Get some rest, James,” and with that, Natasha disappears up the staircase with a small kiss to the top of Wanda’s head. To his surprise, Wanda doesn’t move a muscle. She’s still staring at him, and it starts to get uncomfortable as they sit in silence.

Bucky clears his throat, “So, how did you—”

“I can help you with your problem.”

He does a double take, “— get… uh, what? Which problem?”

Wanda takes a seat across from him, but her posture is anything but relaxed. It’s her facial expression that makes him freeze— not just anger and fear, but knowing. Understanding. He curses himself because instead of scaring him, the knowledge in her eyes draws him closer.

She tilts her head to the side, slightly, “With your Merpeople. And with your brother. I’ve seen the conflict and I witnessed the shark attack. I know how your heart thrums in time with this red-tailed Merman, and how you long for it to beat in time with your brother, the King.”

“How do you—”

“You assume Natasha told me, but rest assured, my power and devices stretch far beyond her secret spies. I have a deal to offer you, and in return, you will earn the ear of the King and the heart of the sea.”

Bucky gives her a suspicious eye, but in reality, his heart is pounding. This girl, barely old enough to inherit land, is offering him the depths of his desires. But he knows mages, understands their loopholes and caveats.

“Tell me, Wanda— what is your scheme? What would be my payment?”

“Simple,” she answers, gaze going distant, “I’d first give you access to the King of the sea. Through the Mer you saved, his only son, you will forge a treaty between land and ocean. I will give you a way in, but in turn, you will have to enter the same spell all Mers are under: to forget and lose humanity. You will still remember names and faces and stories, but all will be in a cloak of ignorance. Like them, you will have no knowledge of the world above.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, “How am I supposed to forge a treaty between the two worlds if I can’t remember the one I’ve come from?”

“A royal alliance will break the spell. Marriage or covenant between the Prince of the land and Prince of the sea will not only break the cloak of ignorance on your mind, but also the ignorance of all who live in the Mer kingdom.”

His mind is racing. On one hand, he’s never easily put his trust in a strange mage, even one who seems to be… intimate with Natasha. On the other, he’s been looking for a way into the sea kingdom for years. Her spell could be the bridge that brings everything together.

“Oh, but there is one catch, James.”

“I knew it.”

“If you cannot get the Prince to fall in love and wed you, the enchantment on your memories will keep progressing. You will not only forget humanity, but you will completely forget yourself as well.”

“Does Natasha know you’re offering me this deal?”

“She knows we’re discussing it, yes.”

“How long would I have until my memories start to fade?” Bucky asks. He can’t believe he’s actually considering this.

Wanda seems to consider it, “No less than a month, no more than three.”

“So I’d give up my humanity, get this prince to fall in love with me, and break the spell over their kingdom. If I can’t do it, I’m lost to the sea forever— sound about right?”

Her mouth quirks up in a smile grin, “That’s about the gist of it.”

He thinks about Steve. About his life in the city— all the people who would miss him, and about Alpine and Natasha and even his royal guard. He thinks about the stunning, striking Mer from this afternoon. His ruby scales and cutting wit. Bucky desperately wants to see his eyes.

He looks down at his hands and sighs, straightening his back in determination.

From there, the decision isn’t hard.

[joonkorre]

its crazy late but

@drarrymicrofic prompt: blanket fort

(there’s no plot. none. just dudes being guys, guys being pals)

(caution: not very micro, more like a one shot. a whole lot of anecdotes. i’m writing this under a blanket with snow beating at my window, so of course this has to be very soft and warm. you have been warned)

“Hello?” Harry says into the dark. He’s just gotten home and instead of seeing the familiar orange hue of their beetle-shaped lamp (a gift from Luna, of course), there’s a single sliver of moonlight slipping through the curtains. Nothing else seems to exist in the living room but the echo of Harry’s greeting. Tangerine and sage drift into his nose, followed by the bitter tang of smoke. The scent of Draco’s favorite candle, newly extinguished.

Draco just left. Discovered a breakthrough in his research and fled to the Ministry lab, maybe.

Harry sighs. Unlaces his boots and hangs up his coat absentmindedly only for it to crumple onto the floor. Another sigh. He bends and retrieves it, deciding instead to throw it in the laundry bin. Might as well; he’s been trudging around in Dayhound mucus for hours and neither his dragonhide boots nor coat were spared. 

Walking into the kitchen, Harry grabs a glass from the drying rack and pours himself water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s ridiculous how a simple act like this can drain his energy so, but it does. Curse breaking isn’t a walk in the park; even walking hurts, considering the amount of magic he expends on shite like a 500-year-old wailing locket on a day to day basis. Exposure to different kinds of magic - dark, Old Magick, elemental, countlessly and endlessly more- for 8 hours straight more often than not result in a fierce ringing in his temples and pinpricks on his skin.

After years of doing it, he can scarcely tolerate one Portkey trip from wherever he’s assigned to back to the main headquarter before getting uncontrollable shivers. Another 30 minutes on the metro, then a 10-minute walk home. In addition, Harry has to sleep for at least 8 hours every night to replenish his energy. Morning comes, he wakes up, Apparates to the headquarter, and the cycle continues.

Why does he even stick with curse breaking at this point? Right, a wry grin graces Harry’s lips, Draco thinks the uniform is hot. Oh, and can’t forget the job benefits, insurance, whole nine yards.

With the glass now rinsed and settled once more on the drying rack, Harry drags his feet to the bedroom. The clock - an antique Draco stole from his cheating ex - hits 7:18 PM, but getting ready to go to sleep sure sounds like a decent idea. Harry palms the back of his aching neck and winces. He’d go shower, scrub the dirt and tension off his limbs, and maybe heat up the leftovers from two days-

“There you are. I was wondering how much longer drinking water could take.”

Harry looks up from his slippered feet to see Draco. Or, more specifically, Draco’s silhouette. Behind some kind of white cloth. A white cloth that’s conveniently placed where the focus of the bedroom should’ve been. 

The relief at seeing his husband evaporates.

“What,” Harry says, “where’s our bed.”

Draco’s silhouette crawls to the opening of the cloth… tent-shaped thing. Pewter grey eyes peer at him behind strands of near-platinum blonde, its icy color soothed by the orange tint of… ah, so he’s brought the bug lamp in here. Neat.

“I,” Draco answers. Pauses. “Might have brought it somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else.”

“Yes.”

Harry shakes his head. An exasperated chuckle escapes his lips.

“Is ‘somewhere else’ the recycling center?”

“Why,” Draco flops down on the floor, appearing tired of holding himself up on his elbows for more than 10 seconds. It’s peculiar to see, the gesture a bit ungraceful for someone like him. Harry is helplessly in love amused. “Do my ears deceive me? Am I being confronted, cornered, accosted for being a good husband? Were the 5 minutes it took to Shrink and Levitate the wretched old thing away from our safe haven worth your condescension, dear lover?”

“I guess I did say I hate-”

“Correct!”

“-the headboard. Nothing but the headboard. Yesterday. While I’m half asleep. Baby.”

“Oh, pish posh, I hate it too! In fact, I’m doing us both a favor disposing of the entire thing altogether.”

“God, however can I thank you? I mean, you did rid us of our bed where we sleep on.”

“You can thank me by taking off those horrid gears faster and come here,” with that, Draco crawls back to where he was sitting before.

“You love these gears,” Harry says, hanging his harnesses and tool belt in the closet and walking into the bathroom for a quick shower, “you love them against your ba-”

“Put a lock on that filthy mouth, Potter, what will the Daily Prophet think?” Draco’s yell almost drowns out the shower spray. Harry laughs, his stomach hurting for the right reason at last.

When he re-enters the bedroom, Draco is leaning out from the tent thing.

“Come, get in, get in,” he beckons with a hasty wave.

Harry points to his wet hair with the hand holding his towel. Draco clicks his tongue and waves his hand more aggressively.

His husband’s level of theatrics is directly proportional to how slow Harry is at doing what he says, so he nods, fondness overflowing, and obeys.

“What’s all this?” He crouches and crawls in, eyeing the collection of pillows and quilts surrounding Draco and what would be Harry’s seat. It seems that he had also lugged in the chairs from their dining room to provide some structural support for the tent.

“A blanket fort, lover,” Draco says, his gaze tender. Harry’s finger tips tingle with every touch of cotton, linen, silk, as he gets situated. It’s been years and years and years and years, and Harry can never get used to, can never take for granted, the weight of his husband’s undivided attention.

“Huh,” he says, sitting down with an ‘oof’, “isn’t this for kids?”

“A blanket fort is a blanket fort,” Draco takes the towel from Harry’s arm and puts the throw pillow Ron knitted in his lap. He hits a button on the laptop in front of them, and Harry’s favorite jazz collection plays. He blinks. He thought Draco would play his questionable atmospheric-white-noise-POV-you’re-having-tea-in-a-gothic-vampire-library playlist, the weirdo.

Velvety smooth sax flows through the air. Harry exhales, easy and content, and lets Draco tilt his head. He towels Harry’s hair, massaging unhurried circles on his scalp and varying the degree of pressure. In no time, his head lolls forward, eyes closed, chin a breath away from his well-worn shirt. A slender, pale hand cups his cheek and holds his head up and steady. Meanwhile, the hand’s owner leans out of the blanket fort to get something.

“Ow.” A grunt. Harry smiles; most likely a cramp from all the leaning.

Then, his husband reseats himself, this time with a smell. A mouth-watering, delicious smell, tickling the back of Harry’s nose. He opens his eyes to see Draco lifting off the lid of a ceramic bowl perched on a tray, steam floating out and fogging Harry’s glasses. It’s purple yam soup, topped with chopped up shrimp and ground beef.

“Your usual order from the Viet place nearby whenever Pepper-up isn’t sufficient,” Draco murmurs, placing a spoon in Harry’s hand, his words warm against Harry’s temple. Huh, he didn’t think Draco would notice. “You said today you’d deal with those disgusting booby traps you showed me, thus I reckoned I should put the yams on our counter into good use.”

Harry stares at the soup, stunned. Draco must have taken his expression as something else.

“Oh, right,” he says, “I heated it up on the stove, but you were taking atrociously long so I casted a Heating charm. Let me take it off, okay?”

Draco flicks his hawthorn wand, a hand squeezing Harry’s shoulder as if he could see the prickling running up Harry’s nape.

He turns to look at his husband. When Harry’s career was starting to take its toll on his magical core, Draco didn’t hesitate to dive headfirst into Muggle living. Easier said than done, and it took months for him to stop frowning at the “absolutely bizarre, Potter, bizarre” appliances, but he got there in the end. Despite his constant bitching about everything, Draco not once raised a word about the drastic switch, effortlessly guiding Narcissa to gossip about the Albescu clan’s abhorrent matriarch when she asks about how he’s faring.

“Gosh, I,” Harry says. Mumbles, really, into Draco’s collarbone, filling his brain with the woodsy aroma of potion making that no amount of expensive body products can mask, “that’s lovely, baby, thank you.”

“Eat,” Draco says, rubbing his chin on the top of Harry still-damp hair and messaging his tense neck. Harry knows he’s breathing him in too. “Or I’ll have to heat it up in the kitchen again, and forgive me but I’d rather stay here for the next 12 hours, at least.”

“Lazy arse.”

Draco laughs, a momentary rumble of his chest, then moves forward to click something on the laptop. Harry’s on his fifth spoonful of pure comfort when the jazz music stops, and on the blank wall opposite from their blanket fort is the title card of a movie. Strange, Harry didn’t even notice the mini projector. He squints.

“Why is there Korean subtitles?”

“Lover,” Draco tosses a napkin at Harry’s crossed legs, “what is watching movies online without the occasional bout of piracy?”

“Pira- piracy,” Harry chokes, the hot soup stinging his palate, “we have a Netflix subscription.”

“You can’t find shite like this on Netflix.”

“Of course we can. Baby, we don’t know anyone who’s good at computer stuff and can deal with the viruses.”

“There’s no virus here, I checked.”

“How,” Harry stresses, “and again, piracy.”

“Sometimes,” Draco says, lowering the speaker volume, “not doing crimes… is worse.”

“What the fuck,” the main character, a square-faced woman with a python around her neck, has a monologue in a completely different language. “What the fuck? Is that Italian?”

“Yes, but I’m French.”

“And?”

“And they’re both Romance languages. I can understand certain words and translate it for you.”

No, he can’t.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Keep eating,” Draco settles amid the pillows, long hair settled on his satin-clad chest, white against emerald. Harry sneers at him - an unfortunate habit he’s gotten from Draco - and turns to watch the movie.

True to his words, Draco translates every dialogue and mimics the characters’ voices with zeal, contradicting his stoic expression and somber, interlaced hands, looking like a cranky judge having to deal with reckless teenagers on their anti-authority phase. Harry can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing, and soon enough he’s woven a story about how the thriller-mystery they’re watching is actually a vicious custody battle over a duck. For each of Harry’s occasional snicker at the absurdity Draco has thought up is a playful kick at his ribs.

Minutes pass. With Harry’s bowl now emptied, he puts it on a chair and goes to wash up. 

The moment he sits back down, Draco’s big toe pokes at his spine. Getting the memo, Harry grins and reclines on the pillows. His left side is flushed against Draco’s right, the kinks in his neck eased off from the angle. They, as per usual, gradually get closer to one another, and at some point, Draco lays his head on Harry’s chest and ear on his beating heart. It’s calming to him, Draco had said when Harry asked, on the third night of their honeymoon. With the war long behind them, there was nothing to fear. Only the constellations existed as their witnesses.

“You died, Harry,” he had whispered, full and tipsy. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen, despite all the shite I made you go through.

“You were so far away in Hagrid’s arms, I couldn’t see your face,” the night had been blinding, but his eyes had found Draco’s anyway. “It felt like my heart died with you.”

Harry had kissed his forehead and hugged him close. His heart had always been there for Draco to take.

“What’s up with the blanket fort?”

He has a lapful of Draco, a lungful of peach and cedar scented shampoo, and the sleepy timbre of his husband’s voice against his chest. The Italian movie is the last thing on Harry’s mind. 

“I wasn’t aware of its existence growing up,” Draco says. “Having anything other than an immaculate bed when one wasn’t sleeping was uncouth, see, so you could imagine my surprise when Teddy demanded to play in something as messy as a fort so often.”

Harry doesn’t need to imagine it; he had witnessed it himself. Draco, freshly released from a two-year sentence in Azkaban, mellowed and tentative, yet determined to reconnect with his mother’s sister and his nephew. Harry had been wary too, standing in the corner of Teddy’s bedroom, staring at the fuzz of blonde on Draco’s shorn head and his weak gait. Teddy, the darling boy with his clumsy hold on Draco’s thigh, afraid that the haggard man would trip without help, had led him to his play area.

“Fort, fort,” the boy had screamed in Draco’s ear, but he hadn’t flinched. He had nodded and gone along with Teddy’s babbled directions, then sat back on his heels and fixed a wide-eyed stare at the monstrosity Teddy had called a fort (his designing skills were, unsurprisingly, underdeveloped at the mere age of two). 

Swiveling his head, he had gawked at Harry, who had still been standing in the corner with his arms crossed, confusion and hysteria in the arch of his aristocratic brows.

It had been the first time he had looked at Harry in the eye for years. In seconds, it was 6th Year all over again, with him watching Draco pushing his food around with a fork from across the room, unable to look away. Obsession, a voice unlike Hermione’s helpfully defined, had slithered up and under his skin. It had remained there for years, stubborn and ardent, an emotion he had tried to leave behind time and time again. He’d never succeeded.

It’s Draco, after all.

“He never let anyone but him enter the fort, remember? Back when he’s still making us build it for him?” Draco’s fingers tap a random rhythm on Harry’s stomach. Harry tightens his arm around him, shifts a bit. “So many forts and I still didn’t know what it’s like to be in one.”

Somebody downs a shot in the movie. Harry doesn’t quite register it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper one either until now. Didn’t have enough space in the cupboard. Plus, the hanging around the beds at Hogwarts felt pretty cozy by themselves.”

Draco hums. “Mhmm, I say. Another ‘first’ for us.”

Harry glances at the crown of his head. The man doesn’t sound surprised; Harry wagers that he already knows and decided to make one for the both of them today.

They continue to watch the movie in silence, whites and blues and purples flooding his sight, until Draco yawns and Harry blinks his eyes shut for far too long.

“Baby.”

“Hmm?”

“Sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Where, then? We have no bed.”

“I still maintain that I made the right choice”

“Jesus Christ, you’re so rash for an academic.”

“Well, in my professional opinion, sleeping in a blanket fort every blue moon does wonders for one’s quality of sleep,” Draco gets up on his elbow to smirk at Harry, “we can look at other beds tomorrow, can’t we? Now hush. Rest.”

“Ha,” Harry says, at least 5 more words to follow up on that just on the tip of his tongue. But then Draco runs a gentle hand through Harry’s hair, taking his time with it, the remaining hints of Harry’s migraine from work fading with every curl of hair carefully unknotted. He mumbles this and that, silly, insignificant things, engrossed in his task, and Harry listens carefully as his eyelids lower.

Draco takes off his gold-rimmed glasses (so sweet and soft Harry can barely feel it), cleans them and puts them on a chair. Through half-lidded eyes, Harry watches him cover them both with a quilt and return to Harry’s chest, curling up like a cat. Draco’s arm is around his midriff, peach and cedar pervading his senses anew, and Harry forgets whatever he was going to say.

Cold ankles pressed against bare calves, Harry is already deep asleep when the credits roll.

[one-piece-musings]

Comfort Food @sanjissunflower

Pinned By:: Bones

Pre-Wano Era Assumed

Story Tagging:: Straw-hat Encounters

It was an ordinary day for the straw-hats their captain hanging over the railing with complaints of boredom bringing about his first word of caution from Robin. The raven haired woman cast no cares to peer up from the pages she read but knew by instinct that Luffy was dancing too close to the edge with carelessness. The rubberman's eyes grew wide as he leaned forward to inspect what he had noticed afloat. A hand moved to secure his hat the captain pointing with the other completely distracted from the caution of his friend and doctor as he continued to lean forward.

"Ouiii....There's..."

The male began and before the statement had left him he lost his balance falling over with a grunt much to his surprise. A steady hand caught the now dangling captain the low growl bringing his attention to a very irritated cook. A curled brow twitched as he held the red shirt in annoyance, a tray of food carefully balanced in his free hand.

"Baka!!"

Sanji spat out tossing the reckless captain back on board the sunny content to turn with his own scolding's. Luffy only protested while ignoring their words pointing towards the sea in explanation.

The cook let out a deep sigh before glancing out to sea to explain that there was nothing that could be so interesting as to give his life. Much to his surprise he was wrong, strong hands gripping the railing in shock as the blond jumped up propping his body to give an accurate dive in retrieval. Luffy certainly couldn't do it and Zoro was in the middle of a nap completely unaware of the situation.

When the blond in perfect form dove into the sea Chopper lost it. Scurrying about the deck to protest the entire situation now transpiring. His frantic screams were only calmed when a steady hand reached out from the post to settle upon the reindeer's head. Robin smiled in assurance before calling for Usopp to turn back in a soft silky smooth voice.

Moments later a dripping blond peered down at the unfortunate woman. A careful hand brushed against her forehead the immediate search for life beginning without even so much as a greeting. When the Sunny circled back Sanji lifted her up by her shoulders to the awaiting hands of their captain. As Luffy hooked his rubber arms around her torso the blond gripped the others wrist to be pulled on board with the same swing lighting a quick much needed cigarette.

Moments later her eyes would open to a furry set of hooves tending to her in silence. Other strange faces would peer down at her as she regained consciousness the first to remark being the cook in whom shoved away everybody but chopper. The blond now dressed in a dark blue suit and white shirt approached a hand shoved into his pocket the other balancing a silver tray and covering. Each step was paced and patient giving her the time to at least get past the blurry vision of dehydration.

"Hello there, You're onboard the Sunny and I have brought you something to ease the pains of hunger."

The water that set corked was for her to slowly drink as she ate. Before he could finish his offer in detailed explanation a blur of red and yellow slipped past him stationing on the bed to peer down at her. His wide smile grew even wider as he leaned down with his introduction. His legs were on both sides of the female as he reached out to greet her.

The cooks curled brow would twitch a bit as his hand pulled from its pocket drawing into a fist. Before he could speak a tattooed arm reached forward to jerk the Captain from the girl with a whack to the head in warning. The ginger now towering over her captain as she scolded with the many things wrong with what he had just done.

Chopper quickly added in his own scolding's having already prompted the straw hats to back off. The ever so curious captain found his seat in a window-seal shoving a finger up his nose in boredom after being told that the food presented was not for him this time. Nami's concerns were that Luffy was going to scare the girl into a coma before they even had the chance to find out what happened.

Sanji only smiled bright when he was close enough to take a seat reaching out he give the woman an assuring smile. They were all so curious as to what happened that they all paused giving her time to collect her thoughts. He would offer words of comfort as the others distracted themselves in conversation. As the explanation came they all found their way around her to listen like children settled for a good nighttime story.

Sanji took the moment to present her meal lifting the cover to reveal a well displayed dinner. The same was offered to his friends awaiting them in the kitchen. Vinesmoke kept a well balanced plate to help her obtain the nutrients she was lacking. He had prepared a steak pot roast over rice to stick to her bones so she could rest peacefully. The dish was relatively easy to make for the cook and the vegetables added Sanji was certain to assist with her recovery.

"I certainly hope that your luck gets a bit better from here on out. At least while you are with us you can rest a bit. I only hope we didn't scare you too much in the process."

They told her many stories of their encounters to explain how cruel the seas could be over dinner. It was then Luffy with an expanded stomach had added the fact that he could not swim that things heated up again. The navigator with sharp teeth turned to scold the captain for carelessly hanging over the rail in the first place.

Sanji could not help but turn from her his arms folded over his chest as he stood to address how correct the navigator was. Heart shaped eyes bursting out as he made his way over to join his friends complimenting Nami the entire way with praises.

Before the night drew in she would find herself surrounded by a group of energetic pirates now in a deep slumber. The comfort food having put them all out including the cook himself. Hopefully, she could rest and join them the next day in all their antics. Her voyage wouldn't be too long on board the sunny yet she still could not help but set back with a small soft laugh thankful for her luck.

The moon peered through the window as the soft snores of the caring doctor in his small form interrupted her thoughts. Sanji slept on the opposite side silently his head resting on the edge of the bed. The cook too tired to move from his spot after their long night of fun.

Bones Speaks: ((I hope things get better for you and best of luck with whatever you are having to deal with dear.))

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

amber so have you seen the post of you saying ‘this is my ex-boyfriend steve’ and steve’s like ‘i told you to stop introducing me like this’ and ‘i’m her husband’ and i feel like chris would say the ‘this is my ex-girlfriend’ when you get married and yes i’m soft for him again (not like i have stopped)💕

A/N- I don't know, this one makes me SUPER SOFT AND I LOVE IT. Also going to add this as an entry to @jtargaryen18 30 Days of Chris Warning- Soft Smut

Vacation

Summary- 3.7k. Chris x Y/N. Chris flies you out to Red Sea Diving Resort Set for a couple weeks. 

You just boarded off your plane, the hot sun beating down on you was so much different then the hazy Boston mugginess you were used to. Behind you, your luggage flowed behind you, and you reached up to the top of your head to drop your sunglass, scanning among the crowd for that one familiar face, the one who insisted on you coming to visit cause he missed you that damn much and it had been weeks. Were you going to say no? Absolutely not, you missed him just as much.

There, there he was, his hand raised over his head, and waving back and forth to get your attention. He was weaving among the people and you ditched your luggage momentarily, sprinting to jump tackle him. Your legs firmly settled around his waist, arms around his neck and you pressed your face in against his neck, nuzzling that all to familiar spot you claimed as yours since day one. His hands had been held open wide to receive you, were now tight enough wrapping around you that it made you squeak and kiss nibbling the shell of his ear. “God damn Chris I missed you so damn much!” You pull back to look at him, and lean your forehead against his. He goes cross-eyed looking at you.

“I promise I have felt the same exact fucking way” His hand moved to the back of your head, and he slants his face to kiss you deeply, your tongues tangling, and your pleasantly surprised that his taste, it had a slightly saltier wild taste to it, it hit you right in your core, making you flex slightly and dampen. Oh my... Groaning into him, when he broke your kiss, your lick your lips and his eyes darken with a slight smirk playing the corner of his mouth. “Missed me a lot I can tell.” He let you slide to a stand, but kept you close as the two of you go to retrieve your ditched luggage before it was stolen.

Chris’s arm hung possessively low on your waist, feeling his hand slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin, his thumb feathering back and forth across the curve. Once you reached the bags, he was quick to grab the handle. You opted to shoulder your overnight bag, and Chris maneuvered you two through the rush of people all looking for loved ones, catch a plane, a small group of you heading to leave.

“How was the flight?” He asked, while digging in his khaki pants for keys to a vehicle, directing you two towards a jeep.”It was good, long but I had a great seatmate. They were visiting their son who was studying in the states.” You continue on while Chris pops open the back seat, he lowered the handle of your luggage, and slipped it into the back seat, you handed over your other bag as well to add to it. Closing the door, Chris caught you by surprise, backing you against the door of the jeep, your eyes cast up about to ask why when one hand braced to one side by your head, and his other hand went to caress your cheek, grasping slightly under your jawline.

“Ahhh baby, I missed this.” His eyes shining a different shade of blue, bright crystal orbs raking over your face, the pad of his thumb made its way to your bottom lip, tracing the seam. Okay, you missed this to you thought a bit breathless while you studied his expression. The hunger brimmed in his eyes and a flop of his hair fell forward when he encased your lips against his, his tongue tracing till your opened, sighing into the kiss. It all rushed to your head to make you fuzzy, unaware of anything but the man sliding his hand into your hair at the back of your head, tilting just enough.... exactly right to inhale any air from your body, and that rush buzzed through your system to lighten a fire in your belly. Ahhh baby, I missed this was right.

Chris was the one to pull away first, taking a deep and giving a bit of a grin. “Sorry darling, its been a long while, I might have gotten caught up in that.” You blink at him till it registered what he said, and tipped toed up to give him just a nip, lifting up your sunglasses off your face. “Handsome, you do that any time you are so inclined” Rubbing your hands against his chest, and he pulled you in close, rubbing his beard against your neck to make you squeal, which of course you did. It tickled. “Come on, its a bit of a drive to the hotel, and I want to get you there to enjoy it, baby. You're going to love it.”

The next half hour, you filled him in with everything going on in Boston that you didn't really talk about on the phone during your nightly calls. They were reserved for more important discussions. But now, the floodgates open, and you animated told him all about how Dodger trudged his lion all the way to grandmas when you went to drop him off, your boss getting all jealous about you going to South Africa for a few weeks, the fact they got a new coffee flavor at the local coffee shop, how the neighbor STILL had there singing Christmas lights up. Really just anything. During this, Chris reached over and took your hand, fingers weaved together and held against his thigh, once in a while he would lift it to nip on a knuckle and kiss the center, other moments he would tip his head back and laugh deeply in that way that would shake his whole body. A true genuine laugh.

You shift in your seat, as there is a rather annoying counsel between you two, so cuddling up was out of the question, but you could still look. In the weeks he's been here, it really suited him. His hair was longer, and no longer styled in the way Captain America had been, but free to flow naturally, framing his face with a slightly more rugged beard, all given to fit his latest role. Tinges of red highlighted in the sun matched the way his tan spread across his face, making his scattering of freckles across his nose really stand out. You had to admit, it was a look you really felt suited Chris.

“You feeling about this?” You reach over to brush back his hair a bit, it even felt different, the sun and ocean was good to his body, softer and sun-kissed.

Chris took a look at himself in the rearview before glancing at you “I like it, if I could just look like this for all my roles, I would. Its hell of a lot easier than having to trim it all up every few weeks. And makeup is a lot easier in the morning. They just add a bit of product in it, and let it do its own thing.” It was a well-known fact Chris would get bored in the makeup chair, and when he got bored, he got anxious and wound.

You dropped your hand to his beard, giving the gentlest of tugs, biting your lip. “Well Handsome, you know I've always been a fan of this.”

Chris barked a laugh, a bit smug as his hand went to the beard, rubbing his chin in that manner that made him look thoughtful. “Oh Im well aware Sweetness, and i plan on putting it to good use later.”

Oh my...

Your first glance at the ocean left you in a gasp, you immediately moved in your seat and buzzed down your window, a blast of hot airbrushed your hair back, and Chris reached over to turn off the ac, rolling down his own window, elbow hooking over the door as he speed up just a bit, bringing you closer to that insanely blue water. For once you felt something really did rival Chris’s excited blue eyes. It was just that damn blue.

Starting to slow down, his hand moving to hit the clicker, he turned onto a side road, bringing the jeep way back in speed as it bounced a bit on the rougher road, careful at the spots that sand pooled and spread. “Were staying right on set, the hotel had a spot all set up for us. Plenty of bungalows, and we got a nice one on the end. A bit away from the others.” There were some perks to being one of the headliners of this project and he pointed out towards the rows of a frame looking cabins, upon some stilts, nothing more then feet away from the waves, that were lapping so gently on the shore, it reminded you of a lovers caress, of Chris’s.

The jeep came to a stop at the end of the line, and you jumped out, waiting for Chris to come around, with your bag and luggage in tow. When you tried to take one, he took your hand instead and led you up the stairs. “Welcome home Sweetness” He popped open the door and it was better then you could have hoped for. Open floor plan, there was a small basic kitchenette, a table and chairs, a door leading off to a bathroom, and a bed with a mosquito net enclosing around it. Chris brought your luggage over towards the bed, moving aside the netting to set it at the end for you to get to it. And then he beckoned you towards him. “Close your eyes, this is the best part.”

“Alright, they are closed... “ You cover them and he slides open two slides, leaving the pack of the bungalow open to the view. He eased you to take a few steps to the left, and wrapped his arms around you, nibbling your neck playfully. “Chris! do I have to keep my eyes closed?” you squealed when his beard and lips tickled you, making you press back against his chest. Humming against your sweet spot between your neck and shoulder, he finally relented. “Okay, open them up Babygirl.”

You immediately dropped your hands to cover his over your stomach, weaving your fingers with his while studying what he wanted you to see. Pristine beach stretched just ahead of you, water lapping the shoreline no more then ten feet of that away. The deck was raised up off the beach, with stairs leading down. Your jaw dropped, and Chris laughed behind you at your reaction. Twisting to look over your shoulder at him, he kissed your forehead. “Wanna go play in the waves Sweetness?”

“Yes! I packed for plenty of beach days. All this, getting a proper tan.” Pulling you away from the view, he set to find his trunks, and you found your white bikini, stripping quickly out of your clothes, any jet lag completely forgotten. Chris came up behind you while you were trying the strings of the bikini, going to take the strings himself and tie them for you, groaning softly. “Fuck, you are hot in this.” Grinning, you pull away and go to tiptoes to twirl for him to see all of it, landing back on the balls of your feet.

“You think so? I had to have it rushed ordered last week when you called to tell me you were flying me out.”

Chris approached you again, his oversized hands smoothing the bare skin along your sides, looking you up and down for a moment, and nodding. “fuck baby, we might not even need to go down to the beach, and just have ourselves some fun right here.” He drew you into a kiss, nips on the lips and a slip of the tongue, your body sank into him, with your hands brushing over his chest, the short soft hairs tickling your palms, and even his body felt better from being here. Lean muscles tightened where your hands roved, flowing over his ribs and flattened against his back that spoke of Power. It was tempting, and you were about to relent.

Then he stepped back and took your hand, leading you outside, you have him a huff and incredulous look as he led you down the stairs. “Don't worry, later. I will take you apart, trust me.” Hitting the hot sand, you two jogged towards the water to not burn the bottoms of your feet. “Not if I don't get to you first...” Your tone lowered playfully as you splashed into the waves “... Captain.”

Chris snapped his hand against your white bikini covered ass just as you were about to dive in, laughing as you arched your body and plunged in, he continued wading as you slipped out further away into the waves. “Fucking tease....” He said with affection and followed after you, quick to slide up alongside you and catch you. You two swim for a while, and then as the evening started to roll around, go to shower off the salt and sand, making your way to dinner. Dinner was enjoyable, your eyes bigger than your mouth, and you had to try a bit of everything. Laughing at each other as some funny doubtful faces were made, quickly changing to surprise and enticing each other to take a bite with 'You just have to try it' passed between each other. To finish off, a bit of fresh fruit, and a walk on the beach once you two got back to the bungalow.

The beach was mostly abandoned, dark but the white sand and the expanse of stars overhead. You dug your toes in the sand, having ditched your dandles on the back deck when Chris suggested a late-night walk. “Thank you, Chris.” You smile up at him, seeing his face in shadows, and his hands rubbed against your hips, kissing your forehead as you pulled in close. “For what Babygirl?”

“For flying me out, you were right, this place is beautiful.”

“Tomorrow after I get done shooting our scene, we will drive around a bit so you can see everything.”

When you two stumbled back, tugging off clothing between your giggles and shared kisses, you fall against the mosquito net, the two of you forgetting it was there and end up ripping it down, getting tangled together, you're still laughing as Chris is cursing, trying to get it off from around your naked bodies. Finally once you two got untangled, the destroyed mosquito net shoved off to the side, Chris moved over you, kissing up your body with lavishing wet kisses, the salty ocean breeze blowing in where the doors to the beach had been left wide opened, you shivered with delight at the sensation.  

“Fuck. I. Missed. You.” He emphasized every word making his way up your body, nips and hands plumping your breasts, dragging his tongue over your nipples before kissing on them, then up your collarbone and to you neck. You couldn't help but roll underneath him, wrapping your legs around his lean hips and pushing fingers through that long softer hair of his and to his bunched shoulders, nuzzling in against his neck while sucking on his earlobe, giving a playful nibble on the lobe. “I couldn't tell Chris.” you giggled, which quickly turned into a lust-filled moan when he positioned himself and filled you, making you clutch to him, lightly biting his shoulder.

Once you relaxed back underneath him, Chris started to roll himself into you, grinding your hips together. “Right there...” You moaned within a few moments, tipping your head up to share a whining kiss, now it was Chris's turn to chuckle, cupping your face as he sped up, making your jaw drop slightly and eyes fluttering back. “Feel good baby?” He grunted, and all you could do was nod with urgency, rocking your hips back to meet him. When he snapped that tightly wound coil, a drop to of his hand rubbing against your nub, making you tighten, flutter around him, snapping high and breaking, you swore you saw the stars, just like the ones that danced the heavens above the ocean. He rode you through it, rolling his hips deeper, erratic till a shedder ripped through him, painting you with his cum. Kisses fell to your shoulder as his weight covered you, deep breaths shared and you didn't want him to move.

Your hands rubbed against his back that slowly started to ease under your hands, this was just as important to him as it was to you to be eased down, and your hands soon brought him into focus, arching up and kissing your forehead tenderly while easing out. You looked so content laying there, looking up at him that he couldn't help but pause and admire the moment, you soon broke the silence, weaving your hands together with his and letting your hands fall on either side of your head. “Love you.”

Smiling as he dropped kisses back to swollen lips and muttering against them. “Love you too.” and your bodies, urged you to continue, more orgasms and shared love to be had till in exhaustion, you two collapsed, the sweet breeze licking across your heated bodies while drifting off to sleep. Early morning, Chris got up early to shower, here he rose before the sun. Prepping coffee and a fruit salad in the fridge, he had it all set up on the table out on the deck, and when you started to stir, shorts and a tank top tugged on, you walked out to find him with bare feet up on the railing, coffee in hand, watching the sun come up on the ocean horizon, the landscape dotted with seagulls diving near the water looking for anything worthwhile. “Morning Handsome.”

Your hands drift through his hair, you really enjoyed it, and hoped he planned on keeping it for a while. His arm looped around your hip and tugged you into his lap, offering you his coffee, which you took a swallow gratefully before setting it down beside the bowl of fruit. Plucking a couple chunks of mango from it, you popped one in your mouth, and offered him one, which when he opened his mouth, you slipped it in. The fruit was sweet and smooth, juicy as you chewed, you selected another piece and nibbled on it while Chris rubbed your waist, letting his chin rub against your shoulder. “Mmhh, how are you this morning?”

Already your skin was taking on the sunkissed look that he appreciated, your face bright and exuberant as you smiled at him and offered him more fruit, you two sharing in the manner while you assured him that any soreness was fine and you wouldn't change anything about it. Chris seemed to go quiet a bit, and he tipped your chin to look at him. “Really, everything is just perfect?” Your own eyes widened and nod. “Absolutely handsome, there's no place I would rather be then with you. A look crossed his face. One of excitement and happiness. A grin breaking out as he had one arm latched around your hip, lifting his side enough to reach in his pocket. “I'm so relieved to hear you say that, cause it feels perfect too.”

Your brows come together and when he pulls his hand out, latched in between his fingers is a ring, a silver band with a diamonds. You're holding your breath, this was so unexpected that your speechless staring at it, then at him. “Will you baby, marry me? I've had this just waiting for the right moment to ask. I love you so fucking much and I always want you to be my girl, the one I fly to set, and the one I come home to.” His blue eyes are shining with love and a bit of nerves, not that you would say no, but more that he had made this just perfect for you.

“Christopher of course I will!” tears spring from your eyes in your joy and you grasp his face, kissing him deeply, sure to pour in that entire answer. So nowhere would he doubt that you were his, have been since you two first started dating. He found your left hand on his face, and finishing the kiss, the slipped the ring on your hand, sure that it was set just right. You held your hand up against the light baby blue sky and for you, that diamond was brighter than the sun. A symbol of your love.

Afterward, you walked him to set, hand in hand. Chris is extra playful today, pulling you in his hold, whispering how sexy you were and how tempting you were. Maybe tonight you guys would get frisky on the beach. You firmly reminded him of sand getting in all the worst places. “I don't care, we can shower later.” He reminds you, making you smack his chest to hush him, hiding your face against his shoulder before facing the camera crew, they waved the two of you over. “Hey Chris, you must be Y/N? He's done nothing more than talk about you.”

“Only good I hope.” You counter and they laugh with a nod.

“Hey guys be nice to my Ex-Girlfriend.” Chris huffs, brushing a hand through his hair, and the crew goes silent for five seconds in confusion, you nudge him with your shoulder. “Chris you pain.” He grinning and holds up your left hand to see your ring. “I'm actually his fiance.”

Looks of relief passed, and after congratulations were given, Chris laughing and you accepting the compliments on the ring, you two went towards the tent he needed to go to get ready for shooting, playing with your ring. “Hey don't do that to Scott Handsome, he will never forgive you.” He shook his head, and dug out his phone, flipping open the texts. “You kidding me? The whole family has been asking me constantly if I asked yet.”

Taking the phone, you scrolled through the messages, snorting. “How long have you been waiting to ask Chris.”

“Oh trust me, long enough. I've always known you were the one Y/N.”

[gwynposting]

All Along the Watchtower (Ch. 2)

This story takes place after the “All Along the Watchtower” ending of Cyberpunk 2077, so spoilers ahead.

Ch. 1 | AO3 Link

The gentle glow of neon red fought against the encroaching abyss of the deep. It felt dreamlike, in a way, to have everything suspended in place, weightless, drifting through the sea. Here it wasn’t just her body drifting aimlessly through the water, it felt like the weight crushing her very soul began to lift, she felt as if she could finally breathe free. 

But the depths were also a bit disorienting - it was difficult to make heads and tails of direction or speed down here. The only thing V had for reference was the figure in front of her, illuminated by the twin headlamps attached to her diving suit. She was V’s rock, her guiding hand through the unknown, the abyss.

“I wish Evie could’ve seen this,” Judy said as she looked to the towering church before them, it’s darkened silhouette like a leviathan

Evelyn’s name caught V’s breath. She felt the blood drain from her face. Her pulse quickened. Her pupils dilated. 

Evelyn’s bruised and beaten body, lying in the middle of the room.

V sought breath after breath in frantic hyperventilation but nothing came. No air would sate her lung’s desire.

Her body lying in the tub. 

Judy turned in curiosity to find V flailing in the water. V tugged and grabbed at her throat as if she were trying to free herself from a vice wrapped around her neck. “V?” began in confusion before she realized something was seriously wrong, “V!” she shouted. 

Judy...

Her lungs were on fire, as if they contained a dozen lit matches. She felt paralyzed by her visions. 

“No, no, NO,” she heard Judy’s desperate voice becoming increasingly frantic, “Stay with me V.”

Judy made a dash over to V to hold her steady, but V didn’t even react to her presence. The sounds around her became murky, like the bass of a concert bleeding through cement wall. All she could see was Judy’s frantic display. It consumed her.

“V! She pleaded, “Not you too,” her voice was a cry to the gods, to anyone who would listen, “I can’t lose you too V. I can’t do it again. Please, Valerie. Stay with me.” 

And then nothing.

V awoke with a shock. The snug embrace of her blanket that had been so welcoming before now acted like a vice trapping her in its confines. With one motion she stripped the blanket off and to the side. Her shirt clung to her form, caked with sweat. She tried to gasp for air but nothing would come, as if she were being strangled, like water had seeped into her lungs. She made a mad dash for the sink.

With a grotesque retch, she purged herself into the sink. But before she was done, she began to violently cough into her hand. Her throat burned with each hack until she was left breathless, in a sort of daze staring down at the sink below. Blood stained her hand and seeped down into the sink below. With the blockage free, V finally took her first breath. It came like fire, as the air traveled through her roughened throat to fill her aching lungs. 

V collapsed onto her forearms that shakily held her upright. Her breathing was rapid and shaky, with each labored breath feeling like daggers dragged along her throat. 

She glanced up into the mirror. Her eyes were lidded, dark circles present underneath. Her skin was flushed. V was hardly able to keep herself stable. She could feel her faculties, both physical and mental, slipping from her grasp.

“Walking talking corpses,” she began to hear, a faint echo in a fading mind. The dread began to seep through her once more. The unshakeable feeling of inevitability, forever present in the back of V’s thoughts, once more resurfacing. How many times had she faced death at this point? Deshawn, Mikoshi. And now she’d have to die once more? 

But this time the stakes were different. It wasn’t just about the loss of her own life anymore. It wasn’t about becoming the legend of Night City and going out in spectacular fashion. She had a family. She had Judy. She would have to leave Judy behind. 

“Fuck, V. I was so worried. I saw what was happening on the news and you weren’t getting back to me and-”

“I know, Judy,” V cut her off, switching off the car radio’s live coverage of the chaos at Arasaka tower, “I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’ll fill you when I get there, be home soon.” 

She couldn’t believe she almost did.

The rhythmic drum of rain droplets bounced against the window. The diver on Judy’s wall glowed under the soft blue lighting, as if they were traveling down the ocean depths. 

“What happened in there? In this ‘Mikoshi’?” Judy took the cigarette out of V’s mouth and inhaled, “You still haven’t said anything about it.” 

Judy’s eyes were filled with worry, and it killed V to see them so afraid. V closed her eyes and looked away, she didn’t think she even had the strength to tell her if she had to face the hurt.

“Well,” V hesitated, her voice shaky and unsure, holding back tears, “Johnny’s out. But uh,” her breath hitched, “I guess my brain isn’t mine anymore. I only got about 6 months left.” 

“F-fuck,” Judy stuttered, her breath caught in her throat. She took a deep inhale from her cigarette, “Fuck, V. You sure?” Judy’s voice was weak, a shadow of its usual strength. 

“No, but that’s what Alt said.” V looked down to what she feared - tears streamed down Judy’s face. 

“Is there -” Judy began, “there has to be something you can do.” Judy pleaded more than affirmed. 

V looked away and wiped the tears from her eyes. “V?” Judy croaked.

“The Aldecados have some contacts that might be able to help, but...” V paused and let the silence linger. She still hadn’t come to grips with it herself, “I was called a ticking time bomb by Alt Cunningham. The AI who instantaneously fried everyone in Arasaka tower.”

The silence was suffocating.

“I’m sorry, Jude.” V’s voice was withered, stripped away by the knowledge that Judy would have to go through yet more loss. That Night City would claim everything that she held close.

Judy wiped the tears from her eyes, “You don’t worry about me, okay? We’re gonna try every last option on this earth before we give up.” Her voice was more assured, as if she were trying to convince V that it would all be okay. 

Or maybe she was trying to convince herself.

“And no matter what, V, I will be here with you ‘till the end.”

With that, V began openly weeping, seeking out Judy’s breast to curl into. Judy lovingly wrapped her arms around V and brought her close as she whispered sweet comforts. Each muffled cry sent daggers through Judy’s heart. 

“I can’t do it again, Judy. I’m so tired.” 

V’s cracked voice pained Judy. But even though it felt like Judy’s own world was crumbling apart around her, she had to be strong for V, “You can, and you will.” Judy gave herself a few moments to steel herself, “You have a family. You have me. We will be there every single step of the way. You don’t need to go through this alone anymore.” 

V remained silent, through Judy’s soothings and touches, before finally sitting up. “I think I need a smoke,” almost as faint as a whisper. Judy nodded and retrieved another stick from her pack and held it out for V. She captured the cigarette between her lips and held still as Judy set it alight. She took several draws before she was sated. 

“Can I tell you something?” V asked hesitantly. 

Judy blew a puff of smoke into the air and turned to her, her cheeks puffy and eyes still bloodshot, “Shoot, V.” 

“After I left Arasaka, I couldn’t stop thinking about Jackie. About his funeral. About Mama Welles and Misty and Vik. About how I’d never see that goofy smile anymore.” V took another draw before continuing. “Then I thought about my own funeral, and saw you standing over my body, just like Evelyn. Part of me just, I don’t know, wanted to run off to die on my own and spare you the grief of another loved one dying. Make you hate me instead.” 

Judy reached over and grabbed one of V’s nipples, squeezed, and twisted. V squeaked out in shock. “Fuckin’ gonk,” she said, icily, before letting go, “I’d have hunted you down and killed you myself.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” V chuckled and took another draw, gently massaging away the pain with her fingers. “Intrusive thought, I guess. In my defence, I went from thinking I was dead meat to actually having some real hope to then have it all stripped away. My state of mind wasn’t exactly in the best place. Sorry, Jude.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Judy softened her tone, her eyes becoming more sympathetic, “I can’t even begin to understand what that must feel like.” Judy took one long draw from her cigarette and let out a slow cloud of smoke. 

“Just promise me one thing, V?” Judy’s voice became calm, but serious, “no matter what happens, no matter where this trail leads, we do this together, okay?”

V nodded, “Together.” 

V felt as if she’d radiated every bit of heat away from her body. Her muscles ached, her throat was on fire, and she couldn’t stop the ceaseless shivers that wracked her body. 

She flinched as she felt something brush along her shoulder, but settled into the touch once she looked up and saw Judy’s reflection in the mirror. V tried a smile of assurance but the smeared blood along her lips wasn’t terribly convincing. Judy leaned her head against V’s back, as if to hug her from behind without being too constricting. “C’mon,” Judy cooed, “can I draw you up a warm bath?” 

V’s voice was hoarse, rough with exhaustion and fatigue, “Yeah, thanks Jude.” V felt enough strength to start cleaning out the sink and whipping the blood from her hands. She had to shake the memories that cropped up.

Jackie’s blood.

“What time is it?” V croaked, splashing cold water over her tired eyes. 

“Just a bit before 5,” Judy cooed. 

The sound of rushing water filled their cozy home. They didn’t have a water heater, but they at least had some running water. The Aldecados had set up in a ghost town much like Rocky Ridge about an hour outside Tuscon while they established a basis of communication with their contacts in the city. Most of the old-timers stuck with their own tents that they peppered around town, while Judy and V were more than happy to claim a cozy house off the main street. 

“Let me go heat up some water,” V said, feeling silly she’s not being useful.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Judy tutted her teeth. “You stay put.”

Judy held V’s hand to help guide her down onto the ledge of the tub. With V safe, she made her way over to the kitchen and grabbed the tea kettle out of the cupboard. Judy filled it with water then placed it on the stove, turning it on. 

While she was waiting for the kettle to reach boiling, Judy returned to their bedroom and picked out a plush blanket. She returned to the bathroom to see V stripped down, sitting on the edge of the tub. She was hunched over, shivering. Goosebumps lined her arms. When Judy entered, V looked up to her. Judy saw it in her eyes, how much everything was getting to her. To see the uncertainty and fear looking back at her made Judy’s heart drop in that moment. V looked so small, so vulnerable.

V shook her head, “It’ll just get dirty,” V muttered, gesturing to the blanket in Judy’s arms. 

“Hush, you,” Judy sidled up beside her and wrapped it around V. Despite her protests, V quickly grabbed the edges and brought them close. Judy kept an arm around V and leant her head on V’s shoulders. They didn’t say anything, they didn’t need to. They sat in silence until the gentle whine of steam began to fill the air. 

“Don’t go anywhere,” Judy tried to joke, before making her way to the kitchen to grab the boiling kettle. Judy carefully picked up the whistling pot and brought it back to warm up the cool water. Judy kneeled besides V and began to pour. The splash of pouring water and clouds of steam filled the air as she emptied its contents into the bath. Judy tested the temperature of the water with prodding fingertips, then plunged her hand in to stir and distribute the heat. 

“I think we’re all set,” Judy said as she shook off her dripping hand. Judy began to shuck off her sweatpants and shirt. “How’d you like to do it?”

“Can you hold me?” V whispered. Judy felt her heart drop. 

“Por supuesto, calabacita” Judy soothed as she tried to keep her own voice steady. As difficult as it was to see the woman she loved so vulnerable and hurt, she had to be the emotional rock V had been for her. Judy shed her underwear and dipped her toes in before fully submerging herself. Judy let herself enjoy the comfortable warmth for a moment before making room for V to get in. 

V quickly followed suit, tossing the blanket in the laundry pile before dipping herself in the bath, being careful to take her time. Her arms shook with fatigue as she lowered herself down.

She sought Judy’s outstretched arms and sank back into their embrace. V clung to the arms wrapped around her as if she were never to let go again. Judy sat herself out of the water more so that V could snuggle into her without her head dipping below the water level. Judy’s breasts became dotted with goosebumps as they became exposed to the cooler air. 

“This is the second time this week, Jude,” V shook in Judy’s grasp. 

“I know,” Judy sighed. They both understood the rising frequency of the attacks. 

“I’m scared,” V squeaked, almost a whisper.

“Fuck,” Judy mouthed to herself to herself, as if viscerally reacting to the pain laced in V’s voice crack. Fuck this was hard. “I know,” she tried to calm her shaking voice, “But hey, we meet with Mitch’s contact tomorrow. Your fate isn’t written in stone here. Remember that feeling in Vik’s clinic when he broke the news that the relic was killing you? You had no hope of surviving. Every single lead went bust. But you managed to survive V, because you’re one of a kind. I know we’ll find something.”

“Maybe. I’m just… tired, Jude. I’ve been dying for how long now? It feels like I’m just... prolonging the inevitable. Like I’m… stretching myself thin.” 

Judy placed a kiss on the top of V’s head, “I know, hun. But the important thing is that now you’re not alone. You don’t need to be strong anymore, we’re all here to help you.”

V allowed Judy’s words to sink in before she tightened her grip on Judy’s forearm, “I don’t like to think of where I’d be without you, Judy.” 

“Good thing I’m stickin’ around then, hm?” Judy leaned in to V’s ears and whispered, “can’t get rid of me that easy~”

V let out a small chuckle, “I love ya, y’gonk.”

“I love you too.” 

***

“What was he like?”

V stared off aimlessly into the valley below, idly massaging her forearm. Her legs dangled down the small cliffside. The sky bled deep reds and purples as it prepared the way for the sun’s arrival. Clouds caught and mixed the colors to produce vibrant displays.

“V?” Judy repeated.

V’s name caught her ear and brought her out of her reverie. She turned to Judy, a light blush of embarrassment creeping up on her cheeks.

“What was he like?” Judy repeated, motioning down to the spot on V’s forearm that she was palming over - a tattoo that said “Johnny + V” inside of a heart. 

V followed Judy’s gaze and recognized what she was getting at. She reflexively moved her hand away from the tattoo, as if she hadn’t realized she’d even been so sentimental about it. She was still rather bitter about that night.

“He was…” V paused in reflection. She still hadn’t come to terms with… everything. She still caught herself thinking out to Johnny, only to get nothing but silence in return. 

“You would’ve hated him,” V said with a short laugh, “he was one massive prick. But at the same time, I miss the guy.” 

V sought out Judy’s hand and Judy received it readily. Judy remained quiet, letting V have the floor to continue when she was ready.

“He did end up liking you though,” V glanced over to Judy with a smirk, “even with the whole diving business. I guess he was thalassophobic.”

“And we kinda proved him right with that eh,” Judy aired.

“Think it rubbed off on me too after that,” V tried to smile, but the thought of returning back to those depths made her palms feel clammy and cold. She could feel the familiar tightened around her throat return, like a phantom grip threatening to squeeze the life out of her. 

“Sorry if you had any plans to do some more diving with me,” V chuckled in a morbid laugh, “Guess I’ll have to stick to experiencing the BDs that you scroll, so I don’t have to feel the anxiety going out myself. For now, I guess.”

Judy brought V’s hand up to her lips and placed a lingering kiss, “You go at your own pace, V. Even if that means you never step foot in the water again, or even watch a BD. Don’t ever feel like you need to push yourself past your limits for me.”

“Yeah… thanks, Judy.” 

The silence returned once more as the tips of the sun’s rays began to clip over the horizon. The valley was basked in royal shades, a mixture of vibrant colors and long cast shadows. 

“It feels weird that he’s not poking around in my head anymore,” V said solemnly. 

“Was he always around or…?” Judy floated.

“I think so, to some extent. Even when I’d take my blockers I guess he’d still experience everything. Just… we wouldn’t be able to communicate.” 

V thought a moment before continuing, “I’m assuming it’s similar to the night I got this,” she waved around her tattooed arm, “little present from Johnny. The first time I gave him control of my body,” V’s voice turned icy. “I had to watch that trainwreck of a night unfurl before my eyes and have absolutely 0 control over it.” 

V sat still for a few moments. She had never really ever had the chance to vent out to anybody about Johnny, the good or the bad. Her entire life until recently was foot on the chooh, just trying to stay alive. No time for reflection.

“But,” V’s voice began to quiver, “I still think he was a good person. Underneath it all. Think in the end he recognized how badly he fucked up his old friendships, hell, even fucked it up with me.” 

“Aww did you fix the bad boy up?” Judy giggled.

V couldn’t hold back a smile and playfully elbowed Judy in the arm. “I guess it’s more that we rubbed off on each other, over time.” V looked over to Judy with a cheeky look, “And before you ask, no, I did not take on his delusions of grandeur. Did start smoking again though.”

“Guess you and me got that in common,” Judy replied with a single huff. 

V held the silence for a while, collecting her thoughts. “But I am glad we took out Mikoshi. Not just for Johnny, it was the right thing to do. And I have him to thank for getting me to come around.”

“I’ll mark your relationship as ‘It’s complicated’ eh?” Judy leaned her head on V’s shoulder. 

“I think,” V started, “when all of this is over… y’know, if we pump the brakes on me dying… I’d like to return to Night City and do a proper send off.” 

“Then I guess we better focus on not dying then,” Judy replied. 

The pair winced and squinted their eyes as the sun finally crested into the sky. Its radiance began to creep down their bodies and chase away the chills of the desert morning. Judy’s familiar hum was a welcome addition, and V leaned her cheek on Judy’s head and basked in the moment. She would make sure to cherish every single moment, because sooner or later, she knew she wouldn’t be able to. 

And then she heard that familiar voice ring through her head as if he never left, “Happy endings? Wrong city. Wrong people.”

Author’s Note: Chapter 3 is out on AO3 already. I’d post it here but I don’t want to spam this tag so I’ll post the tumblr link in a few days (when I remember). I’m not nearly as dutiful about posting to my tumblr as I will be with AO3 so if you want consistent updates, be sure to check there.

[yatorihell]

In The Darkness Chapter 80 - The Locket

Noragami x Harry Potter AU

Words: 5,031

Summary: Yato works out how to destroy the horcrux.

Also available on Yatorihell AO3

Only a few days after he had collected supplies, Yato moved his camp onwards. There was no real difference in the new location except that he now faced a line of trees that reminded him of Hogwarts’ Forbidden Forest, ominous and dark.

The evenings were beginning to lighten, but nightfall still came too early and forced Yato back inside the gentle warmth of the tent he called home. He heated dinner over the small gas lamp and left it burning as he ate, feeling the final bite of winter taking its revenge before spring sprung.

Yato leant back in his chair, staring at the canopy lost in thought as he did most nights, without company or entertainment to fill his endless days. He felt his eyelids grow heavy, his shoulders becoming a comfortable weight as he relaxed into sleep.

A dull light flickered over the tents thin canopy and Yato’s eyes flickered. It grew brighter by the second, illuminating the tent, yet there were no footsteps crunching through the snow. Yato quickly turned out the lamp beside him, alert that something was outside.

Yato gripped his wand tightly and stood from the chair, wincing at the sound it made despite knowing that he had concealment charms around his makeshift camp. His footsteps were muffled, breathing low, as he came to a stop by the flap. He pressed his eye to the thin shaft of winter moonlight. Through the slit, a silvery light whisped its way towards the tent. It stilled, tendrils reaching and disappearing in the frosted breeze, and Yato frowned.

Quietly, Yato opened the flap, wand raised.

A silvery wolf looked at him with milky eyes, ears pricked up intently at the newcomer. It sat and stared at him, seeing through the charms that would’ve hidden the small tent and its occupant from the living.

Yato froze. There was a moment where the world was just the thumping of his own heart beating in his chest before he managed to speak.

“Sakura?” Yato whispered on instinct, but he knew it was foolish, a child’s wish, that she would appear to him as a ghost, or as her Animagus or Patronus form.

The wolf stood and turned, tail whishing as it moved back to the treeline. It stopped and looked back at him with a silent command.

Come.

Yato stepped into the white world, letting the tent fade into the distance as he weaved his way through the thicket of snow-crusted trees, losing sight of the spectre every now and then until he could see it waiting for him.

The next time the wolf disappeared, it did not return. Yato huffed in short breaths of cloud, looking for the next apparition, but none came. A silvery light came from ahead, and he followed it.

The forest gave way to a large pond, frozen over with a thick sheet of ice. Above it, a glowing orb just like the one that warned them at Kofuku’s wedding, spinning in a slow circle.

He looked around the edge of the pond, heart hammering, expecting to see a crumpled form lying on the shoreline, a Deatheater suspended above it, just like…

The orb slowly faded away, disintegrating before it could hit the surface of the pond.

“Lumos.”

The tip of Yato’s wand glittered to life, sending shadows falling behind him into the soft snow and the indents of his footprints. He swung it left to right, alert. Was this another trick? An ambush? But the soft groans of snow-laden branches were his only company.

He looked down at the pond, his distorted reflection and the beam of his wand glowing back up at him on the glittering black surface. Yato frowned and took a tentative step forward, toes cracking the thin layer of ice on the shore. Below the greyness was a shining cross of silver, half-buried in the silt.

Yato’s heart jumped to his throat. He dropped to his knees and scattered the snow from the edge of the pond with his hands before pressing his wand against the ice. The light refracted through the stillness of the water, and the silver cross glittered with rubies.

The Sword of Gryffindor.

Yato stared down through the ice, heart hammering and thoughts racing.

How was the sword lying at the bottom of a pool so close to where he was camping?

Had Sakura in her Animagus form led him there in death?

Had it been planted there by someone who knew he was close? Who could it have been? And why would they not pass it to him directly?

Yato looked over his shoulder at the treeline, seeking out any notion of a human shape, but detected none. His jaw set when he turned back to the pond, realising – that by some miracle –, the sword was within reach.

“Accio sword.”

The sword did not move, and Yato’s frown returned. He sat back on his haunches, knees wet with snow, as he racked his brain. The last time he had held the sword was in the Chamber of Secrets, where it had presented itself to him from the Sorting Hat. Though he was officially a Slytherin, he was also a Gryffindor – his own heart made the Sorting Hat decide on where he was placed.

Professor Tenjin’s words came to mind: ‘Only a true Gryffindor can pull Godric Gryffindor’s sword from the Sorting Hat, whether they are kin or not.’

And what were the qualities that defined a Gryffindor?

‘Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindor’s apart.’ The Sorting Hat’s song rang in his head, the same song it sang every year to new students.

Yato let out a long breath that froze in the air. He knew what he had to do.

He looked around once more, and after deciding no one was about to attack him, began peeling off his clothes. The wind ripped through him as soon as his shirt was off, and his teeth were chattering by the time he had stripped to his underwear. The horcrux was freezing against his chest and his toes dug into the unforgiving snow. The vague notion that he may get frostbite, hypothermia, or die crossed his mind. He took his wand, aimed at the ice, and spoke as quickly and clearly as he could say through his teeth.

“Diffindo.”

The ice cracked like a whip, shattering in a spider’s web of patterns. At the epicentre of the spell, the ice had broken, leaving chunks floating in the blackness like ice in soda. Yato shivered again. The pond didn’t seem to be deep, but he would have to go underwater to retrieve the sword from the lakebed.

Yato lay his wand on top of his clothes, the tip still lit by Lumos. He didn’t want to dwell on how agonising the water would be, or how cold he would be after, or how many days it would take for him to feel parts of himself.

So, he jumped.

His body screamed in protest at the intensity of the water, a searing pain encasing him and his lungs froze with the breath inside them. He could hardly breathe, the water lapping at his shoulders as he tried to force his body to work with him.

Yato stuttered out a gasp, feeling his lungs contract and his body judder in protest. Slowly, he inched his foot across the floor, seeking out the sword. He only wanted to dive once. His foot found the hilt, but he hesitated, pushing the dive back second by second until he knew that any longer and he would freeze and drown with his sunken treasure.

The old was agony, like frozen fire licking at his face as his head ducked beneath the surface. His eyes were screwed shut, lungs begging to scream from the intensity of it all. Yato fumbled for the sword, fingers bringing up dirt and rocks before they glided against something smooth and icy. His hand landed on the hilt and Yato pulled it up.

Yato broke the surface with a gasp, breathes juddering and not full enough to clear the haze in his head. He held the sword aloft and painstakingly forced his legs to cooperate, dragging himself to the edge of the pond and crawling into the snow which somehow seemed warmer than the water.

Yato dropped the sword and fumbled for his clothes. His fingers were numb and wouldn’t bend, but it was just enough to pull his shirt back over his head and pull his trousers and boots back on, though they were beginning to sodden. He scooped up his wand and the sword, fingers flexing painfully as he began to retrace his footsteps in the snow back to camp.

By the time he was back in the tent, he could feel his fingers coming back to life. He threw a few branches he’d snapped from the nearest trees into a pile and murmured ‘Incendio’, and a fire burst to life.

Tonight, he would risk the smoke now that he had the power to destroy the horcrux.

Yato felt the horcrux pulse against his skin as if sensing the incoming danger. He peeled it off and dropped it onto the bed warily, ever cautious it may decide to latch onto him again and never let go. He changed into dry clothes, layering himself with every top and pair of socks he could find before stuffing his feet into his boots and pulling on another thick jumper. He put his wand in his pocket and picked up the sword, feeling the true weight in his hand as he picked up the horcrux by the chain.

The fire has grown nicely, shedding enough light to see what he was doing without moonlight or magic. Yato lay the horcrux on the ground, the dark pendant contrasting on the snow and glinting in the amber firelight that shone around his form. He took a deep, weighing breath. All their trials and tribulations had led to this moment; the moment where the horcruxes could be destroyed.

They knew from past experience the horcrux couldn’t be killed within the vessel, but opening it would expose it to mortal danger. The inability to open it by hand told Yato that there was a certain way to it – one that he had used to enter the Chamber of Secrets. The Sorcerer need to keep it safe and sealed, and what better way to lock it with words?

Like him, the Sorcerer was a parseltongue.

Yato raised the sword, bladed edge glinting in the light.

“Abna.”

The locket swung open with a force making it jump across the snow. A swirling blackness inside regarded Yato without eyes, and in that moment Yato was hypnotised.

A voice hissed out from the horcrux. “I have seen your heart, and it is mine.”

Yato felt his heart hammer and his eyes widen, the sword inexplicably raised over his head but unable to fall.

“I have seen your dreams, Yaboku, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all you dread is inevitable…”

The horcrux bubbled black like a potion gone wrong, grey mist rising in a cloud that grew and hung in the air over the locket. Yato drew his head up, following it with growing horror as Dark Magic electrified the air and rendered him useless in the face of the ever-growing mirage.

Hiyori emerged from the smoke, grey as a ghost but as flawless as he remembered.

‘I’ve missed you,’ Hiyori voice whispered. However, her eyes weren’t fixed on him as she spoke.

Yato felt his throat tighten and his arms tensed, but still, the sword dropped lower and lower until the point rested in the snow. A second figure had appeared beside her, and it took a moment to realise it was him; caressing Hiyori’s face, smiling at her. He had all her attention and adoration.

T-this isn’t real… Yato told himself. The horcrux vision blossomed with renewed power, forcing the images to a life-like version of them enshrouded in mist and clouds that concealed the lower halves of their naked bodies.

Riddle-Yato swiftly wrapped an arm around Riddle-Hiyori’s waist, pulling her closer so their torsos were pressed together. Holding her firm in his grasp, he leant down so his lips could whisper in her ear before peppering her skin with eager kisses, trailing from her jawline to the base of her neck. Riddle-Hiyori’s head rolled back, lips parted in bliss as she silently mouthed his name as each kiss exploded in her senses like lightning to a tree.

Yato watched, frozen to the spot as he watched in shock at the scene which unfolded before him.

‘I have seen your heart, and it is mine. I have seen your dreams, Yaboku, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible…’ The horcrux’s words rang in his ears. The world muddled. Dreams, desires… He and Hiyori… Was this a trick or the future?

Riddle-Hiyori breathlessly relaxed into his passionate affection and placed her hands on his chest, and his breathing quickened at their interactions. Her hands slid over and savoured every inch of him as she caught hold of his free hand and clamped it on her waist with no protest from her lover. Her fingers drifted from his wrist and glided up his strong arms, trailing up along the curves of lean muscle to his shoulders where she found the nape of his neck. Her fingers weaved into his hair and ran through his dark bangs, raking it back to give him a better view of his task before moving down to caress his strong jaw.

That’s not… her… that’s not me… Yato’s head spun. Although it was him that she was paying such devoted interest too, it wasn’t him – not the real him. It was a sick twist of manipulation, a defence mechanism to keep the horcrux alive.

But it was effective.

Riddle-Yato’s lips hadn’t relented in their intense preoccupation of leaving evidence of his reverence on her body, his hand wandering up Riddle-Hiyori’s side and delicately brushing against her skin as she shivered under his light touch. Teasingly he continued sliding his hand up until he reached her neck, a single finger tracing the curve of her jawline as he redirected his attention from Riddle-Hiyori’s skin and breathless exhalations with new purpose.

Yato’s chest tightened, unfounded jealously, anger and pent-up emotion rising in his blood like a red mist.

This isn’t real.

Riddle-Hiyori raised her head as his lips vanished, leaving her skin feeling cold and starved of his affections for a moment as he teased her with a suggestive smile and seductive eyes. Stroking his thumb softly against her cheek, he tilted her chin up to restlessly claim her lips again with a fervent embrace.

Abandoning all logic, Yato charged at the black cloud where he – he? – held Hiyori in a long and passionate kiss, sword dragging as he got closer to the mirage. Heaving it up without breaking pace, Yato swung the sword high over his head with an outraged scream before bringing it down and slicing through the wisps of cloud which had created the vision. The mist swirled up once again ready to create a new nightmare to protect itself from destruction.

Yato found his footing and spun around, searching for the locket under the fog. It lay half-hidden in the snow, the silver chain shining dimly.

Yato stood with his legs parted, sword raised high as he gathered his strength to thrust the blade into the horcrux before it could do anything else. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in anticipation of the painful vision he would have once it was dead. Then it would be over. Then he could find Hiyori again.

Yato’s shoulder blades tensed as he poised to strike, his eyes opening at the same time that the sword began to fall.

At the same time, he heard a scream.

Hiyori lay defenceless on the ground where the horcrux once was, wilted like a flower in winter as she cowered away from the blade which had stopped short the moment she screamed. Her arms wrapped around her head with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her flimsily clothed body shaking violently on the frosted forest floor as she waited for the blow.

Yato’s grip on the sword tightened, shock setting in at the sight of the girl crumpled on the ground at his mercy. Her skin was as white as the snow, punctuated by cuts covering her legs and arms like red vines, blue and black bruises visible under the torn – prisoner garment? – she wore. Swells and red marks sored her wrists as if they had been chained or roped for a long period of time, still freshly lacerated by whatever – whoever – had held her captive.

“Hiyori?” Yato whispered shakily, sword falling to his side as Hiyori unscrewed her eyes, darting to look at his face. Her terrified expression told him that something awful had happened the moment he left her.

“Oh my god,” Yato whispered. “What happened?”

Yato quickly bent down, hands reaching for Hiyori. She flinched away violently at the sudden movement. Freezing, Yato looked at her with a mix of surprise and caution. He moved slowly this time, his fingers wrapping around Hiyori’s tightened fist. She was cold, freezing in fact. Her skin seemed almost as pale as the rags she wore.

“Can you stand?”

Hiyori stared at him, distrust evident despite their relationship.

What happened? Yato tortured himself with this over and over as he watched her struggle to her feet, hand clasping hers as support as her legs wobbled like a newborn foal.

Unable to support herself, she collapsed against Yato. He dropped the sword and grab onto Hiyori to keep her stabilised as she trembled against him - from fear or cold he couldn’t tell - as her fists clung onto his shirt. Ragged breaths escaped her lips as Yato desperately tried to make sense of why she was here, and how she looked like she had been dragged through hell.

“Hiyori, talk to me! Who did this? Where’s Yukine?” Yato held her face in his hands, beseeching her. She felt fragile under his fingertips as if she would disappear at any second.

“I… he’s… I don’t know. He was… behind me… and now…” Hiyori stifled a sob against his chest, dampening his jumper with unrelenting tears.

Yato heart plummeted, fearing Yukine was lost in the woods. He may even be in a worse state than Hiyori…

“Hiyori, I need to go look for Yukine, get inside,” Yato tried stepping back to detangled her but she clung to him harder, erratic sobs and heavy breathing telling him she was desperate not to lose him again.

“Don’t go!” Hiyori whimpered, voice breaking from the thought of being alone again. “Don’t leave me again!”

Her arms wrapped tightly around Yato’s neck, burying her face against him in an attempt to keep him from going anywhere.

Yato’s resolve wavered. He couldn’t leave her like this, and he couldn’t leave Yukine alone. Defeated, Yato stroked her hair. “I won’t leave you, but we need to find Yukine.”

“You can’t leave,” Hiyori whispered. “Not ever.”

Her voice was no longer shaking, taking on an edge that Yato had never heard before. Her body has ceased its trembling but remained as cold as before.

Yato pulled away from their embrace, resting his hands on her shoulders and confusedly peering at her face. She wore a sinister grin, eyes so dark that they appeared to be black like the mass of hair that had started floating around her shoulders. Her skin turned grey and her eyes sunk into her head, gut-wrenchingly familiar, as Yato stumbled back and fell.

A swell of black mist rising from behind whatever had taken Hiyori’s appearance, doubling and tripling in size until it resembled a bad omen – the Dark Mark.

It’s not her…! Yato screamed to himself, watching the once defenceless Hiyori – Sakura? – begin walking towards him. Tendrils of darkness snaked from her outstretched hand, coming for him to choke his neck and seep into his lungs.

A horcrux of the person he loved coming to kill him.

Yato’s eyes dropped to the ground, realising his mistake as the Sword of Gryffindor shone dimly at him, out of reach behind the manifestation as she glided over the snow like a wolf stalking her prey. He reached for his wand and held it out, cursing spells that brought memories of Sakura’s apparition flooding back and a taste of dust in his mouth, but it was a futile attempt.

He knew it would not save him.

The manifestations smile was rigid, far from any expression he’d seen on Hiyori’s face, but her voice was the same.

“Yaboku…”

The sword cut through the Dark Mark first. The illusion shattered in a black cloud of smoke that writhed and screeched as the Dark Mark was purged from the air. The sword continued to fall down on the manifestation, splitting it cleanly in half in a misty fog that blackened as soon as the blade touched it.

But the scream still ripped through her. Too human. Too Hiyori.

A sear of pain flashed through Yato's head, the instant pain of the Legilimency connection forming sparking to life. The Sorcerer's agonised face, Hogwarts' turrets against a darkening sky, and a silver feathered tiara on a cushioned pillow.

Yato's head cleared slowly and the fog had dispelled, leaving the world white once again. But there was a new figure before Yato.

Yukine stood a few metres away, sword in hand and hair dishevelled, panting. His eyes were downcast to the locket, splinters of shattered stone littering the snow, a sizeable crack prominent in the centre of the pendant.

“I’m not even going to begin to unpack what that was,” Yukine said, lifting his eyes. “But you are a dead man.”

Yato gaped. Yukine strode up to Yato, the tip of the sword dragging through the snow.

“Why did you leave?!” Yukine pushed Yato with his free hand, but there was no hate behind it: it was hurt.

Yato gaped again, words lost on him. Yukine was here. He’d saved him from certain death, but it seemed trivial to him as he glared at Yato and pushed him again.

“Why?! Did you think we would leave you out here on your own? Do you even know how worried sick we’ve been?!” Yukine vented. His breaths came out ragged by the time he’s topped his onslaught, but Yato was still staring at him like he would disappear just like the wolf.

“How did you find me?” Yato asked.

Yukine huffed, eyes glassy and staring before he reached into his pocket and flicked the Deluminator open. A ball of light shot out and hovered mid-air, bobbing up and down in between of them.

“One night, this ball of light came out and wouldn’t leave. It just… drifted in the air, moving away from us. Like it wanted us to follow,” Yukine clicked the Deluminator again and the orb finally disappeared. “We figured it was telling us something, so we followed it for weeks. And it brought me right to you.”

Yato looked from the Deluminator sliding back into Yukine’s pocket and back to his face. “Where’s Hiyori?”

“Back at camp,” Yukine jutted his head to the left, behind the shoddy little tent glowing with firelight.

Yato looked at the ground. He scooped up the shattered locket and wrapped the chain around his fingers, feeling the emptiness inside that gave him a chest ache.

There was a moment’s pause, a silent understanding that – after everything he had put them through – he was welcome home.

The walk back to camp was punctuated by short questions and long answers. The first rays of sunlight were bursting over the tree’s skinny branches, ushering in a new day and setting the snow alight under their feet.

Before long Yato spotted the familiar slopes of the tent they called home, and the beginnings of smoke kindling rising through the air. He spotted a glimpse of grey through the trees and his heart hammered, and before long he could make out her hair falling down her back as she set about making breakfast.

The sound of footsteps on snow giving away to bracken told her that Yukine – wherever he had been so early – was back.

“There’s coffee in the kettle, but it –,” Hiyori started before she looked up.

Yukine, still carrying the Sword of Gryffindor, had a smile on his face. Yato, on the other hand, had stopped short the moment her eyes met his.

Yato felt the world standstill. Hiyori – who just a while ago was battered and bruised and begging for help – was here. Alive, unmarked, healthy… and very angry, but that didn't matter.

Until she started screaming.

"Where. The. HELL. Have you BEEN?!"

Hiyori practically spat each word, wiping the relieved smile straight off Yato's face and making Yukine take a few steps away from the new war zone between them.

That was the first time they’d heard Hiyori swear.

Yato’s mouth hung open slightly, words lost once again. Hiyori dropped the tin mug she was holding, splattering the remains of coffee over the ground as she advanced on him.

Hiyori pushed him, punctuating each shove. “Where. Have. You. Been?!”

Hiyori panted, breathless, as Yato stepped back, still shellshocked. Her eyes fell to the locket wrapped around his fingers, the fresh rage abated for a short time as she realised what they had done.

Hiyori turned to Yukine, eyes falling to the sword that was now resting over his shoulder. “You destroyed it.”

“Yep.”

“And how do you have the Sword of Gryffindor?”

Yukine raised an eyebrow at Yato, and Hiyori whirled back around to face him. Yato flinched; he didn’t like the way he was looking at him.

“It appeared to me,” Yato stumbled to find his tongue. “A wolf led me to a lake, and it was in there.”

“Oh, so you’re King Arthur now?” Yukine called from his safety point in a bid to lighten the mood, but it did nothing to qualm Hiyori’s temper.

There was a passed looked between Hiyori and Yato before she turned back to the campfire, which in their argument had warmed the porridge oats inside the cauldron.

“Breakfast is ready.”

~

Hiyori communicated in short statements and pointed looks for the rest of the day. Yato didn’t expect her to welcome him back with open arms – well, that was a lie –, but it was torture to be ignored like this.

He’d given her the busted locket to stash away in her bag, his fingers brushing her and feeling like wildfire had engulfed him, but she pulled away quickly and went back to ignoring him. It was a losing battle on his part. Discouraged, he and Yukine returned to his tent to pack up what little belongings he had.

Dinner was filled only by the radio, Kazuma’s voice a welcome one to fill the awkward silence between the three of them. By nightfall, they were on opposite ends of the tents, though surprisingly Yato’s bed was already made up as if he’d never left. He stole a look at Hiyori sat in her chair, reading, but went ignored again.

About an hour later, Hiyori abruptly closed her book.

“Goodnight,” Hiyori said curtly, cutting off any attempts of conversation Yato had prepared as she exited the dining area.

He stared after her, hearing the shuffling of bedsheets before the low lamplight was cut off.

Sitting in silence, Yato contemplated his actions. The best decision was to leave her – and Yukine – and sort this mess by himself. No one would get hurt except him; a happy proposition for him if it meant that they would be safe. Yet he forgot about their feelings and left. It was a miracle that Hiyori had agreed to look for him when they realised he had left them behind when she was free to go back to what little remained of her normal life.

“We’re not gunna… mention what the…” Yato said quietly, trying to find a polite way of saying that he didn’t want Hiyori to know that he’d seen an apparition of him and Hiyori making out right before she tried to kill him, but Yukine was surprisingly kind.

“Not a word.”

Although Yukine had forgiven his idiotic actions, Hiyori seemed to be impassable, hostile and expressionless whenever he made any motion to interact with her. The damage was already done, and there seemed to be no way to fix it.

Unable to come up with a new strategy and fatigue fast blurring his thoughts, Yato climbed into his bed. It had the same sheets as the night that he left, he noticed. The pillow’s scent still showing evidence of Hiyori’s presence, perhaps even recently, as he breathed in the smell he had missed so much.

Despite the cold brought by the gusts of wind that rocked the tent canopy, he couldn’t bring himself to pull the covers around himself. The absence of Hiyori’s warmth was even more pointed knowing that she was only a few feet away from him, rather than god knows how many miles apart they were when he was camping alone.

It seemed like hours had passed laying there, unable to sleep and listening for any sign of movement before his eyelids grew heavy. He didn’t notice the rustle of sheets from across the room, or the sound of feet quietly padding over to his bedside. But he did notice a smaller frame crawl into the bed and pull the duvet over the both of them.

Half-opening his eyes, he could see an unfocused face avoiding his eyes as she made herself comfortable in her usual place. This time she’s the first to wrap her arm around him. Now competent of what was happening, Yato lowered his widened eyes to her face which was half-hidden by her fringe, but he could tell she was on the brink of tears from the crack in her voice.

“Don’t ever leave again.”

Yato’s heart twinged at the brokenness evident in her voice as she buried her face in his t-shirt, ending their stalemate as she curled up against him like old times. Looping his arm over her, he held her closer and pressed a gentle, apologetic kiss on her forehead.

“Never.”